Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Heartstrings by S.J. Frost

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: Heartstrings
Author: S.J. Frost
Publisher: MLR Press
Genre: M/M Erotic Romance, Contemporary
Release Date: May 18, 2012

What inspired the story?

 I've always had a love for music. Sadly, no talent for playing it, and perhaps that's why I seek to express my appreciation for it through the written word. I've written a few books set in the music world, and with Heartstrings, I return there again. While my books to date have all been centered around the rock industry, this one is a little different in that it crosses genres between classical and rock. My love for classical music goes as far back as that for rock. Some may think it's an odd blend to have those two genres as my favorites, but I don't think so. A lot of rock and pop musicians use classical influences in their sound. So while I've been exploring the rock world in my writing, I've also been hoping, waiting, for a classical musician to come to me. He finally did in the form of violin virtuoso, Las Lamont.

 Las came to me fully formed. I knew all about him within minutes of him stepping forward, but I also had a real life model I looked to for inspiration in learning more about the solo career of a classical solo artist. None other than my personal favorite violinist, David Garrett. When hearing him play the violin, it's hard to not feel inspired.

 I had also been wanting to write a story featuring a "non-American" band, as I've been a fan of several international artists over the years; Queen, Def Leppard, U2, Coldplay, to name a few, and I wanted to write a band from somewhere other than the States. It just happened right as Las came forward, so too did Quinn Patrick, drummer for Lions Rampant, the Scottish rock band. It seemed my love for classical and rock was melding together in a way and with a force even I hadn't expected. It all led to the creation of Heartstrings, and what I hope will be an enjoyable story for all who read it.


 Lying on the king-size bed in his hotel room, his eyes closed, Quinn let the soft notes from the violin float over him. He could almost feel them caressing him. Each one moved so fluidly, with such masterful skill in Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise, and yet with a power so subtle his emotions stirred. He went from a sensation of awe, to yearning, to invigoration, and behind his closed eyes moisture built in appreciation of the sheer beauty. The music coursed through him, filling not only his ears, but his whole being.

The way the violin sang, its voice lush and rich, made it seem as though he were listening to a living entity perform. Perfection. It could be described as nothing less. This was the work of a virtuoso. This was Las.  

With the violin’s voice fading into the piece’s end, a knock sounded on his door. Quinn opened his eyes, pulling in a deep breath. He felt like he’d just come out of a trance. He sat up slowly, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, the violin continuing to whisper through his mind.

Knocking rattled the door a second time.

Quinn shook his head slightly, attempting to clear it, and rose to his feet. He switched off the stereo and moved through the bedroom suite, smoothing his clothes on the way to the door. Anticipation replaced the sense of peace the music had brought to him. Since meeting Las that afternoon, he’d had trouble focusing all through lunch with Greg and the meeting afterward, wanting the business to wrap up so he could call him. 

Quinn stopped at the door, doing a final glance down at his clothes and running a hand over his hair.  He opened the door, presenting a smile. His breath caught as he looked at Las.

Las stood with one hand on the outer doorframe, the stance pulling open the top of his black button down shirt. Quinn could see the muscled lines of Las’s chest, the skin smooth and a light bronze. He wore perfectly pressed black dress pants and a black leather jacket that ended just below his hips. 

Las had been looking down, but now lifted his head. Quinn noticed he’d forgone shaving, the stubble accenting his dark clothing. He had his dark blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, same as he’d worn it that afternoon, and Quinn couldn’t help but want to see what it looked like taken down. Las’s eyes, a light brown, locked with his own. It took only looking into them to wake his cock and send his heart pounding. God, but he wanted to be fucked by this man.

A sensual smile slid over Las’s lips. “Hey. It’s good to see you again.”

Quinn took a breath. “You, too.” He turned from the door, using the moment of not looking at Las to find his senses. “You can come in. I just need to grab my wallet.”

Las walked in, closing the door behind him, his gaze on Quinn’s ass in snug black leather pants.  Quinn wore a white long-sleeved shirt, the material hugging his torso and arms giving Las a vision of what the muscular body beneath would look like unclothed. Rings ornamented Quinn’s fingers, and beneath the left shirt sleeve Las saw the edge of a thick black leather cuff bracelet. As Quinn turned for the bedroom, he watched him shake his fingers through his long, black hair.

Las smiled to himself. Quinn was so rock star. It was impossible to look at him and not think he was involved with rock music in some way. There was simply a different feel to him from other people, as though the energy and power of the music he played reverberated around him all the time.  It made him wonder what Quinn would be like in bed.  Wild and unhindered, he imagined. He hoped to find out tonight.

Las cleared his throat, lifting his voice to carry into the bedroom. “I’m glad you called me this afternoon.”

Quinn stepped out, smiling and pulling on a black leather coat. “And I’m glad you weren’t busy. I was afraid it’d be too short notice and you’d already have plans for the night.”

“Actually, other than Julian, I don’t know anyone in this city. I live in New York, but my final concert ended up being here after the first in the tour was canceled, thanks to the flu. I just decided to stick around for a couple days to visit Julian.”

Quinn headed toward the door. “You two go a ways back, then?”

“Back to Juilliard. He was a couple years behind me, but we were still good friends.” As Quinn reached to open the door, Las took a graceful step to the side, putting a hand on it to keep it closed. He met Quinn’s eyes. “But I wanted to ask, do you really want to go out to dinner, or should we just order something up?”

A surprised laugh broke from Quinn. “Well, you’re not shy, are you?  But I normally like to have at least a couple hours of good conversation with someone before I fuck ’em.”

Las took his turn to laugh. “And here I thought all rock stars fucked on the fly.”

Quinn’s smile grew larger. “Oh, I’ve done that, too. And I still do from time to time.  But you see, if I want to have a conversation with you first, then it means I really like you.”

Las moved his hand down to the doorknob. “In that case, I feel honored. Shall we?”

Quinn nodded and walked through the open door. With Las behind him, he adjusted his cock, made fully hard from Las’s lack of subtlety.

The elevator opened right after he hit the down button, and as he stepped in, Las moved to stand close to his side. Though Las didn’t touch him, Quinn’s skin tingled with the desire to feel him, even if it was just a brush of his hand.  He took a deep breath, hoping to calm himself, but all it did was let him inhale the spice of Las’s cologne, the fragrance strong, sharp, and bold. Fitting to its wearer.

He slowly turned his head toward him, finding Las gazing at him. 

His voice low, husky, Las said, “You look really good.” He touched the top of Quinn’s leather pants at his hip. “I especially like these.”

“If that’s so, then you’d probably really like my black leather kilt.”

Las leaned closer to him. “The easier the access, the better.”

Quinn wet his lips. He started to regret the decision not to have food brought up to his room, and wondered if it was too late to change his mind. 

The elevator door opened, snapping Quinn back to the moment. He hadn’t even felt it stop.  He glanced out, seeing a small group of people staring at them, seeming hesitant to enter. If how he felt inside transferred even halfway to his appearance on the outside, he most likely looked about ready to drop to his knees to suck Las’s cock down his throat, so he could understand the people feeling uncomfortable. He gave a polite smile and nod to the group, and stepped out of the elevator.

Where can we find your website?

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Dear Diary by Allison Cassatta

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: Dear Diary
Author: Allison Cassatta
Publisher: XoXo Publishing
Genre: Male/Male Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 15th, 2011

Dear Diary: Pride
Author: Allison Cassatta
Published by: Allison Cassatta
Genre: Male/Male Contemporary Romance


Tell us about your release

Dear Diary” and “Pride” are both more Coming Out/Coming of Age stories. They’re about a boy named Chris who is just about to start his senior year of High School when his sexuality makes a major turn. He didn’t know he had a thing for boys until Josh enters his life and from there, he has to do a lot of thinking and accepting. It ends on a really sweet note though. And Pride picks up where Dear Diary left off. Only now, Chris is really beginning to embrace life as a gay man and he’s becoming comfortable in his relationship with Josh, only to realize society is a lot more bigoted than he could’ve imagined. He’s really put to the test in that book and Josh ends up being the good supportive partner to him.

What inspired the story?

This story came to life because I’d just written “Sins of the Heart” which ends on an extremely gut-wrenching note and a few of my fans asked for something happy, uplifting. So, Dear Diary was born from that. I tried to make it a feel-good story that would make people all warm and fuzzy inside. I wanted to show the beauty of Chris and Josh and how love can overcome anything, even the worst kind of hate as long as you have family and your partner there to support you.


(From Pride – The first time they have anything more than oral sex or hand jobs)
He broke the kiss and looked me in the eyes. His lips were slightly parted like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. His hands slid up to the small of my back. He just kept staring at me, like he was lost or something.
I frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I still want to be with you,” he said.
I started to tell him that I still wanted to be with him too, but then I realized what he really meant. My eyes widened. We hadn’t been together, other than the blowjob on my eighteenth birthday and a few more after, with a couple hand-jobs in between.
“If it’s too soon or the timing isn’t right, I understand, but I wanted you to know, ya know?”
“Yeah, I know. I think… I mean, I know I want to be with you too.”
“No ‘buts.’ I do. I want to do… that with you. I’m a little afraid. I can’t lie and say I’m not. I don’t know anything about it. I mean, you’ll have to….”
“It’s okay,” he said with a soft smile. His hand brushed up and down my back again. He gave me a quick kiss then said, “I’ll take care of you.”
That made things easier, a lot easier. I was still scared, but if he was willing to do the hard stuff and maybe take it easy, go slow with me, I could do this. I think part of me needed to do this. I knew I didn’t want anyone else to be my first, not just because it made sense for him to be the one, but because I honestly loved him. I had this image, this theory, of what it meant to be in love, and Josh fit the criteria perfectly. He was the one person, I wasn’t biologically related to, that I couldn’t imagine being without. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I couldn’t wait to see him again. My heart skipped a beat every time he entered the room and when we kissed, I thought I would come apart.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“I’m sure.”
He smiled and I swooned, like seriously got all weak kneed and warm-hearted. I’d never ever had that feeling before meeting him. Yeah, my first time totally had to be with him, no doubt about it, and if the memory of my first time erased the bad stuff from the prom, I’d take it in a heartbeat.
Letting go of me, he turned and reached down in the gym bag we’d packed our clothes in. I didn’t know what all he’d crammed in that thing. I thought maybe a toothbrush and some hair gel, a change of clothes and nothing else, but then he turned back to me with that excited, toothy grin of his, and when I looked down, I saw a white tube in his hand.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Lube,” he said.
I blushed, ran my hand over my messy, spikey, brown hair again.
“Trust me, okay?” he said in a soft voice.
I nodded. I did trust him, infinitely.
He pressed his lips to mine and gripped my hips, guiding me toward the bed. I was already pretty hard. Josh’s kisses just had that effect on me. He had that effect on me, always had. Hormones always kicked me in the ass where he was concerned.

Where can we find your website?

Allison Cassatta
~ Author ~

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Literary Nymphs Interview

Release Date: MARCH 4, 2012

What inspired the story?

Most of my working life has been spent in law offices, so I know about the hopes and fears law students go through in their search for permanent employment. It’s a very tough business.


The Rivals
by Christiane France

ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-260-7 (Electronic)

Rod Levins’ future as a newly qualified lawyer is anything but certain. After graduating with an above ninety-five-percent average, he’s in line for a job with the town’s number one law firm.

But so are three others, including the man Rod’s fantasized about for many months.

Jinks Jessop gives the impression he’s interested in Rod also, but each time Rod makes a move, Jinks backs off. Is Jinks gay, straight, or simply a rival amusing himself at Rod’s expense?

When it comes to both his career and his personal life, Rod knows that “wanting” and “getting” are not synonymous. But he can hope...


...I was back in my office, reading over some old class notes on estate planning in preparation for my next appointment, when Jinks came in. He closed the door, dropped a file on my desk and came around behind my chair to sit on the window ledge.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I hear you went to lunch with Stew Chetley. How could you do that?”

Jink’s question struck me as blunt to the point of rudeness. I swung my chair around to face him. “What’s the problem? You jealous?”

“Jealous?” His mouth dropped open and he just stared at me for a second. “God, no! You think I’m jealous because you had lunch with that sleazebag? You must be joking. What I meant was, I can’t imagine putting food in my mouth and getting pawed by him all at the same time.” He shuddered. “The mere thought makes me want to throw up. I hope it wasn’t too awful.”

I smiled. “It was fine.”


“Well, we didn’t have a cozy tête-à-tête in some dark, romantic bistro, if that’s what you’re thinking. We had lunch with his accountant to discuss the offer, which, by the way, has now gone belly up.”

“Oh, well, in that case…” He stood as if to leave, but then he hesitated, frowning. “Why on earth would you think I’d be jealous over you having lunch with Chetley?”

“A couple of reasons, I guess.” I gave an offhand shrug, aware I needed to choose my words very carefully. “He’s your dad’s client, you’re neighbors, and you move in the same social circles. I don’t know. I thought there was a chance he might be…how do I put it? Your special friend, perhaps?”

“My what?”

From the look on his face, I wasn’t sure if Jinks was about to pass out or explode. Then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close until our bodies were touching. His eyes were half-closed and dark as night. I could hear him breathing. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest. My heart was pounding, too, so hard I didn’t dare move.

He angled his head, and I knew he was about to kiss me, then he said, “You’re damn right I was jealous—jealous because of you, not him. And the thought of him putting his slimy hands on you made me… Oh, God!”

“Made you what?”

“Want to kill the sonofabitch, that’s what. So there, now you know.”

I closed my eyes, but before our lips could touch, the door flew open, and I heard Scott say, “Oops,” then laugh and add, “Sorry, guys. Am I interrupting something?”

Jinks had immediately stepped back, so I made a stab at glossing things over with some fast thinking and what, to my ears, was a rather phony-sounding laugh. “I had an eyelash in my eye, and Jinks was kind enough to get it out.”

Scott looked from me to Jinks and back, then he shrugged. But I knew from the faint smile and the way he said, “Good for you,” that he had his own ideas about what we were up to.

“You need me for something, Scott?”

“Yeah. It’s about the Young Lawyers’ Club annual barbeque and softball game. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s tomorrow tonight, and you’ve both been drafted to play for McDain. You guys still okay with that?”

“Sure, just email me a reminder of the time and where it’s at, and I’ll be there for sure,” Jinks said as he snatched up his file and disappeared out the door.

After Scott left, I thought perhaps Jinks would come back. That didn’t happen, so I tried calling him a couple of times. All I got was a busy signal and after a couple of attempts, I gave up. Maybe he could pretend nothing had happened, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t forget a thing about those few precious moments. Not his words, the passion I’d seen in his dark eyes, or the look on his face when I knew he was about to kiss me...

Cool mysteries and hot romance -
Latest Release: THE RIVALS -

Where can we find your website?