Happy Holidays

Happy holidays to all, however you spend them.

Thanks to everyone who still swings by, and I appreciate that you guys remember me. This last year has been pretty tough with health issues and I've been trying to get to a point where my hands are under my control again. This is my first post in a long time, and while I can't promise regular updates, I do recall that I owe people reviews. Being unable to do my own typing (coffee pouring, contact insertion, anything with fine motor control) has taken a toll on my normally sunny temperament, but things are looking WAY UP!

So, beware. There will be reviews. And Goodreads giveaway announcements. And Thousand Word Thursday pictures, and with any luck, there will be posts from authors who get inspired to write to the prompt. And if I can get any takers, guest posts. And if I can scare up some partners in crime, some guest reviews.

A Little bit of Country by Christiane France

Title: A Little Bit of Country
Author: Christiane France
Cover Artist: Trace Edward Zaber
Publisher: Amber Allure
Publisher Buy Link: A Little Bit of Country
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 16k

When misfortune ended Max Mayler’s career as a singer, he bought The Showtime Bar, an establishment with a long history of giving aspiring artists an opportunity to showcase their talents. It’s where Max got his chance, and he wants to continue the tradition.

Jay Ferman has the exceptional voice and the sexy good looks to make it big, and although he’s been performing every Saturday night for weeks, no one pays him any attention. It could be canned music for all they seem to know or care.

Max quickly realizes the problem is Jay’s failure to truly connect with his audience. But, as Max tells one of his servers, he operates a bar and not a school for wannabees. He likes Jay, but his performance deficit is none of Max’s business.

But will Max make it his business and give Jay some much-needed advice, especially after the men connect in a very personal way?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max uses his bar as a talent launch, since he got his start here and gives other performers the opportunity. So it’s a little contradictory that he’s so standoffish about actually giving critique to someone who’s got most of what it would take to make it. It’s not explicitly an open mike night, or an open mike place in general, so Max’s refusal to say even “You might want to make some eye contact,” is a little weird. If he’s trying to give folks a start, they wouldn’t be surprised he’s supportive, and since he was fairly successful, he might even know what he’s talking about. Most aspiring musicians would treat this like gold.


Max seems to be trying to blend into the woodwork, and his explanation of why doesn’t ring true. Getting punched in the mouth for an opinion suggests he was pretty overbearing when he gave it, and now he’s willing to let a promising singer fall flat without a word. Big change, and one I wasn’t convinced of.

So I found Max contradictory and hard to warm up to, and since a lot of things were stated two and three times over, in his first person dialog and in the surrounding text, it kept me at a distance.
Jay was easier to connect to. Clueless but willing to learn, he was a warmer character, and was the one to reach out to Max, who’s still pulling away. Jay can take instruction, up to a point, and that point was where it fell apart for me. He misconstrues a helpful comment in a bizarre way, and Max’s rationalizations for it made me grit my teeth. The whole segment was forced, and even though Jay later admits he was wrong, he then proceeds to go overboard in the opposite direction.

And Max goes for it. Instant happy ever after, completely unsupported. This was so out of the blue that I couldn’t buy into it at all, as if the story was missing several thousand words of getting from point A to point B.

The sections of this story I was happiest with were the sex scenes, which didn’t go for too much too fast. Their first time was sweet, for a quicky in the office, and their second was hot and a little fumbly, which made me smile.

The sex wasn’t enough to rescue the story, unfortunately. Between the repetitions in the text and hard to believe plot points, this story didn’t work very well for me. 2 marbles

A Picture is worth...

What's going on here? Any snippets or excerpts that apply? Any ficlets? 100-1000 words is great.  Look here for directions.

Lori Toland's Dangerous Submission, with giveaway!

Welcome, Lori Toland! Lori's here to tell us a little about her new release, Dangerous Submission, now out from Loose Id. I thought the whole setting was very intriguing, and just had to find out more. 

She'll be popping in and out today to answer questions, and Lori's even giving away some fabulous prizes! Be sure to sign up below for your chance to win one $50 gift card of the winner’s choice to Loose Id, Amazon, Barnes and Noble or ARe, and one $25 gift card of the winner’s choice to Loose Id, Amazon, Barnes and Noble or ARe.

Is SOCA a real agency or based on a real agency? How did you decide how to place your agent?

Lori: This is such an awesome question! 

SOCA, which stands for Serious Organised Crime Agency, is a real UK agency that focuses on organized crime in the UK. They cover everything from smuggling, such as animals, people and counterfeit items, to illegal drugs, mainly anything that involves organized crime, such as the business that gangs of criminals run to fund their crimes. They have been in the news several times regarding drug busts in UK waters. 

The true problem lies in researching their organization, which has been like trying to catch a unicorn. Because of their secretive nature and undercover work, they’re not very forthcoming with their ideas and methodology on solving their crimes, much like other government agencies around the world that fight crime.

That also gave me a very open playground to do whatever I want. SOCA has wide sweeping powers inside the UK and probably works with Interpol on solving crimes. In this day of international travel and information traveling faster than a heartbeat, the authorities have their hands full with terrorism and agencies do work together across borders to stop crime.

In Dangerous Submission, I do have a representative from Interpol working with Drake and Robbie on their mission in Prague, where they go undercover at a BDSM party to make contact with Stefan Zuliani, one of the big players in a crime ring that stretches across Europe. In this wealthy world, appearances are everything. Drake and Robbie go all out to fit the bill but not everyone is exactly what they seem.

And here's more about this steamy adventure:

British Agent Drake Steele never thought when he was hired on at the Serious Organised Crime Agency that his job would involve spanking a co-worker. But when the colleague is Lord Robbie Covington, the sexy red-headed computer hacker for SOCA and MI-6, Drake can't agree fast enough to pop Robbie's cherry and pull him into the sensual world of BDSM.

Now they are caught up in a web of lies as they pose as members of the jet-setting crowd. Drake and Robbie have to race against the clock to stop a weapons haul that could threaten the safety of all Europe. As their covers begin to fade and danger is closing in, protecting Robbie is Drake’s most important task, but neither man is ready for the moment when their hearts are put on the line.

Of course we need a sample, which I have to park behind the cut, because, well, you know... ;) It's a bit naughty. Go on, read, and then sign up for a chance to win.



His eagerness to get started made me smile. I grabbed his shoulder and stopped. “Maybe you should take your shirt off before you get strapped in.”

He glanced down at it and took off his black thick-framed glasses. The apology he gave was muffled as he pulled his polo shirt off. Pale skin without a freckle anywhere on his slender frame made my mouth water. Unlike me, he had very little hair on his chest, just a tuft in the middle and a few stray hairs circling his flat brown nipples.

Encircling his slender wrist, I noticed how big my fingers appeared next to him. I guided his arms up and snapped the cuffs in place one by one. Once he was secure, I pulled on his bonds to make sure he couldn’t move too much.

Robbie pulled on them as well before he looked over his shoulder at me. “Why do you need to tie me down?”

“Because I’m not going to have you endanger yourself if you decide to move midstrike.”

Satisfied with my answer, he nodded, but as he turned away, he swallowed hard. He needed compassion but also needed to be aware of my competency.

I leaned in, placing my hand on his bare back to bring his attention to me. “Let’s get something straight right now. I won’t be questioned by you. You will do as I say, or I will turn you over my knee and spank you, regardless of where we are or who is in front of us.”

He flushed. “Anywhere, anytime?”

“Yes.” I punctuated the word with a crack of my whip.

He jerked, startled by the sound. “I’ll remember that, Sir,” he said.

As close as I was, the heat coming off him soaked through my clothes and into my body. He shivered, and it reverberated through every inch of my body. “Are you cold?” I asked.

“I’m fine, Sir.” The underlying tremor in his voice belied his calm demeanor, and he stayed tensed in anticipation of my next move. With him bound and waiting for my next touch, a heady thrill of power flowed through me.

If I stepped directly behind him, I was almost tall enough to notch my chin on the top of his head. The cologne he wore wafted up to me, and the dark scent beckoned me to come in closer.

Unable to resist temptation, I bowed my head to press my lips against his shoulder. He tasted salty from the light sheen of sweat, and the smell of his cologne mixing with his musk pushed me past the point of intelligent thought.

Without taking my mouth away from his delectable skin, I whispered, “These chains are also good for keeping you at my mercy. I can do anything I want, and there’s not much you can do to stop me.”

I expected him to stiffen against me in protest, but his eager cry came as a shock. “God, Drake, yes!” He shoved his hips back against me, the cleft of his arse sliding down my rock-hard prick.

******
Whoo! So who is this writer of hot stuff?


CEO by day, erotic romance writer by night, Lori Toland lives in Orlando where the summers are hot but the romance between her characters is even hotter. Writing since the tender age of 13, Lori somehow finds time to play video games and watch movies while taking care of her beloved cats and a husband who will forever be her hero.

Find Lori at her Website, Twitter, or Facebook page.

Dangerous Submission is available at Loose Id, Amazon, and All Romance eBooks.

Click here to enter Lori's drawing for one $50 gift card of the winner’s choice to Loose Id, Amazon, Barnes and Noble or ARe, and one $25 gift card of the winner’s choice to Loose Id, Amazon, Barnes and Noble or ARe.

Cryselle, thank you for having me by!

You're welcome, and here's where else Lori will be soon:

The Risque Redhead Reads
Smardy Pants Book Blog


5/2/13
Italian Brat's Obsessions
Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews


5/3/13
Momma's Books
Blackraven's Erotic Cafe


5/6/13
Harlie Williams, Writer
Cryselle's Bookshelf


5/7/13
Kinky Book Reviews
A Little Fiction of Every Flavour


5/8/13
What's On the Bookshelf
Michelle Graham, Erotic Romance


5/9/13
Guilty Pleasures
Scorching Book Reviews


5/10/13
Seductive Musings
Ramblings From This Chick


5/13/13
Erzabet's Enchantments
Regina May Ross's Blog


5/14/13
Sunset Reader Reviews
Mrs Condit & Friends Read Books


5/15/13
Passionate About Books
Shh Moms Reading

A Sticky Wicket in Bollywood by T.A. Chase and Devon Rhodes

Title: A Sticky Wicket iin Bollywood
Author: T.A. Chase and Devon Rhodes
Cover Artist: Posh Gosh
Publisher: Total E-Bound
Publisher Buy Link A Sticky Wicket in Bollywood
Amazon Buy Link: Sticky Wicket in Bollywood
Genre: Bollywood, contemporary
Length: 155 pages

A handsome Bollywood actor must choose between his career and a rugged cricket player from his past, who he’s fallen in love with…again.

Rajan Malik has the world of Bollywood in the palm of his hand—a beautiful girlfriend, starring roles, adoring fans… He should be happy, but behind the façade lies a man conflicted and exhausted by the pressure placed on him by his terminally ill mother, his agent and society. His life is not his own, and all he wants to do is escape.

Indian Premier League cricketer Ajay Singh can’t believe how bad his university roommate Rajan looks when he spots his picture in the paper. They had parted on bad terms. Still, he’s moved to offer Rajan his support by renewing their friendship.

But friendship was not all they shared back then. Though Ajay is out, Rajan isn’t willing to give up his carefully cultivated Bollywood image to be with him publicly. And with very little privacy, it won’t take long for someone to find out they are more than friends.

Their renewed secret affair is fraught with difficulties as they deal with the death of Rajan’s mother, the secret of Rajan’s till-now absent father, a jealous friend, the intrusive media and threatening notes from someone who seems to know all about their private lives…

It’s a bit of a sticky wicket they find themselves in. Will it be too late when they finally realise that they’ll both need to compromise, or they’ll stand to lose everything?

Review

After that blurb there just isn’t much I can put as a spoiler, so.…

I don’t know much about Bollywood, other than India has a thriving movie industry and that very often where a Western film would insert a love or sex scene, the actors break out into song and dance instead. So guarding the public image of the biggest stars in a way that made Rock Hudson’s marriage to Phyllis Gates look like a weak effort seemed right in character.

The bulk of the story takes place in India and amongst the wealthy who never get into documentaries, and the life looked very comfortable. The big inconvenience was dealing with traffic. I didn’t exactly feel transported into either that part of the world or the lives of the MC’s, but it kept me interested. The third person POV didn’t feel especially deep, which kept my involvement with the characters a little more superficial than engaged.

Rajan seems to have stumbled into stardom as a result of ferocious pushes from behind: his mother was a former Bollywood star who was certainly living vicariously though him. How a man whose heart isn’t in it can be bullied into the top tier of something he doesn’t want was a bit of a mystery, but saying “Yes, Maa” to anything she wanted was easier than saying no. Especially with her health for a guilt card. Rajan’s mother was the driving force behind most of the action, past and present. I wanted desperately for him to grow a set and tell her, or anyone, no. The only one Rajan could say no to for any reason was Ajay, which cost him some likeability. He's tired now, but he's also abdicated living his life to other people a long time ago.

Ajay, the top cricket player, was a national star in his own right, and openly gay, something Rajan’s mother had HUGE issues with, costing them the relationship when they were young. Ajay’s still dealing with how Rajan walked out of his life back in their university days, and now that he’s being offered what he missed so much from before, he’s right to be wary about how much commitment he’s being offered from a man who mostly exists as other people’s fantasies.

The secondary characters had quite a lot of life on page: Rajan’s mother certainly dominated the book, his costar Karishma has some spark to her, as does Ajay’s fellow cricketer Neel, all of whom pretty much overshadow Rajan for the strength of their opinions. A few deathbed secrets raised eyebrows—how could a person feels as they did and them behave as they do kept running through my mind.

I enjoyed the story as a look into another culture, but the romance didn’t jump off the page for me, mostly because of Rajan’s lack of spine, and some places where the exposition takes the place of action. Don’t tell me there were riots over a cricket game back when, show me the fans pushing on the sides of the car. The flatness of such details took away from what could have been a vibrant story, but it’s a pleasant afternoon’s read. The story is deeply discounted both at the publisher and at Amazon for a limited time, to 99 cents, so get a copy and let me know if you agree or disagree.  
3.5 marbles

Stealing the Dragon by Mell Eight

Title: Stealing the Dragon
Author: Mell Eight
Cover Artist: London Burden
Publisher: Less Than Three Press
Publisher Buy Link Stealing the Dragon
Genre: Fantasy, YA
Length: 27k words

Stealing from a dragon's hoard is never a bright idea, but stealing from a baby dragon's hoard can lead to tears, sniffles, and smoke in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Jerney, a witch who does work for a well-known thieves' guild, knows exactly who's to blame for the brazen theft. With no other choice in the matter, he quickly becomes entangled in trying to help the baby dragon. What he doesn't expect is that his own heart might get stolen in the process.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The promised baby dragon really is a baby—he might look like he’s a seventeen year old human (probably the author’s signal that “yes, I know he’s too young for a sexy story”) but in dragon years that makes him more like a bright four year old. Tori’s adorable, and part of his problem is that even people who know better treat him the way his human form looks, not in an age-appropriate manner.


Uncle Bast, for instance, (that’s Prince Bast to everyone else) thinks Tori’s mature enough to handle an investigation, but if it’s anything more complicated than “who ate the cookies?” he’s really, really wrong. Sending him to the market alone is a lot like sending him to play in traffic.

The traffic in this world is horse-drawn, with a medieval feeling level of technology and a developed magic system. Practitioners absolutely have to be literate and attain levels of skill as they can master them. That’s where we get Jerney, who has to teach himself as he can from others’ magic books. He’s valuable to his wicked uncle/stepfather because he can be sold, and once his mother is out of the way, he will be. Jerney’s an enterprising child and becomes an enterprising young man---he finds a way out of the horrid fate wicked uncle plans for him, his younger brother, and infant half-sister, and comes to prosper. We see enough of his childhood and youth to know his world and circumstances, and he’s in his mid-twenties before he meets the baby dragon. Jerney’s a likeable character, he’s moves in the reality of his world without being hardened by it, and his family feeling is very strong.

When an impetuous thief steals one of Tori’s treasures, we’re set off on a rollicking adventure where the theft must be sorted and wider plots revealed and solved. Both characters’ strengths and weakness contribute to the plot, and the resolution is very satisfactory. Good fun!

Both characters have POV scenes, and the voices are dramatically different, which I thought was good characterization and also part of my unease with this story. Jerney’s voice matures as he goes from a bright six year old to a competent young man, and Tori sounds like the kid he is. So far so good. Then mix the sexual element in here, and it gets a little squicky.

Let me emphasize that there is absolutely no contact between the characters aside from an over-exuberant kiss that Jerney shuts down immediately because it is inappropriate, the action of a child who is learning how to behave and has skipped ahead in his own timeline. Everybody’s clear on this, even Tori, eventually. But the issue has been raised, and the inescapable conclusion is that Jerney’s going to be celibate for the next thirty years, and I don’t even want these ideas floating around in a story where one of the characters comes across as four years old.

There are a couple of secondary relationships in the background. Tori’s much older brother Nyle has a male lover, and their story appears in another book in this series which I plan to read. Jerney’s younger brother is now a young man, and there’s a hint of someone’s interest in him. That was probably meant to be reassuring that the other party wouldn’t do something inappropriate with a child, but it’s actually sort of creepy in an “I’ve been waiting for you to grow up” way.

So where my problems lie with this story is that it’s trying to be everything to everyone. It doesn’t work as a romance, because Tori isn’t a romantic candidate—he’s a child, and not even saying there’s enough lag time to let him grow up will make this work for me. It does work on the adventure/fantasy level, which I enjoyed very much. A version of this story that had all sexual/romantic elements excised (except please leave Nyle and Leon as an established couple) I would put into any eleven year old’s hand. But Tori is just too child-like to make his actual age a consideration. YMMV. 3 marbles

A picture is worth...

Time for another aww.... inducing picture. We haven't had a shifter in a while, so what might these two kings of the jungle be up to? Look here for directions. 100-1000 words is great.

Slam! by JL Merrow

Title: Slam!
Author: JL Merrow
Cover Artist: Kanaxa
Publisher: Samhain
Buy Links: Publisher, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance eBooks
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 275 pdf pages


Limericks, lies, and puppy-dog eyes…

Jude Biggerstaff is all the way out and loving it—mostly. The Anglo-Japanese university graduate is a carnivore working in a vegan café, an amateur poet with only one man in his life. His dog, Bubbles.
Then there’s “Karate Crumpet”, a man who regularly runs past the café with a martial arts class. Jude can only yearn from afar, until the object of his affection rescues him from muggers. And he learns that not only does this calm, competent hunk of muscle have a name—David—but that he’s gay.

Jude should have known the universe wouldn’t simply let love fall into place. First, David has only one foot out of the closet. Then there’s Jude’s mother, who lies about her age to the point Jude could be mistaken for jailbait.

With a maze of stories to keep straight, a potential stepfather in the picture, ex-boyfriends who keep spoiling his dates with David, and a friend with a dangerous secret, Jude is beginning to wonder if his and David’s lives will ever start to rhyme.

Warnings: Contains a tangled web of little white lies, a smorgasbord of cheesy limericks, a violin called Vanessa, some boots that mean business, and the most adorable little dog ever. Poetry, it’s not...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that blurb, the question isn’t what happens, it’s how. And it’s fun.

Stream of consciousness barely contained, that’s Jude. He’s flamboyant, funny, and when he bleeds internally, he bandages it with another joke. He’s head over heels for David, but what doesn’t go strange in one way goes strange in another. JL Merrow has “frequently been accused of humor” and this story earns her the shaky finger again, in the best way.


Opposites—Jude looks like Gok Wan, only prettier and gayer, and David’s so butch Jude’s not sure he’s gay—the man hasn’t seen a musical in years, and likes watching football. David’s got reason—he works construction in the management end of the business, but he’s not out at work and doesn’t plan to be any time soon. We don’t have any scenes from his POV, but that’s okay, Jude can rattle along for three.

Emitting limericks at irregular intervals to express his anxiety or frustration, Jude keeps us smiling, even when we’d like to whap him for withholding pertinent information from David. Granted, it seems rational at the time, but it does create a sequence of Big Misunderstandings. I can’t summarize better than this brief sequence, where Jude and David have gone on their first real date. Rescuing Jude from some gay-bashers isn’t exactly social life after all.

He shrugged. “I’ve never really been into gay bars. I’d rather go to a normal pub. Uh, does that come off as a bit homophobic?”

I swallowed my last mouthful of saltimbocca. “Yeah, but I’ll let you off because (a) you’re gorgeous and (b) I think my mouth just had an orgasm.” Dreamily, I put down my fork. “Although on second thoughts, that’s not a great mental picture when you’ve just eaten. We have got to come here again.”

“If you like. I’m still hoping to persuade you to try the raw fish at TTY.”

Oops. That again. I bit my lip. Should I come clean and tell him it was all to do with Stinky Cheese Guy?

He’d understand, and then we could have a laugh about it…

I grimaced. Yeah, right. Because it’s always so attractive, finding the guy you’re out with is still hung up on his Evil Ex.

David laughed. “Why do I get the impression I just missed a whole conversation taking place in your head?”

That last sentence—really important.

The supporting characters shore everything up nicely: best gal pal Keisha keeps Jude grounded and provides a sharp foil for his wit, and Mom is a hoot. Mom has a younger boyfriend and a couple of secrets, which slop onto Jude and incidentally demonstrate that he comes by his talent for complications honestly.

In fact, everyone seems to have some way to affect everyone else, and it’s to the author’s credit that this crazy quilt of plot points winds up so neatly. Secrets and confessions fall out of the closet like improperly stored skeletons, and it all winds up as a big AW! in several directions, in spite of the epidemic of foot-in-mouth disease.

The title applies to Jude’s participation in slam poetry fests, where poets recite their work as performance art and are graded by how they affect their audiences. It’s not a huge plot aspect unless it’s needed—this story is more character driven than plot driven, aside from the eventual boy-gets-boy. The limericks are spice rather than meal. I’m very partial to external plot, of which this is rather short: the external elements are subservient to the relationship, and the title theme is nearly invisible for most of the book.

All in all, this is a sweet feel-good-eventually of a story. The Brit flavor is undiluted, not impenetrable to American readers, and is a wonderful antidote to stories where the English charm has been genericized away. If you’re in the mood for flamboyant, funny, British characters and situations, this is the story for you.4.25 marbles

Lighting the Way Home by EM Lynley and Shira Anthony

Title: Lighting the Way Home
Author: E.M. Lynley and Shira Anthony
Cover Artist: L.C. Chase
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Publisher Buy Link: Lighting the Way Home

Genre: Contemporary
Length: 206 pages


World-class chef Joshua Golden is homesick for Paris before he even arrives in New York, but he’ll endure it—his parents need him to help run the family restaurant while his mother recovers from surgery. Running a place so far beneath his talents is bad enough, but bad turns to worse when Josh discovers his former best friend and lover, Micah Solomon, is living at his parents’ house with his ten-year-old son, Ethan.

For ten years, Josh has done his best to forget how Micah shattered his heart into tiny pieces. Now Micah’s back, fresh out of prison, and helping out at the restaurant. Micah may not be the kind of sous chef Josh is used to, but he is more helpful and supportive than any of the other employees. But Josh finds it hard to keep his distance when, time after time, Micah proves himself a better man than Josh thought. Reluctantly, Josh realizes there is more to Micah than his lousy life choices… but that doesn’t mean Josh is ready to forgive him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


This was a peek into a fully realized society for me—part of our American life but unique and with deep flavor. It’s not my background, but I wasn’t lost, and I was definitely intrigued. This is life in a New York Jewish community that’s accessible for those of us who aren’t of that background. The community was palpable but not overwhelming; Josh and Micah fit in but not in any predictable pattern.


There’s pain and longing that go way back, mixed with huge dollops of family expectation and broken hopes. And out of this potent mix, the authors bring the two protagonists through the mess into a place where they might be happy at last. Micah  couldn't possibly have hurt Josh so badly had Josh not loved Micah so deeply, and the authors make us watch how tattered love can become whole again.

Individually, each author has written books that I have sunk into and enjoyed, and together EM Lynley and Shira Anthony have created something seamless and vivid. However these two manage their collaboration, it works. The style is smooth and readable, and carries the story forward.

Josh grew up in the restaurant business, but has left kosher food and all it implies far, far behind. French food, luscious enough to tempt chefs with Michelin stars, is worlds away from the homey Eastern European kosher cooking he grew up on, and it’s his life now. An ocean between him and Micah, who broke his heart a hundred times over, is just barely enough. Now Josh is home to mind the store a while for his ailing parents. And Micah seems to have taken his place as dutiful son.

Watching Josh go from curled up in an emotional fetal position to open and loving is the great character arc of this book—he’s arranged his life to avoid dealing with pain that’s entirely in his face now. From his parents to his former lover, to the life he has and the life that he could have, Josh has to reevaluate everything. His mother and father have gone frail, Micah has a ten year old son, an ex-wife, and a prison record, and Josh is frothing at the mouth to get back to a kitchen that serves not-kosher food. It’s all as far from what he once had and hoped for as he can get. All driven by pain.

Micah doesn’t get any POV scenes, but that’s fine because he is unrolled in small doses as Josh can cope with him. Josh sees details as he can, and Micah is who he is, but slowly unveiled in all his complexity. Micah’s hurt everyone he loves, and is working through his amends. He’s a wonderful character, and in ways he’s deeper than Josh is, because he’s had to come to an ultimate understanding of who he is and what drives him. Fatherhood and the responsibility for another person adds to that. Ethan, his son, doesn’t steal any scenes or spout pages of adorable regurgitated wisdom; he’s just a ten year old who loves his father, wants to play basketball with his buddies, and accepts that his home is where his father is, not a house or apartment. He’s so normal I wanted to feed him pizza and check his homework.

There are a few plot issues that one can see coming, mostly because it has to work out that way else one character or another would be a selfish sub-human (It’s a roller coaster ride, sometimes I wondered—and that’s a good thing!), but the “how it works out” doesn’t disappoint in any way. Other issues make perfect sense after you read the passages and think a little, which adds a delightful complexity to the story. One or two instances I definitely didn’t see coming but given one of the authors’ legal background, I am prepared to believe entirely once it’s explained.

A few plot points are left open ended rather than extend this timeline as far out as total resolution would need. I anticipate a follow-up story more than wish every loose end had been tied here. There’s hope, and for where it’s needed, it’s enough. The rest, we’re left happy.

I enjoyed this story from top to bottom, and I can only imagine how someone more steeped in Jewish culture will see plot points in greater nuance than I can. There are the familiar trappings of Chanukah, but the latkes and candles aren't the plot here: they are the sense of family and continuity.  Beshert, judging from dreamy looks and secret smiles from those I asked who ought to know, has to mean more than “meant to be”, but for Joshua and Micah, it’s good. It’s a foundation for a lifetime.  4.5 stars.

A picture is worth...

How about something straight from mythology? (Or not so straight?)  Anyone with a little story for these two, send it along, with links, a cover, and a blurb from one of your releases, and let us enjoy both. Look here for directions. 100-1000 words is great.

Gay as Mardi Gras by Lily Velden

Title: Gay As Mardi Gras
Author: Lily Velden
Cover Artist: Lily Velden
Publisher: Dreamspinner
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 77 pages

After the demise of his relationship with his childhood sweetheart, Janey, Jesse needs to get away. His nan has just the thing: a month-long cruise around Hawaii and the Pacific Islands. It seems perfect—until Jesse realizes what kind of cruise it is.

A gay cruise.

Since Jesse’s roommate, Daniel, is recovering from a broken heart, the two decide to buddy up. They hit it off, and with Daniel now Jesse's partner in crime, they explore the boat and participate in all the fun activities on offer—with some, ah, interesting results for straight boy Jesse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This story was off to a rocky start—some things do not cross multigenerational barriers well. I was aghast at the beginning, where ultra-accepting Nan not only thinks about the MC’s sex life, she tells him what it is, and meddles in it. This woman is a combination of loving grandmother and Intrusive Female Best Friend with Inappropriate Curiosity. She’d probably be fun if I could get past that shrill NONONONONO! in my mind for the opening 10% of the story where she’s front and center. But I can’t. Others might.


Leaving this chimera behind, we follow MC Jesse on board ship, where he puts two and two together about its gay-centricity, and is relieved to discover that his ship-assigned cabin mate Daniel is a nice guy with troubles of his own, who needs a friend to cover his back. What unfolds is their discovery of one another and Jesse’s reluctant acceptance that he is indeed gay.

The unfolding of this is slow—Daniel doesn’t push, and Jesse needs that whole month to reevaluate. It’s done sweetly and charmingly. Friendship develops first, then a relationship that includes sex. In places it’s a little cloying—their tastes in books, music, and careers have enormous overlap and their disagreements are so minor as to merit less than a paragraph. Daniel is a bit of a cipher, more a mirror to Jesse than a character in his own right. His main role is to reassure Jesse that what he wants is okay; at no time does he particularly assert his desires, even regarding non-sexual issues. All conflict is within Jesse’s head.

The story is told in first person, present tense, which suits Jesse’s “all about the now” mentality, though the mentality may reflect use of the present tense rather than being a deliberate choice. In moments of passion, there are long strings of single-sentence paragraphs, a conceit which could have been dialed back a bit.

Jesse’s reminiscences about his former long term girlfriend appear here and there to contrast her to Daniel, and to the author’s credit, Jesse recalls her fondly, if without passion. The cruise, a month long and an exciting adventure, one would think, is seen mostly as endless food and costume parties. It could have been anywhere on the seven seas for all the tropical anything we’re shown. The ship is scarcely more vivid: we don’t even know if they have a cabin with a porthole or not.

Daniel’s essential flatness made me question if this was converted fanfic; by the author’s admission it is, and in a fandom whose canon I don’t care for. Jesse is more completely drawn, ie I could identify the base canon character. When the author can offer two original MCs alive on the page, I will be happy to read more of her work.

The story was worth reading to follow Jesse’s self-discovery, not only regarding his gayness, but regarding his own stereotyped ideas and misconceptions, though it would be well boosted by a brighter spotlight on other elements of the story. The scenes where most development takes place involve sex. One sex scene contained a humorous oops, but morphed into an inappropriately zipless fuck.

If you don’t expect more than the turmoil inside Jesse’s head, it’s a cute read. 3.25 marbles

A picture is worth...

Can someone build a little explanation for these two? Look here for directions. 100-1000 words is great.

Title: Monster Town
Author: Dakota Chase
Cover Artist: BS Clay
Publisher: PRIZM/Torquere
Buy Link:[amazon_link id="B00BTK4L9G" target="_blank" ]Monster Town[/amazon_link]
Publisher Buy Link Monster Town
Genre: YA paranormal
Length: 67 pages/18500


James Dire has a problem. He doesn't breathe fire, suck blood, or sprout fur and a tail during full moons. He doesn't eat babies, or trample cities, or carry screaming women off to his underwater lair. In short, he's about as dangerous and exotic as a boxful of sand.

While this may not be an issue elsewhere, it is in Eden, James' hometown. Here, everyone, from his parents and siblings, to his classmates, to the mayor, are fire-breathing, bloodsucking, fur-sprouting monsters, and James doesn't fit in anywhere.

James always feels excluded and knows he's always suspect because of his difference. He's very shy, has few friends, and his only sense of purpose comes from his job as reporter for the school paper.
When a girl is kidnapped, James's secret crush, gorgeous werewolf, Theo, pulls him into a hunt for clues to find her before it's too late. What they discover is a plot that's much more involved than a simple kidnapping, and may get them both killed.

In Monster Town, there's nothing more dangerous than being ordinary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Young adult is tricky territory: the age range intended is 12 to 18, and the styles cover the gamut from simplistic to quite literary. Monster Town feels like it should appeal to the younger edge of the range. The sex is nonexistent aside from an embarrassing erection and an almost but didn’t happen kiss. It’s skewed to a high amount of heart-goes-pitty-pat-he-likes-me! And it’s cute. While the story probably doesn’t have enough complexity to interest the older teens, I wouldn’t hesitate to put this story in the hands of 11-14 year olds, for style, the handling of the love interest, and the level of plot. Adults might find it a refreshing quick read.


James feels terribly, terribly ordinary, being a plain vanilla human in a town of idiosyncratic beings. His neighbors range from Bob the big blue blob to zombies and ghosts. A vampire-run grocery store is business as usual, and even his family sports some unusual skills. He doesn’t fit, life is dull, and nothing ever happens. And he can’t say a thing to handsome werewolf Theo, because he’s so danged boring and Theo is so cool. In this, he is a very normal teen.

We get the story from James' first person POV. He's sweet, and rather rollicking in his observations of those around him. He does harp a little too much on his own dullness, which could have been presented a little more enticingly than multiple statements of "I'm so ordinary."

One beauty of this story is that angst over being gay isn’t there. While James feels like an outcast, it’s not for his sexuality, which is just a given. He doesn’t have fur or scales, can’t transform or evaporate or anything interesting like that, though he is considered weird and potentially dangerous because he’s so much like the Outsiders, aka everyone outside their small, vigorously-defended enclave.

Theo and James come together over the mystery of a class-mate’s disappearance, and have to solve it without the adults, who don’t consider young people worth listening to. Adults as buffoons, villains, but not allies, is a thriving trope here. As they work through the clues and the aftermath, James and Theo lean on each others’ strengths and find friendship. There’s a small promise of more, and they’re happy.

There are some inconsistencies with James’ characterization of himself juxtaposed with his small enclave. If regular humans are so vigorously avoided, how does he or anyone know he’s like them? Besides, what’s so ordinary about a guy who can go into the sunlight and not fry, or who has five fingers to a hand and they don’t fall off? Two of them are opposable thumbs, and he’s solid enough to open a door and small enough to go through it, unlike so many of his neighbors. Those are actually not negligible advantages, and if one doesn’t question this, the story works better. The intended audience may not pick up on the oddity of this presentation.

Neither are they likely to have sufficient concept of how a mystery works. Most of the clues are there to be seen, but there are a couple of gaps, making the central conflict somewhat less than fair. The gaps are filled with infodumps later. This might be forgiven as a teenager’s imperfect knowledge of adult business.

The story works on the level it’s meant to resonate on, which is the normality of being gay, peer acceptance, finding strengths, and the young triumphing over their blinkered elders. Perhaps some of the other issues will be addressed in future volumes, because the ending is structured to encourage sequels. I’d read them. 3.75 marbles

The Art of Touch by Dominique Frost

Title: The Art of Touch
Author: Dominique Frost
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Publisher: Loose Id
Publisher Buy Link: The Art of Touch
Genre: contemporary
Length: 20,517 words/ 79 PDF pages

Jared Hamilton is the director of the famous law firm, Hamilton & Hamilton. He’s a brusque, no-nonsense type that doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Thus, it is no surprise that he finds Kyle Washburn instantly and aggravatingly annoying.

Kyle is Jared’s massage therapist and is cheeky and irreverent. Jared doesn’t like cheekiness or irreverence. Unfortunately, Kyle also turns out to be absolutely brilliant at his job, which means that Jared can’t find an excuse not to return to the massage parlor when Kyle’s massages are clearly having such a beneficial effect. Jared is more relaxed and congenial than ever - well, as congenial as he can be.

It is only when another one of Kyle’s customers implies having had sex with Kyle that Jared realizes that he, too, finds Kyle sexually desirable - and that the thought of anyone else touching Kyle is unbearable. This revelation changes Jared’s perspective and his behavior, and he finds himself more and more attracted to Kyle with each therapy session. But does Kyle want him, in return, or is all that flirtation just part of the art of touch?
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Failing to read the excerpt in this case was an extremely good thing, because I might have bailed at the present tense within a paragraph or two. And that would have been a shame, because this turned out to be a lot of fun.


Jared specializes in being an uptight asshole, although he’s got enough covert sparks of humanity to go with it that everyone around him, from his sassy personal assistant to his wealthy uncle, looks out for him. Not that he likes that or appreciates it, because he doesn’t, and he’s loud about kicking and screaming at every sign of thoughtfulness, which he manages to lap up. Under severe protest, of course.

Kyle turns out to be another one of those persistent, pesky caretakers, and he’s just adorable. He gently contradicts Jared at every turn, performing his particular brand of magic, which turns Jared more nearly human. Unfortunately, that humanity returns in stages, and some of the stages are kind of ugly. Kyle teases gently or calls bullshit on him, which brings out more of that latent humanity.

The relationship between Kyle and Jared has to blossom more as a friendship, giving Jared time to rejoin the human race. A lot of details about the two men come out during this unfolding. It’s deftly done and develops the characters beautifully. When they do finally come together, Jared is a very different man than he began, and Kyle has revealed a number of depths.

The story is periodically humorous, although it doesn’t go for non-stop knee-slapping. Jared’s moments of foot in mouth aren’t glossed over with humor but are treated with the seriousness the offenses deserve. He’s not let off lightly, although he does most of the tormenting himself.

I really enjoyed the pacing of the story and the interplay between the men; their hidden details are unrolled slowly and in such a way that you can see them falling in love. There was one sex scene that seemed shoehorned in, and one element of the ending was probably meant to illustrate hidden depths but came so completely out of the blue that it was weird instead of illustrative, but otherwise the story was very nicely done.

Present tense stories usually leave me cold, because the form is hard to manipulate for character and development, with the action always stuck in the now. This story is among the best examples of present tense work in any genre I have read, and the development stacks up with the best. Warmly recommended. 4.5 marbles

A Thousand Word Excerpt from PD Singer

From Return to the Mountain by PD Singer

Adjusting his grip on the five iron, Gary addressed the seventeenth ball from his bucket. The Phippsburg municipal course wasn’t a good patch on the Wapiti Creek course, but the resort courted golfers who could be playing at Augusta or Plum Creek instead. The town spent a sizeable chunk of its Parks and Recreation budget on golf, and the course saw plenty of use. The Humphrey Chamberlin High School golf team teed off three times a week during fourth hour and spent plenty of time on the driving range and putting greens in exchange for some grounds maintenance.

Today was a driving range day, and Gary wasn’t getting anywhere close to the distance he needed on each ball. With grim determination and studied relaxation, he lifted the club behind his head and swung. If he’d been trying to practice hooking the ball instead of driving it, he’d be happier with his performance so far.


At this rate, he’d win the prize for “gets most use out of his greens fees.”

He teed up another ball and checked his club. Maybe he’d selected wrong, or maybe he’d just found the real reason the club’s unknown first owner had hurled it into the rough. Gary’d purchased none of the clubs in his bag; they’d been foundlings left unclaimed at Wapiti Creek and donated to the school. Not all of his clubs possessed completely straight shafts.

Two golfers away, Seth took his backswing with his driver and attacked his ball. Gary helped Seth admire the flight, and long seconds later, the ball bounced among the few others that had made it out to 230 yards today. Seth had probably landed most of those, too, because they fell in a tight grouping in a very nearly straight line out from his position. Gary had landed one or more balls in front of every one of his six teammates.

If the coach came over to try redirecting Gary’s shots again, one or both of them would scream. Instead, the coach summoned Seth. “Morgan, see if you can’t straighten Richardson out.”

Like that would work anyway. But Seth might help with his swing.

After taking one shot with Gary’s club, proving the damned thing could send a ball anywhere an expert wanted, Seth returned it to Gary. “Okay, settle your stance behind the ball.” Feeling far too aware of the desirable presence behind him. Gary obeyed, and tried not to shiver when Seth touched his arms with warm hands.

“Check your grip, and—oh, here….” Instead of explaining, Seth tried swiveling Gary’s hips in a little circle, hands on his waist. “Your back’s stiff.”

No shit. And that wasn’t all. But Gary tried to gyrate easily under Seth’s direction, settling in a straight line once the wiggling stopped. Damn this for being in public, damn the clothing and damn all for this being about golf. Wanting to take a half step back and find naked Seth to press against wouldn’t make his next shot go one degree closer to his target. Swallowing hard, Gary told himself to do nothing Seth hadn’t advised, and why couldn’t the guy use more words and fewer touches? Seth had a firm grip on Gary’s shoulders now, massaging them in circles. “Okay, now take your backswing, but don’t swing.”

Poised in a position he desperately want to uncoil, Gary lifted the club into the air and let Seth pat one shoulder higher.

“Feel that?” Seth asked.

Hell yes. Gary felt hot breath on his neck and fingers of fire through his thin cotton T-shirt. And he felt his left arm’s extension just a little differently, with the three neurons still paying attention to what he was supposed to be concentrating on.

“Come down and then backswing again.” Seth made that same little push, and then he stepped out of range. “Again, and swing.”

Something felt different, and it wasn’t just Gary’s groin. He stepped forward and addressed the ball.

“Go for it,” Seth encouraged him, and like any proper Seth-struck ball, the stupid thing sailed off the head of Gary’s club into the sky, landing a highly satisfactory 140 yards out and nearly on a line with the demo ball. “Do it again.”

Hot damn. It worked. The temptation to undo what he’d just learned to get Seth to come close for another bit of hands-on coaching was very strong, but he’d probably screw up again without a lot of trying. That was the way of skills, a few good attempts, a few not so good. Better not mess up deliberately—he did want to hang on to the better motions. Gary teed another victim and exiled it by 120 yards, although his hook was back enough to land it farther to the left than he wanted.

“Set your ball.”

Seth’s thin frame at his back was setting both of Gary’s balls way more than he wanted—bending to tee up brought too many of his late night fantasies back. Shaking the thoughts away like flies, Gary gave himself half a face full of blond curls. At least his halo of fluff kept Seth from seeing the neon glow of his cheeks.

“Backswing.”

Couldn’t they just run behind the clubhouse and fall into a writhing, naked heap, instead of doing this “wiggle your ass around ’til your back is loose” thing, or the shoulder rubbing that made Gary want to drag Seth’s arms around him and crush their mouths together?

No. They could not. Seth reached around to fix Gary’s grip, turning his hands slightly on the grip to turn the shaft. Couldn’t Seth just tell him? No. Seth never found the words for instructions, just the little pats and twists that made Gary need to handle his other shaft until he could concentrate on anything related to golf. His grip for that would be just fine, even if it would be better for Seth’s coaching, or better yet, for his help.

Oh, damn. They were still on the golf course. With something approaching desperation, Gary nailed the ball for 160 yards straight out and a small “Wahoo!” from Seth. Wahoo indeed. Wahoo would be when he got somewhere private and took care of his stiff dick.
**********
Thanks, Pam! This was a scene from her new book, Return to the Mountain. Top of my TBR list now!

Caddy Gary Richardson hungers for the lush life of the wealthy golfers he escorts around the course at Wapiti Creek. The contrast between his tiny trailer at the edge of a mountain town and the luxurious ski and golf resort is something he’s learned to live with but not like. Gary wants the fancy condo and late-model car not just for himself but for his childhood friend turned lover, Seth Morgan. He’d settle for security for the two of them, but even that seems out of reach.

Seth is content with Gary and enough spare cash for greens fees at municipal golf courses. Going pro is beyond his means, even if he plays well enough to win on the championship resort courses. Gary would do anything to fulfill Seth’s dreams, even things he’d rather keep to himself. When an unheard of opportunity knocks, Gary can answer or resign himself to living on tips from affluent tourists.

But Seth can’t live with that answer when it means his trust has been betrayed. He has to let go and hope the man he loves will find his way home.

From Dreamspinner, Amazon, All Romance eBooks and other fine eTailers.

It's kind of, well, unkind. Kindof. Or kindof not.

This is a reaction to a piece on Jessewave's, where Rick R Reed spoke about kindness. He called for civilized discourse in all things. and I'm fully behind that. However,  what is civilized can also be perceived as unkind, depending, and what an observer may just take as an opinion may be fighting words to someone who's much closer to it. I can only control what I say or write, I cannot control how others perceive it.


There are times when I can review kindly or I can review honestly. Honesty without snark is what I strive for, and at times I have asked experienced reviewers to read over posts to make sure I haven't stepped over the boundary. It may be that I've missed the mark at times. It may also be that the neutral statement of a negative opinion, as Anel Viz put it in the comments to Rick's thread, doesn't feel so neutral to someone. I am mindful that there is a person on the other end.

What Rick said except in one instance didn't set me off as badly as some of the commenters did, and much of this post is in response to them. What some folks are defining as kindness looks a lot more like protection from honest opinions. And is that actually kind? Because the truth is going to come out sometime. The truth can come out with civility, and that is the best one can ask.

Sometimes the most damning review is to summarize a couple of of plot points. Sometimes it's to quote a few lines of text. If the author's own words create the unkindness, then the reviewer is SOL. Walk on by isn't always an option. I have been approached for reviews outside of Wave's umbrella for whatever reason, and those folks get the option of not posting if I can't honestly rate at 3 or above, and they get that because it takes some courage to ask. Some people have taken me up on that. Others have said post. But at Wave's it's buffet rules--we touch it, we take it. I would have bailed on more than a few books had that been an option.

As did Val, I reacted to these words of Rick's: even if that output was utter garbage. It was still someone’s baby

No, this is not someone's baby. A brainchild unleashed on the world has to follow a social contract, which is: it provides something of value in exchange for the audience's limited resources of time and/or money. If it doesn't enlighten, entertain, educate, or provoke thought, it's already violated that social contract. And if it has, a signpost saying so isn't unreasonable. And it won't always be perceived as kind. I might spend as long writing a negative review as I spent reading the work, trying for something that sounds neutral and I HATE that. I have limited time on this planet, and someone's  book just sucked up an irreplaceable part of it. Who has been unkind here?

And yeah, it would be a whole lot easier to just read established names and not review, lest I be perceived as unkind. There are days when this seems like a very, very good idea.

In a review, no one is entitled to more than basic civility. A review isn't meant to provide writing advice to the author, though if it does that's nice. Should a review contain at least one crumb of praise? What if the one praisable thing is "It was written in complete sentences"?  The cries of "snark!" will ring out for that one, but there are books that are just that bad. The authors who write them and the publishers who offer them still want our $6.99.

A friend refers to the "include praise" bit as Suzuki reviewing, after the way she taught her kids to play violin. Seize on the one good thing and ask them to do it again, with a little tweak (to fix the total fail part.) That's fine, it's good teaching.

Reviews aren't teaching except by accident; they are an assessment of a finished product. And authors are not five year olds with miniature violins playing for mommy and teacher. Don't mistake a review for instruction, and don't mistake a reviewer for mommy who praises the smallest accomplishment. If it's being offered for sale, it has to meet that social contract and it's the reviewer's job to mention if it has or hasn't or to what degree. That  can be done without snark, but kindness is often in the eye of the beholder. Best I can promise is honesty.

A picture is worth...

If I make a hole in one joke, is someone going to throw tomatoes? Anyone who can come up with something better is invited to do so, look here for directions. 100-1000 words is great.

Prelude to the Night by Angela Ploughman

Title: Prelude to the Night
Author: Angela Plowman
Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs
Publisher: Loose Id

Publisher Buy Link
Genre: historical, vampires
Length: novella 136 pages, 34k

Victorian England is a place of double standards and hidden mysteries. A chance meeting at the opera propels dutiful, innocent Christian into the seductive arms of an older man.

Valentine has come to England searching for a reason to live. He walks in the darkness listening for that siren's song which will recall him to life. He may have found it in beautiful young Christian but can he persuade Christian to give up the conventions of society and walk a more dangerous path?

Between the two there are perils in the London fog which could separate them forever. The conflict of his comfortable life on one side and the dangers of loving Valentine on the other threaten to tear Christian apart. Whichever path his choose, listening to the music of the night is likely to cost Christian his soul.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This novel takes us back to a more formal time, when young men escorted their mothers to the opera and liked it, and young women could lose their reputations at a glance. Christian is the man of his family, his father being deceased, and is responsible for his mother and sister. It’s a year past the date when Oscar Wilde went to prison, and Christian doesn’t plan to tell a soul where his desires lie.

The writing is beautifully atmospheric, its slight formality and period word choice take us back 120 years. I had no trouble at all feeling transported to London of the late nineteenth century, where culture and appearances reigned in the well lit quarters, ruffians lurked in every dark corner, and modern conveniences like antibiotics didn’t exist. The story is framed as a flashback so there isn’t much question about which choices are made, but the language of the frame is lovely.

Valentine is a fairly standard vampire, the Count of somewhere Carpathian, centuries old and bored with having seen it all twice. He’s entirely too fascinating to Christian, and tends to turn up in the strangest places because of his attraction to the young man. It’s totally an insta-want/insta-love on his part, but to Valentine's credit, he doesn’t use Dracula’s less pleasant methods to obtain his desires.

It’s insta-lust on Christian’s part, though perhaps not of his volition. He, of course, is torn, but the choices become no longer his in a way that was both startling and perfectly in period. This was equally horrifying and suitable, and made me adore a secondary character.

I enjoyed this book, although in places I was thinking I’d read “generic vampire trope,” but something unique in the ending and the lovely language rescued the book from the mundane. 4 marbles

A Thousand Word Thursday story from A.B. Gayle

An Extra Scene From Leather + Lace from A.B. Gayle

Rancid, that’s the word I was looking for. Not tangy or any of the other wanky descriptors emblazoned on the outside of the pack. Ever since good old Minos of Crete slapped a goat’s bladder on his tickler, inventors have sought Nirvana: condoms that taste as good as the real thing. Brother, nothing tastes as good as the real thing. Sure, they smell divine and, at first, the chocolate flavour might add a touch of decadence to the proceedings, but after a few decent sucks, the damn lingering lilt of latex inevitably returned. Unfortunately, the orange, coconut and banana varieties tasted just as putrid. Compactylon, retractylon, sensatylon or whatever the rival brand is called might have been better, but thanks to the huge bag of bucks donated by the manufacturer to tonight’s charity, we were stuck with these goddamnawful things.

In a way, it was my own fault for taking too bloody long to finish the guy off. I should have been as efficient as my fellow participant. Talk about a fucking Hoover! Cycling his clientele through like a bottling plant. Cock in mouth, quick suck, full condom, next please. Trouble is, I’d been trained to believe that if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well and, judging by the moans of appreciation coming from somewhere above my head, the guy connected to the dick in my mouth seemed to agree.

Next time, our customers should be charged by the minute, not by the load. That way, my tally would match the Hoover or Dyson or whatever the twink working beside me was called. Dawson. That’s right. Dawson the Dyson. I might suggest that when we finally come up for air. Much better than his current porn star tag. Mind you, he was definitely well versed in the art. Probably did this every day for a living, whereas I made more money in my usual line of work. A lot more. Come to think of it, I should have just calculated my earnings and donated the money instead of wearing out my knees and getting a serious case of lockjaw.

Wearing knee pads would have helped too. Especially as my outfit would have disguised the fact. I should have remembered from bitter experience what spending hours in this position felt like, and it wasn’t as if there were plush pile carpets in the games room of the Hotel Paradiso.

When I arrived, I’d been surprised that the Blowjob for Bucks segment was being conducted so openly, but apparently the phrases: testing a new range of condoms specifically designed for oral use, infection prevention strategies and all for a good cause had magically morphed into something legal, or at least worthy of a blind eye from the vice squad. At least, I hoped so.

I took another long, slow slurp along the sheathed shaft in my mouth and barely suppressed a shudder at the taste of the latex. Maybe that was the reason for my stupid agreement to participate. One sucked condom too many. In the process, a Trojan virus must have wormed its way into my brain, short-circuiting any common sense that would have warned me that coming back to Australia was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Especially, considering I’d been taking such pains to keep my whereabouts secret. My carefully shored up defences had started to unravel when I heard through the grapevine that Fred was now in charge of the hotel where we met. Possibly my self-imposed exile was starting to wear thin, and there had been a Freudian slip when I sent him a Good Luck email. “You’ll need it,” I had added, “but if anyone can make a success of that dive, you can!”

The invitation to participate arrived soon after. “It’s about time you came back, anyway.” Fred seemed keen for me to have a chat with Master D, an American BDSM expert who was also part of the re-opening extravaganza. He had to be kidding. A leather man was the last person I wanted to speak to. Tonight, it was all about seeing whether my ex was still in the scene without being seen. Catch my drift?

Poor Fred nearly had a coronary when I turned up a couple of weeks later, dressed to impress. He’d never seen me in drag before, but after he picked himself up off the floor and stopped laughing, he could see the potential. “Some straight friends of mine are coming, and they might prefer to be sucked off by someone who looks like a girl.”

Yeah. Especially when that girl bears a stunning resemblance to Stevie Nicks.

Okay, I know. She’s not your usual subject for impersonation, but with all the other female rock stars being done to death, once I got that curly wig on my head, the image kinda stuck. Who would have thought I’d ever be grateful for the pretty-boy face that had been the bane of my existence growing up, or could quit worrying about my lack of inches or the fact that no matter how much I ate, I never put on any weight? Once, my muscles would have been a dead giveaway, but since escaping from the all-controlling whip wielder, both metaphorical and physical, I’d lost a lot of my previous gym-bunny condition.

Ah, finally. The cock in my mouth swelled and jerked, filling the condom that I had carefully smoothed on ten minutes ago. Damn it, Dyson was already onto his third punter and my next one was still sheepishly taking out his flaccid member. While he readied himself, I applied some more Papaw ointment and waggled my jaw to release the aching muscles. Once I started again, my allotted stint sped by, and I soon passed my companion’s tally. Nice to know that I still sucked with the best.

Leather + Lace

An Opposites Attract novel (available from Dreamspinner for preorder--releases March 22)

Swathed in chiffon and lace, Steven Stanhope owns the stage as Stevie Tricks, lip-synching the songs of the famous gypsy queen. But after he escapes an abusive Master/slave relationship, the only collar he'll allow around his neck is black velvet.

After a four-year absence, Steve is ready to reclaim his life and the property he left behind. But is it safe? Definitely not if his ex is still into leather. To find out, Steve appears at a charity night for the local BDSM community, using the anonymity of his stage persona to mask his identity.

Instead of his ex-Master, Julius, Steve finds a tangled mess centered around another Master of Leather, Donato Rossi. In order to unravel their ties to the past, Steve and Don must find common ground and work together. In the process, they learn that when it comes to love, sometimes you have to make your own rules.

Vanity Fierce by Graeme Aitken

Title: Vanity Fierce
Author: Graeme Aitken
Cover Artist: not available
Publisher: Random House Australia
Amazon Buy Link: [amazon_link id="B008JVXCDO" target="_blank" ]Vanity Fierce[/amazon_link]
Publisher Buy link: Vanity Fierce
Genre: Contemporary/recent historical
Length: 375 pages

The ultimate comic novel of gay Sydney – Armistead Maupin meets Melrose Place at the Mardi Gras!

Stephen Spear is everyone's golden boy (including his own). Blond, blue-eyed, blessed with every talent and advantage, he has the world falling at his feet. And he's ready to trample all over it.
When Stephen falls for Ant, the only gay man he knows who still has chest hair, he is astounded to find his desire unrequited. Or is it? Ant is so inscrutable, it's impossible to be entirely sure.

But Stephen is determined to get his man. And if the wiggle of his cute butt isn't enough, then scheming, lying and manipulating is second nature to him. He's too young to realise that love can be tricky enough without adding any extra complications.

Vanity Fierce is a love story that's big on outrageous schemes, dark secrets and firm muscles.

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I had read one of the author’s shorts a while ago, and so when he inquired if I was interested in this novel, I was ready to read and I enjoyed it on several levels.


The odd genre listing is because while Vanity Fierce was a contemporary when it was new (1998), it’s definitely a look at a very specific time, and simply isn’t transportable into current day. Which is fine—we need periodic reminders of what went before, because it affects our world now.

Our protag, Stephen, introduces himself to us while he’s in the Australian equivalent of high school and brings us along for the next few years of his life in Sydney, while he’s exploring his sexuality and trying to find his place in the world. Not that this is really a coming of age story either—Stephen isn’t that introspective. He is a lot of fun though.

He’s cheerfully amoral, with most everyone he meets getting wrapped around his little finger in short order. He’s not manipulative so much as able to see what people would like to do and then making it very easy for them to do it, particularly if it’s to his benefit. Some of his late teen exploits are coffee-snort inducing. (Do you want to preserve your sister’s virginity? he asks the wide-eyed brother of the nymphet he’s chastely dating, and the boy can’t get on his knees fast enough.) He builds a reputation as the over-achieving golden boy with a bright future ahead of him, the joy of his aging actress mother and the perplexity of his restrained but surprisingly complex father.

And then it’s into the world—and he seems to expect to coast on his past, except he’s having some trouble reconciling himself to being a not-nearly so big fish in a much huger pond, and his wiles have to adapt. There are—horrors!—people who don’t provide what he wants in exchange for a bit of carefully bestowed attention. And the real world has a lot of temptations—it’s more fun to hit the clubs than to hit the books. Once he’s come out to his parents, Stephen goes on to attend university with much wrangling over what he’s to study: something interesting and artistic, or more mundane but steadily lucrative, like law. He’s living in a raucous neighborhood, considered so disreputable that its name changes to something more proper depending on who’s talking. The transvestite hookers at the bottom of the stairs are occasionally friends and confidants, as well as funny and philosophical.

And into this mix drops the one man that Stephen is totally smitten with, and for a variety of reasons, can’t approach directly. Ant (short for Anthony but I never did quite get away from 6-legged picnic crashers) has dropped Stephen square into the friend zone, and Stephen is desperate to get out. He’s not used to being told “no” for any reason, and his plots and ruses to change Ant’s mind fuel a large section of the book. He needs a good smack for some of his tricks, but he made me laugh for his charming naughtiness.

This story doesn’t especially feel like a romance, even with Stephen’s pursuit of his unrequited love, who seems to be absolutely random in his choices and decisions. It’s more like a memoir in its structure, with the feel of the narrator telling stories from his life over a beer or six, shaded for maximum entertainment rather than strict truthfulness. It’s a really good time even when Stephen’s coming across as less than admirable (you’ll still snicker). Ant and Stephen have some wildly differing agendas.

About that HEA—it’s more of an HFN—and it’s an amazing thing. The last quarter of the book shoves Stephen into some serious growth, and it made me sniffle, in the best way, even with the foam. And I challenge anyone to read that last line and not smile.

The style has a flavor of Australia, enough to place it, but the slang isn’t overwhelming and indecipherable, and the whole is very accessible for the American reader. The descriptions are illustrative enough that we aren’t left in the dark about the implications of living in Woollahra or being gay in 1995.

Humorous (and yes, I nearly wrote humourous) with a serious undercurrent, and very entertaining. 4.25 marbles