Monday, December 3, 2012

Subject 13 by Ethan Stone

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title:Subject 13
Author: Ethan Stone
Publisher: Amber Allure
Genre: M/M Mystery/thriller
Release Date: March 2013

What inspired the story?
 A scene from the movie Outbreak with Dustin Hoffman planted the seed in my head. It just took many, many years to solidify the story. It was originally a religious story, then a mainstream romance and then finally the hot, mysterious thriller it became.

File #74262, continued
Two possible issues have arisen. Subject 7 has been undergoing psychological counseling. Surveillance shows the subject could be recovering
Subject 6 also shows signs of being a possible problem. Her continued doubt about how Subject 5, her best friend, died worries me. Additionally, the
fact that she is near everything could prove to be a problem.
* * * *
I woke up later with Ben gone and a blanket wrapped around me. I sat up quickly, but relaxed when I heard the shower running. I pulled on my underwear,
walked into the kitchen and grabbed a soda.
The file of Gwendolyn's I had borrowed from Flint was sitting on the kitchen table, so I sat and skimmed through it. By the time Ben got out of the shower, I had
all the papers spread across the table.
"Hey there," Ben called out, as he walked into the kitchen. I glanced back and groaned. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and his chest was still wet
from the shower. I could see up his leg and had the slightest glimpse of his bare hip.
He walked up behind me, leaned down and kissed my neck. I turned my head so he had easier access, and he sucked for a minute.
"You could've joined me in the shower," he whispered in my ear, making me shiver.
"I figured if I did, we'd get distracted."
"It would've been a fun distraction," he said. He straightened and rubbed my shoulders.
"Babe, my ass needs a bit more recuperation time." I looked up at him and smiled.
A serious look of consternation crossed his face. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No, you didn't hurt me. It was amazing."
"As long as you promise to tell me if I do hurt you." Ben bent my head back and kissed me. He pointed at my mess on the table and asked, "What's that?"
"Gwendolyn's files," I answered with a hint of duh.
He rolled his eyes and grinned. "I mean this." He leaned over me, grabbed one of the sheets of paper and handed it to me.
It was the list of names I'd found while in Lovelock, but not the same sheet I'd first seen. This one was on a different stock of paper--it was thicker and a
different shade. He pointed at a small watermark in the corner of the page. It was Frosty the Snowman, complete with corncob pipe and button nose.
"It looks familiar," Ben said, "although, I don't know where I've seen it before."
"It's Frosty the Fucking Snowman!" I laughed. "You see him every year on TV."
"Besides there, smartass. Who would use Frosty as a watermark?"
I shrugged. "Haven't got a clue."
Ben walked to the side of the table and looked through the papers. The open side of the towel was toward me and I could see his partially erect cock. Seeing it
made my prick go from soft to hard in hardly more than an instant. I reached over and gripped his cock.
Ben let out an almost silent moan as I stroked him. "I thought you said your ass needed more recuperation time?"
"There's more to do than just fuck, right?"
"Don't forget I have to be at work in two hours," he said.
"That's more than enough time." I slid to the floor and pulled the towel from his waist.
Where can we find your website?
 Get on the information highway, turn left past the Railroad Crossing, marked XXX, take a right when you see the dork in the road and look for the big, round Stone.
Meet: Ethan Stone

I’m odd and quirky. I’m creepy and kooky, mysterious and spooky, altogether ooky. Oh wait… I think that’s trademarked.
I’m a 38 year old gay man with the sex drive of a 21-year-old gay man and it shows in my writing. Sex and love and romance is what I like to read so it’s what I write as well. Once you go Stone, you’ll never roam.

What are your 2 favorite careers?
 I’ve been a Sandwich Artist, Cashier, Produce Manager, Electronics Manager, Newspaper Reporter and Correctional Officer. Quite varied careers and I wouldn’t want to ever do any of them again. My dream jobs, not including writer, would be anchor of the Today Show or Movie Critic.

What is the hardest thing you ever had to do?
 Give birth. My god that hurt like a bitch, Wait, that wasn’t me? Oh. Well, in that case my answer is popping that really hard pimple I had on my back.

Favorite music, song or band
 I love Kelly Clarkson. She’s got crazy mad talent and a unique voice. I normally listen to country because where I live we get one radio station, two if the wind is blowing right. The one station used to be contemporary country but now it alternates between Christmas music and classic country.
Are you usually late, early or right on time?

Are you happy with your life for the most part right now?
 Absolutely, except for my job and where I live and being single and the difficulty in finding men and living near my ex-boyfriend.

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
 Atlantis. I’ve always wanted to go to the underwater kingdom and swim with some hot mer-men.

What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up on?
 Either sex or Mt Dew. Well, if I really, really needed to I could give up sex.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

His Reluctant Bodyguard by Loucinda McGary

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: His Reluctant Bodyguard
Author:  Loucinda McGary
Publisher: Loucinda McGary
Genre:  Romantic Suspense
Release Date: Sept. 14, 2012



What inspired the story?

A combination of things. The heroine, Avery Knox was a secondary character in my previous novel High Seas Deception, and she was such a fun character that I decided to give her a book of her own, so His Reluctant Bodyguard became Book 2 in the Adventure Cruise Line series.

I love cruising and on several trips to the Caribbean, I was inspired by the history and culture of the islands in the West Indies. Many of those islands have gone back and forth between British, French, Spanish, and even Dutch rule. Also, the people have developed an interesting blend of various cultures that I found fascinating.

Concierge level guests had their own box seats in a special balcony of the Imperial theater, Rip learned. He sat in the second seat of the four in the front row. Agent Williams sat beside him on the aisle with his swollen ankle propped on a cushion and a hostile scowl on his face...
The waiter no sooner returned with their drinks than the lights dimmed. A male announcer came on and welcomed everyone, ending with, “Here are your co-cruise directors, Ginger Judd and Avery Knox!”
Apparently the second show was a repeat of the first, for the curtain went up to reveal a montage of Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals posters. The irritating red-head roller skated onto the stage warbling somewhat off-key, “Starlight Express! Starlight Express!”
Then the posters parted, and Avery stood at the top of a wide staircase in a tight black dress with a shiny gold jacket, her blonde hair pulled back into an elegant roll. She belted out a couple of lines from “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina,” and the audience burst into applause, none more enthusiastically than Rip.
As Avery swept down the stairs, Williams leaned over and muttered, “If you let her get away, you’re dumber than you look.”
Ignoring him, Rip settled back and enjoyed watching Avery make her brief introduction. She looked poised and elegant while Ginger appeared to be a clumsy buffoon, and Rip didn’t think the latter was purely an act. After a few quick minutes of banter, the two women exited in opposite directions and the show started....
After one huge finale number, the cast took their bows, then Avery and Ginger came back out. Without her roller skates, the red-head barely came up to Avery’s shoulder. They took turns telling the audience what to expect tomorrow when the ship docked in San Juan.
“Gotta hand it to you, Pollendene,” Williams said with a grudging kind of envious tone. “You know how to pick a bodyguard.”
Rip couldn’t keep his huge grin under control. “Good, then you’ll understand why I’m meeting her for a late dinner in fifteen minutes.” Then he climbed over Williams’ outstretched leg and sprinted out of the balcony.
“Wait a minute!” He heard the agent call after him, but he didn’t stop.

Where can we find your website? 

I also have a FaceBook author page:

I love hearing from readers! They are what make this whole writing gig worthwhile, so I'd love for you to stop by my website or author page and leave a comment.

Though it is the second book in the Adventure Cruise Line series, both His Reluctant Bodyguard and High Seas Deception are stand alone stories and can be read in any order.
I'm giving away a free download (Kindle or Nook, winner's choice) of His Reluctant Bodyguard to one randomly selected commenter. I'm also giving away a $20 gift card to one lucky commenter at the end of my blog tour (Dec. 5th).
Thank you again for having me as a guest on Literary Nymphs today!

 About Loucinda (Cindy) McGary
Blessed with the gift of “Irish Blarney” Loucinda McGary (everyone calls her Cindy) became a storyteller shortly after she learned to read. If she didn’t like the way a story ended, she made up her own ending.
A long-time reader of romances, Cindy discovered and joined Romance Writers of America in 2001. But her stressful career as the manager of a multi-million dollar State and Federally funded program prevented her from doing much writing or traveling. She still managed to squeeze in a little of both, but not enough of either to be truly satisfying. Finally, at the end of 2003 she decided to take an early retirement from her career to fully pursue her twin passions of travel and writing.
On Sept. 14, 2007 Cindy received “the call” from an editor that changed her life, and she sold her first book (actually the third book she’d written since she left her job four years earlier). The Wild Sight was released Oct. 2008 and received a rare and coveted starred review from Publishers Weekly magazine. It also went on to win the “Best First Book” category in the More Than Magic contest. In 2010, the electronic version of Wild Sight became an Amazon bestseller in their Top 100 of all books.
In Sept. 2009, her second published novel, The Treasures of Venice was released. This story previously finaled in the prestigious Golden Heart contest in 2006 under the title Jewels of the Madonna. Treasures of Venice went on to win the Judge a Book By Its Cover contest and to final in several other regional contests.
In July 2010 her third traditionally published novel, The Wild Irish Sea was released, and received a four star review from Romantic Times Book Review magazine.
Cindy likes to set her novels of romance and suspense in some of the fascinating places she has visited. To date, she has visited 47 states and 32 foreign countries.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Slow Heat by Lorie O'Clare

Literary Nymphs Interview


Title: Slow Heat
Author: Lorie O’Clare
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: 11/27/12


What inspired the story?

Micah just came to me. He was so damaged, so torn as to where his life would go from where it was now that I couldn’t help but hear what he had to say to me. When he fell in love with Maggie, I knew I had to see the story out. I’ve never written a book as intense as this one before.



This man was dangerous, terrifying in fact. He was a different breed of man than any she’d ever known. Maybe allowing him into her world, requesting that he search deep into her life and her job to find out what had happened to create suspicion toward her was a serious mistake.

Whatever she’d seen when he first entered her office earlier that week was suddenly there again. Dark flecks around his pupils made his hazel eyes turn almost black. It was an emotion she couldn’t label. His expression remained relaxed, just as it had since she met him. Micah didn’t react to anything, at least not like other men did. Even when he’d let his gaze travel over her body, when he’d stared at her boobs a moment longer than what he should have, he hadn’t as much as cracked a smile.

Whatever she saw in his eyes just now was possibly as much emotion as he ever let through. Was it pain? She wasn’t sure. There was definitely something simmering just underneath that mask of indifference on his face, and it wasn’t good.

She shivered in spite of herself and dropped her attention to all the muscle rippling under his t-shirt. “Your boss, er bosses, spoke highly of you.” Maggie imagined Micah had some damn good abilities. Heat spread inside her at the thought of him fucking her senseless. Lord, she needed to get out of there. “I know you’ll be able to fix this entire mess,” she said hastily, forcing her attention on her purse in her hands.

“I’ll take a closer look at your case.”

There was something about the way Micah spoke, as if he were trying to suppress a growl with each word. His raspy baritone scraped across her flesh, igniting relentless need deep inside of her. Thank God it would take a good fifteen minutes through traffic to get home, and that she’d be bombarded with the entire family once she got there. Quite possibly they would all already be fighting. At least then no one would notice how flustered she possibly would still be.

His dark hair was a bit more tousled than it had been when she first walked in the door. She didn’t remember him running his fingers through it and imagined that accepting a case might create some kind of adrenaline rush inside him.

“Thank you,” she heard herself mumble. “I don’t have a lot of time but we can lay out the preliminaries right now and go into more detail on Monday.”

“You don’t work weekends?”

She dug through her purse, pulling everything out until she reached her wallet. Then flipping it open she pulled out a couple of the bills she had left. “My mom has the entire family coming home. Most of them are already there. She called me on my way over here. If I can get away,” she said and broke off her sentence before finishing. She was rambling. Hell of a way to convince this man she was innocent and completely incapable of committing this crime. But then, how did a money launderer behave?

Maggie handed him two hundred dollars. “I hope this is enough to begin our working relationship. Of course, I expect you to log, and keep receipts, of all of your expenses.” When he showed no reaction, and didn’t make a move to take the money, Maggie tried a reassuring smile. “You’ll learn I’m a stickler for numbers and documenting everything. It’s the accountant in me.” She shrugged, then fought off her frustration when he didn’t accept the cash or say anything. She waved the money at him. “Take this. I have a receipt book in my purse, I think. If it’s not enough I have more cash at home.” She was pretty sure he already knew her bank accounts and credit cards had been frozen, which still had her pissed as hell.

When Micah moved, Maggie lowered her hand, straightened, and found herself once again staring into his dark hazel eyes. Maggie held her ground, watching him.

“Pay me when I catch whoever has put you in this situation.” That growl that had been barely audible before came out clearly this time.

When he placed his hand over hers, closing his fingers around hers, and the cash she held, heat exploded inside her. An unbearable pressure swelled to life between her legs. Shifting her weight only caused it to grow.

“I’ll work up a contract,” she said, and looked at his hand over hers. “We’ll make everything official.” It was impossible not to return her attention to those evasive eyes of his.

There was still nothing to read in his dark gaze but his lips curved slightly. They were nice lips for a man, not too full but not thin either. A shadow spread across his jaw bone, the end of the day whiskers. If he kissed her she would feel their abrasion against her skin.

What the hell was she thinking? Maggie tried pulling her hand free of his.

Micah’s fingers tightened around hers, preventing her freedom. But only for a moment. Her hand seemed colder than the rest of her when he finally let her go and dropped his hand to his side.

“No contracts. No receipts. No records.”


“No,” he said with finality. “Enter into a verbal agreement with me. That will require that you trust my decisions and my actions, always. A piece of paper holds a lot less value.”

Maggie almost dropped her wallet. Her skin prickled. There was unleashed, raw lust emanating from his body. If she didn’t take the upper hand immediately, he would have her begging him to take off her clothes, ravish her, do what he wanted with her body. She tried for a deep breath. Her reaction to him had to be a result of so much relief once he’d agreed to help her out.

“Alright. We’ll do this your way. This will be a working relationship,” she told him. “I am hiring you. Contract, or no, you will report your daily activities to me. I’m paying you for a service and I expect full cooperation and communication from you.”

Maggie wasn’t prepared when he grabbed her jaw. Micah didn’t hurt her, but long, hot fingers embraced her neck, pressed against her jugular, and stroked her chin when he tilted her head back and stared down at her.

“This will be a working relationship. But I am the one who can do this job. You will trust me, cooperate with me fully, and trust that I always have your best interest at heart. I will share with you what I can while doing my research but you will accept that I am doing everything in my power to find whoever it is who is laundering money through Club Paradise. That includes you not questioning my every action.”

“Is this how you treat all of your clients?” Maggie grabbed his wrist, not that she could pull him off her if she tried. His pulse beat strongly against her fingertips.


“Why are you treating me this way?”

“Because of the charged lust radiating off you, and me,” he said, his voice that low raspy growl again. “It’s strong enough to fog both of our thinking. I’m putting it under control right now. I believe that you think you’re innocent. I’ll find out the truth, and you’ll accept that truth once I show it to you.”

Where can we find your website?

Meet: Lorie O’Clare
What are your 2 favorite careers?
I’d have to say being a grade school teacher, because I thought for so long about being one and have always believed I’d make a really good teacher. (My kids think so, at least) And my second favorite career would have to be a spy. Like working for the CIA or NSA. I’ve always loved the idea of living outside the lines of normal society. The rest of the world might have to get up every morning and do the same job day in and day out, but I always dreamed about what it would be like to not be one of the numbers. To have a life where your focus lay outside the realm of everyone else.
I think what I do today is a result of loving those two careers. If I can show, or enlighten, someone through a story I’ve written, then I’ve done a good job. And, through the worlds I’ve created I can live precariously as I walk alongside my characters. I probably would have been a lousy spy. But living in the world of fiction, I can be magnificent as an explorer, an adventurer, an adrenaline junkie, and someone willing to dive into danger and save the day! All things that in real life I am not. J

What is the hardest thing you ever had to do?
Hold on, and push forward, while coming to terms with how different my life is now dealing with diabetes and a severe neuropathy. I remind myself daily how hard it was to initially get published. When the pain is bad and I just want to lie down and give into it, I tell myself that if I let go, I’ll never get back what I’ve worked so hard to have in the first place. I’m a published author. I’ve released a lot of books. If I give in, for even a day, I could lose everything I have. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do is cope with pain and write stories worthy enough for you to read.

Favorite music, song or band
Oh wow, I love all kinds of music. All genres—if it’s good. I really like Muse, The 2nd Law, and all of old Muse. I like the Black Keys, the White Stripes, but also I love Led Zeppelin, the Who, the Rolling Stones, the Clash, just to name a few and, well, I really like a lot of classic rock. But I also love country and classical. I’m not too hip on opera.
Are you usually late, early or right on time?
I’m usually late. J

Are you happy with your life for the most part right now?
Oh yes! Life is great. I’m the most blessed person I know.

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
There are so many places I want to see. But definitely at the top of the list would be Ireland, County Clare. It’s where my people are from.

What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up on?
To give up on? children. It wouldn’t be hard though; it would be impossible. I could never give up on them.
Buy Link





Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: Rent    
Author: Rick R. Reed
Publisher: MLR Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 1, 2012 


What inspired the story?
After writing my novel, TRICKS, which brought elements of the love story into the world of male stripping and porn, I thought it would be interesting to continue that idea but this time, I would bring romance to the world of male escorts. In my nonfiction past, I have interviewed gay male sex workers and found their lives fascinating. But I always wondered: how do you separate sex and love, when one is your job and the latter is your dream? I also wondered how sex workers managed to find a stable, loving relationship, or if that was impossible given their work circumstances. Then two characters came to me, both escorts, and I thought it would be fascinating to explore how they navigated the rocky road toward love. Throw in the fact that there’s suddenly been a rash of murders of male escorts as a backdrop and you have a heady brew for a novel…or at least that’s what I hope readers will discover.

On the worst day of his life, Wren Gallagher loses his wallet, his job, and his security. Can a stranger met in a bar deliver on his promises of wealth and meeting Mr. Right?

Sex can be a dangerous business. So can love....

On the worst day of his life, Wren Gallagher wants oblivion when he steps into Tricks for a drink. He's lost not only his job, but his wallet as well. When a mysterious stranger steps up to pay his tab, he also offers Wren the key to fulfilling his dreams of prosperity and true love. But appearances are not always what they seem....

His savior is the owner of the escort agency, A Louer---and he wants the young and handsome Wren to work for him. So down on his luck, Wren figures---why not? He can use the money. When he joins, though, he hadn't counted on meeting Rufus, another escort with whom he quickly falls hopelessly in love.

But their love story will have to overcome the obstacles of not only trading love for money, but A Louer's dark---and deadly---secrets.

It always amazed Wren that Tricks could be so busy, no matter what time of day he stopped in. Today, for example, it was three in the afternoon, a Friday, yes, but still, three in the afternoon. And yet the stripper bar was crowded, mostly with older guys, but some like Wren, too. Younger-wearing snarky 'what am I doing here?' expressions on their faces even as they cast furtive glances up at the two buff guys dancing in G-strings to the latest Lady Gaga anthem.
Outside, Chicago in summer was in full swing, but once you entered Tricks, you forgot all about the city and the season. The traffic sounds at the intersection of Belmont and Broadway, the rumble of the el a few blocks west, and the voices of many pedestrians mingling on the street, disappeared. Tricks was a world unto itself, a universe where nearly naked men, alcohol fumes, colored lights, dirty floors, the clinking of ice in glasses, the husky music of men propositioning men, and mirrored walls all conspired together, creating something that was one part sleaze, one part gay, and one part home (at least for many of the men who frequented Tricks).
Tricks was all about escapism. Its dancers allowed you to free yourself from the shackles of your own body issues. Too skinny? Too fat? In-between but nowhere near remarkably ripped? It was okay at Tricks because the dancers were beautiful and one could imagine they got their ripped and muscular physiques effortlessly, from hanging out in bars, consuming copious amounts of alcohol, and tricking athletically with a parade of handsome strangers. The magic might work for you one day, too.
Or at least that was the fantasy they were selling at Tricks.
And...if your self-esteem tank was running a little low, a wink or a smile from one of the dancers was enough to kick it up a notch. The hunky bartender calling you 'Gorgeous' or 'Stud' didn't hurt either when he asked what he could get you. This kind of behavior from those who worked at Tricks was hard to swallow, yet easy to cling to, making you believe, if only for a second, you were hot. You were wanted.
It was all part of the make-believe. And sometimes, it was enough.
Wren Gallagher, all of twenty-three years old, today needed some of the escapism Tricks offered. Yes, he required it even at three in the afternoon. As the crowd jostled him, Wren kept his eye on the one open stool at the bar in front of him. It was like some sort of prize, an alcoholic holy grail, a place where he could park his skinny ass and maybe, just maybe, forget for a few hours what a crappy day he'd had.
Just as he elbowed his way through the laughing and chattering crowd of mostly middle-aged men and had managed to get within inches of the vacant stool, a heavy-set guy with a bottle of beer in one thick paw materialized out of nowhere to claim it. He was focused intently on the blond Adonis gyrating on the bar, so he did not see that there was a competition for the stool.
Wren stopped and regarded the man with his brown eyes, hoping his telepathy was in good enough working order that the man would feel the force of his gaze. At least one thing would go right on this shitty day, Wren thought, and that one thing-all I ask-is that this character makes eye contact with me.
Lo and behold, he did. Wren smiled prettily, trying to buoy up the older, balding man's ego with the combined force of his slightly gap-toothed, turned-up-at-one-corner grin and his shock of red hair, his slender hips encased in denim, and the geek allure vibe he knew he gave off. He knew because he had been told he was a sexy nerd on more than one occasion.
The guy did a bit of a double take when he saw Wren trying to make eye contact, smiling. He looked up at the dancer and back at Wren, as if he had to decide between one or the other. As if he had a choice...
Wren winked.
That was all it took. The older man stepped back, away from the stool, and gestured with his hands, the perfect gentleman, that Wren should take it.

Meet: Rick R. Reed


What are your 2 favorite careers?
Garbage man and sex surrogate

What is the hardest thing you ever had to do?
Make like a zombie and eat… brains. Beef brains, but still….

Favorite music, song or band
Classic jazz. Give me some Oscar Peterson on the piano or Ella Fitzgerald’s honeyed voice and I am happy.
Are you usually late, early or right on time?
I am usually early. For me, on time is late.

Are you happy with your life for the most part right now?

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
Back to bed!

What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up on?
Writing. I get depressed if more than two days go by and I haven’t written.

Where can we find your website?
Rick R. Reed is all about exploring the romantic entanglements of gay men in contemporary, realistic settings. While his stories often contain elements of suspense, mystery and the paranormal, his focus ultimately returns to the power of love. He is the author of dozens of published novels, novellas, and short stories. He is a two-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). Lambda Literary Review has called him, "a writer that doesn't disappoint." Rick lives in Seattle with his partner and a very spoiled Boston terrier. He is forever "at work on another novel."

Visit Rick's website at or follow his blog at You can also like Rick on Facebook at or on Twitter at

Rent BUY Links:

Wednesday, October 24, 2012


Meet: Jacob Z. Flores

Thanks for having me here at Literary Nymphs. Before we begin, I wanted to let everyone know that as part of the blog tour, I’m holding a contest. All you have to do is leave a comment with your email address to this post, and your name is entered to win a free electronic copy of 3. If a reader happens to follow all my blog stops, then she or he can leave a comment at the other sites a well. This means that someone could enter 7 times for a chance to win the book. At the end of the tour, a winner will be chosen and announced.

What are your 2 favorite careers?
That’s an easy one for me—being a father and being a writer.

Being a father is extremely important to me since I never had one. My parents divorced when I was three years old, and though he lingered in the periphery of my life after the divorce, he disappeared entirely when he remarried. It hurt, badly, and I even called him on when I entered high school. I invited him over and asked why he wasn’t being my father, and his answer was simple (at least for him): “You don’t live with me, and I have a family of my own to raise.”

To say his words destroyed me doesn’t effectively communicate how I felt, but I vowed that when I had a child I would never do to her/him what he had done to me.

When I was finally blessed with a daughter of my own, who is now 12, I made it my life’s mission to give her the unconditional love and support as well as a fatherly presence in her life that I never got from the man who helped create me. I have never gone back on that promise, and I never will. As I’ve learned with parenting, sometimes the bad examples and role models we have in life prove to be the ones we learn the most from, and because I learned those lessons, I am blessed with a darling young lady whose smile make me move mountains.

Naturally, writing comes second. I’ve always loved writing. When I was a kid struggling with my doubts and sexuality, I turned to comic books to chase away my demons. Then, I started writing them. They became quite therapeutic and since then, I’m rarely more at peace than when I’m furiously tapping away at the keyboard.

What is the hardest thing you ever had to do?

That’s a sad, personal story, but the hardest thing I ever had to do was come out to my wife. I loved her a great deal, and she is probably one of the greatest people I know. She was so great that when we first met I thought finding her in college had “cured” me of being gay.
Naturally, I was wrong. Telling her that I could no longer be married to her broke my heart because I knew that I was shattering hers. I had never felt more selfish or guilty in my life. It’s still difficult to recall that day, and when I try, it only comes back in assorted pieces. I think I’ve suppressed that point in my life because the pain was too unbearable.

These days, though, my ex-wife and I get along great and we co-parent as a unified front. Like I said, she’s a remarkable woman.

Favorite music, song or band
I absolutely love Lady Gaga. Not only is her music great, but her message is inspirational to those who feel they are misfits or outcasts. I respect her as an artist and a person.

Are you usually late, early or right on time?

Early to right on time. Being late annoys me. It always has. I think that’s born out of a mother who was a supervisor most of my formative years. She constantly complained about late employees, and she would tell me, “Whatever you do, don’t be late!” If I do arrive late somewhere, I get pissy.

Are you happy with your life for the most part right now?

Yes, I am. My personal and professional lives are on track. I’m not writing full time yet, so when I get there, I’ll be ecstatic!

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?

That’s an easy one. Provincetown, Massachusetts. My husband and I have been vacationing there in the summer for the past six years. Not only do we have a blast when we are there, but we have met some of the greatest people in P-town. We’ve made friends with guys from all over the country as well as with the Townies who live there year round. It’s truly a magical place for us.

What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up on?

Myself. I’ve been a loner for most of my life. I didn’t have many friends, and I learned how to rely upon myself to get through whatever I was facing. If I ever gave up on myself, I would be completely devastated.
Author: Jacob Z. Flores
Publisher: Dreamspinner
Genre: Contemporary m/m/m romance
Release Date: October 15, 2012
What inspired the story?
I got the idea for 3 about six years before I actually wrote it. When my husband and I first vacationed in Provincetown, Massachusetts, the gentleman who picked us up at the airport told us he was a part of a trio.
Needless to say, we were surprised. We’d never met anyone who was in a committed relationship with two other people. We’d heard about such relationships in fiction and film, but never dreamed we’d meet one in real life. Well, maybe if we traveled to Utah.
After meeting the other two men as well as other trios, I started thinking: just how does such a thing happen? The result was 3.
“I think someone’s growing chicken wings,” Xavier said, clucking like a chicken.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Justin asked as his mind once again returned to the present. The DJ was spinning the latest mix of “We Like to Party” by the Vengaboys, and the gays were tearing it up on the dance floor. “And I’m no chicken.”
“Then go pick him up.”
“Pick who up?” Justin asked, aggravated. “Are you blind to how many people are here?”
Xavier laughed and took another gulp of his beer. “I’ll give you one minute to do it before I go get him and bring him to you. Which, as you know, is a penalty, punishable by—”
“Two tequila shots, I know,” Justin said, cutting him off. “Will you just point him out to me? And be more specific than ‘walking through the door’.”
“He’s the Mexican leaning against the wall on the right.”
“Really?” Justin asked. “Mexican is being specific? We live in San An-fucking-tonio!”
Xavier laughed like a fifth grader at recess, something he did whenever he teased Justin, which meant he heard the snicker on a daily basis. “He’s wearing a black muscle shirt and acid-wash jeans. Thick black hair. He’s also wearing a puka shell necklace that all the fags are wearing these days.”
Justin scanned the crowd and saw him, leaning against the far wall with a pink Cape Cod in his hand. He was muscular and rugged, and way out of Justin’s league. Well-sculpted arms and shoulders framed the black shirt. Even at a relaxed stance, his biceps and triceps were clearly defined. Justin hated him for that. He had been working on his arms for months and had yet to develop such muscle tone.
The muscle shirt also clung to his body as if the fabric was wet, and it revealed an absence of love handles on his tightly packed form. Small, perky nipples poked out from the cloth, and the shirt’s fabric ended about an inch before the jeans began. A treasure trail of hair started at his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of the jeans. Just below the waistband was a package ready to be delivered.
“Do you see Puka Shell Boy?” Xavier asked.
“Yup,” was all Justin could say.
“Then go get him.”
Justin swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to end well. The image of a B-52 going down in flames flashed before him.
Then he noticed Puka Shell Boy’s friend.
His friend was a few inches taller than both Puka Shell Boy and Justin. If he had to guess, he would put him at almost six feet tall. Sandy-blond hair lay perfectly manicured and parted to the left. Longer strands of hair curled inward at his cheekbones and lightly kissed the most unbelievable alabaster skin Justin had ever seen. His skin looked smoother than silk, as if a sculptor had spent hours chiseling the precious stone into perfection. Draping his skin was a green short-sleeve button-down, neatly tucked into his dark-blue denim jeans. The shirt was fitted but not painted on him like Puka Shell Boy. His lean body resembled a dedicated runner and was neither waifish nor frail.
Then Justin noticed his eyes. Dark-green tinted eyes decorated his features, magically cutting through the dimly lit bar and outshining the sparkling disco ball. They weren’t a green he had seen before. He had seen light green and even olive green eyes, but these eyes looked to be made of jade. They were a deeper, richer green hue than he had ever seen before in his life. They looked exotic and expensive, found only in jewelry from a faraway Asian country like China or Japan.
They were breathtaking. Justin didn’t understand how people were walking by him and not staring into those eyes. He could stare at them for the rest of the night.
“What’s the matter with you?” Xavier asked. “You’re standing there with your mouth open like a fucking retard.”
“He’s so beautiful.”
“No shit!” Xavier exclaimed. “Think of him as my New Year’s present to you. You just have to close the deal.” Xavier put his arm around Justin’s neck, Xavier’s sign of friendship and love. “By the end of the night, Puka Shell Boy will be on his back looking up at you, or you know, looking down at you on your back.” Xavier then pushed Justin forward. “Now, hurry up. It’s almost midnight.”
Justin didn’t know what came over him. All it took was a simple shove, and he was crossing the room toward the stranger with the perfect skin and the amazing green eyes. He felt drawn to him, as if he were caught in an unbreakable gravitational field.
Puka Shell Boy noticed Justin coming first. He elbowed his green-eyed friend and flashed a disinterested grin, most likely thinking Justin was coming to talk to him. He wasn’t. Puka Shell Boy no longer existed in his world.
As he approached, the crowds around him got louder. Apparently, the stroke of midnight was approaching. Someone was speaking on a microphone, most likely the drag queen hostess for the night’s festivities, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. All he could see were the green eyes and the white skin pulling at him like the moon pulls on the ocean.
“Ten, nine, eight…”
Closer still he drew, passing by couples with their arms around each other, preparing for their New Year’s kiss.
“… seven, six, five, four…”
Six feet from the most beautiful man he had ever seen, Justin found he was holding his breath. He had to remind himself to breathe for fear that he would pass out only a few feet away from his intended. Up close, his eyes were more radiant than from across the room. Flecks of gold glinted within the green irises.
“… three, two…”
Then he was standing before him. Puka Shell Boy leaned next to his friend, amazed that he wasn’t the object of Justin’s attention. He whispered something in his friend’s ear, but his friend wasn’t paying attention. He, too, was staring straight at Justin.
“… one ….”
Justin reached up and put his left hand around the green-eyed beauty’s neck. Pulling his head toward him, Justin crossed the remainder of the distance.
Their lips met, and the world suddenly came crashing back to life. Noisemakers exploded throughout the club. People were yelling “Happy New Year,” and confetti and glitter were tossed about. The DJ began playing “Auld Lang Syne.”
Through the noise, the revelry, and the singing, the two never stopped kissing. Their tongues jostled in each other’s mouths as they each inhaled the other’s hot passionate breaths.
Never had Justin been more excited about a new year.
Second novel (The Gifted One) has been accepted by Dreamspinner
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