Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Mickey's Duke by Vicktor Alexander

 Literary Nymphs Interview

Title:  Mickey’s Duke
Author: Vicktor Alexander
Publisher: The Rooster & The Pig Publishing
Genre: Gay Erotic Romance, Steampunk, Scifi
Release Date: July 6, 2012 

What inspired the story?

Honestly? I get inspiration from all over the place. I can’t really remember exactly when I got the story for Mickey and Evander but I do remember that I was talking to one of my adopted older sisters [Cherie Noel] about Harlequin romances, the M/M romance genre and my love for pushing the envelope. I like to see how many different sub-genres, or tropes or conflicts I can put into a story and still make it good. Much like with my book, Unassumed, which is a book about a black cowboy who falls in love with a trans* character (who isn’t completely sure that is the right definition for how he feels) who is also deaf and a shifter, Mickey’s Duke took the steampunk genre and gave it a twist. I love the Regency period, I love gay men [obviously, being one myself], I am a diehard Trekkie [Beam me up Scotty], and I am one of those rare, unashamed people who loves mpreg. I love the idea of a man getting pregnant, just as much as I love the idea of a woman impregnating her female lover. For me there is no box, no lines to cross. This book gave me the chance to do that, because I’ve read some delicious steampunk in the M/M romance genre, I’ve read some hot scifi in this genre, I’ve even read some tantalizing mpreg stories… I am not ashamed to say that I wanted to be the one to bring all three of those elements and mix them together.
Mickey wanted his story to be told. He wanted people to know about being Rodeiron and having a husband, a “genetic match”, who is a duke. He showed up because of my love for the period that his world emulates and because of Star Trek and because if I could I’d so impregnate a few men. I don’t think you can go wrong with having a few Vics running around the world. LOL.
I was beyond shocked when I found out that the book was not only on ARe’s bestseller list but also on Bookstrand’s as well, but I don’t know why. The Regency period is one that everyone loves and seriously? Mickey and Evander’s story is hot. I’m so glad that picked me to share their love story with the world.


An hour later, Mickey followed Evander into a large bedroom filled with large, masculine furniture composed of dark wood and dark blue fabrics. Mickey scratched his left arm lightly, disgust oozing its way through his pores. Where was the colour? The light? Did Evander really sleep surrounded with such absence of light? How hadn’t the man gone bloody insane yet?
          Oh that’s right. He had.
          “You look like you don’t like it,” Evander’s voice sounded closely behind him. Mickey swallowed as his cock thickened in his pants. Oh, this was so the wrong time for his body to be reacting to the sound of Evander’s voice. He’d listened to Evander for the last hour while he showed Mickey around his new home, introducing him to the staff, and Mickey hadn’t had an iota of a sexual reaction to him. So why now? His cock was so hard, Mickey felt as if he would be able balance on it.
          He wasn’t going to test out that theory though.
          “It’s very… masculine,” Mickey responded, hoping Evander would just let things drop. He really should have known better.
          “So you hate it?” Evander asked him.
          Mickey nibbled on his bottom lip. What should he say? He’d always prided himself on his honesty, but he had no idea where things stood between him and Evander. He had no idea why Evander had brought him there. Why he was in Evander’s home when they’d only known each other for a few hours. It confused and scared the hell out of him, and since he had no idea where they were in proximity to his suite of rooms, Mickey had no idea how to get home if the duke should get upset and tell him to get out.
          “Please be honest with me. You will be sharing this room with me. I would like for you to enjoy it,” Evander’s eyes shone bright with honesty, flecks of gold catching in the light from the candles overhead.
          “I will?” he asked in lieu of answering Evander’s question.
          “Yes, you will,” Evander responded with a smile as he ran his fingers through Mickey’s hair.
          “Why?” Mickey asked, the question dripping from his lips like the last few raindrops after a storm.
          “You mean you don’t know yet? You couldn’t tell?” Evander sounded extremely shocked, and Mickey was even more confused.
          “Tell what? Know what? Evander, I need you to tell me what you know,” Mickey stated, his hands reaching up to clutch Evander’s jacket lapels. If Evander already knew they were a genetic match, then that meant he knew Mickey was Rodeiron and the probability of them having a child within the next nine months was definite.
          “That we were meant to be together. That we have a connection. Couldn’t you feel it when you got into the carriage?” Evander’s words were deep and filled with certainty.
          Mickey’s heart dropped and he swallowed thickly. Evander had felt their connection, which was a definite good thing, but he didn’t know that Mickey was Rodeiron which meant they still had a major hurdle to overcome. Dammit, why couldn’t things ever be easy for him?
          “Well, yes, I did. I didn’t expect for you to bring me to your home, though. This is Wilgrin. Everyone knows that---
          Evander placed his finger over Mickey’s lips and he stopped speaking. Well, that was just rude. Mickey mentally huffed as he relaxed his surprisingly tense muscles and looked up at Evander, waiting for him to say whatever it was that he wanted to say. Since he’d stopped Mickey from speaking and everything. If Evander hadn’t been so goddamn gorgeous, Mickey would have kicked him in the shin for that, he’d done a lot more to people for a lot less. But Evander was a duke, a sexy duke, and one just didn’t beat up on the sexy. At least, not in Mickey’s world.
          “Yes, this is Wilgrin, but the Wilgrin of the past, the Wilgrin that perhaps you learned about in university, is not the Wilgrin of today,” Evander pointed out. “Yes, there are some who are against homosexuality, who deem it to be a heinous act against the Great God, but for the most part, people are very accepting of those whose lifestyle does not match up to their own.”
          Mickey stared up at Evander in shock, feeling a little upset that the things he’d learned about in school were archaic and incorrect. Then again, you would expect something like historical and foreign affairs education to be swept under the rug on a planet where people were obsessed with the sciences. Mickey had never been too good at the scientific stuff, not like his brothers or father. Perhaps that was why he was one of the rare male breeders born on Rodeiro, because he would never live up to his potential to be a man of math and science.
          “Oh. So you’re saying that it’s okay for us to be… together… here?” Mickey asked hesitantly. He still wasn’t exactly sure what it was that Evander wanted from him, but perhaps this was a good way to get him to confess whatever it was that he planned to do to Mickey.
          “I’m saying that not only is it okay for us to be together, but that we are going to be together,” Evander stated, his voice firm. “I had every intention of bringing you back home when I saw you run into the alley, but when I heard your voice and then saw your face completely…” Evander took in a shuddering breath and Mickey was shocked by the need and yearning expressed in the heated black depths of his eyes. “I knew that I had to have you. For more than just an hour or a day. I needed to have you forever.” He nodded down at Mickey as if coming to a decision in his head. “And I will,” those words, said in a tone so firm, so decided, brooked no argument, not from anyone.
          Especially Mickey.
          Mickey opened his mouth when there was a knock on the door. Evander walked over to the door to answer it, his shirt thrown haphazardly on the bed, his white cravat hanging limply around his neck as he opened it. Mickey looked through the cracked door and saw David, Evander’s valet.
          “Your Grace, the vicar is here, as is your solicitor, who has procured the special license you asked for. They await you in the green dining room,” David said before bowing to Evander and Mickey. Mickey grinned broadly when the valet gave him a little wink before straightening to his full height, which wasn’t much.
          “Thank you, David,” Evander’s words were haughty, his tone almost disparaging, as if he were looking down on David. Mickey thought that was just… rude for Evander to treat his valet that way and began a mental list of things he needed to speak with Evander about. The first of which was the fact that he was pretty certain he was pregnant.
          Especially since Rodeirons knew within hours of conception whether there was a babe or not, and Mickey definitely knew that he was carrying the duke’s baby.
          “Come, Mickey. You heard:  David, William, and Gregory are here. We’re going downstairs to get married.”
          Mickey’s ass clenched as Evander’s words swept over his senses. Holy fucking shit balls. He was beyond screwed now.

Where can we find your website?
You can find me on Twitter at: http://www.twitter.com/VVeeB

At last count I had over 200 WIPs (whew! I know, it’s a lot). These are books that I have titles for, are in a series or have been marked as single-titles, I have started about 75 of them, and not all of them are paranormal (like the Tate Pack) or Scifi (like The Wilgrin Chronicles), some of them are contemporary, I have military books, magical, historical, college, interracial, urban, Native American, fairy tales, ones with kids, ones without, ones with mpreg, ones with adoption, and ones without mention of children whatsoever. I have a lot of ideas and a whole lot of characters who are looking to have their stories told, so if you climb aboard the Vicktor Alexander train, I’ll try my best to take you to an entertaining, fascinating, and uber hot and smexy destination.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Meet: Rick R. Reed



What are your 2 favorite careers?
Forensic examiner and sex therapist. The two do NOT go hand in hand.

What is the hardest thing you ever had to do?
Watch my mother die from cancer.

Favorite music, song or band
I loves me some Oscar Peterson on the piano.

Are you usually late, early or right on time?

Right on time. I am punctual to a fault.

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

Very much so. I have a family that includes a handsome and loving husband, a wonderful son and his husband, and an adorable Boston terrier, all of whom I can dote upon and all of whom make me so grateful for the blessings I have.

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

At this very moment, it is so gorgeous and perfect in Seattle (72 degrees, abundant sunshine, and no humidity), I’d be hard-pressed to want to go anywhere.

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


Additional info:

Rick R. Reed Biography

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 http://www.rickrreed.com/

You can also like Rick on Facebook at www.facebook.com/rickrreedbooks

  Twitter at www.twitter.com/rickrreed.


Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Bishie Sparkles by Karenna Colcroft

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: Bishie Sparkles
Author: Karenna Colcroft
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Genre: M/M fantasy
Release Date: June 27, 2012

What inspired the story?
My husband and I were talking one day about manga and anime, and he was trying to explain the concept of “bishie sparkles” to me. Basically, it’s when an attractive male character, known in manga and anime as a “bishounen” or “pretty boy” is drawn with sparkles around them to show how attractive they are. When my husband said that, I got a mental image of a bishounen coming to life and still having the sparkles, along with cute little animals, hearts, etc., in the real world.

After he ate, he opened Flower Glove and read it again, cover to cover. Every panel that showed Teruo struck him in the heart like a sledgehammer, but he forced himself to read it anyway. He needed to remember the other man, and he deserved to hurt for the loss when it would have been so easy to say what Teruo—or whatever power had given him Teruo—needed to hear.
When he closed the book, he traced the outline of the picture of Teruo on the cover. His vision blurred with tears. “I love you, Teruo,” he whispered. “I love you.” He looked up at the ceiling. “There. I said it. Now bring him back!”
Of course, nothing happened.
He went to bed and dreamed all night of Teruo. Not dreams like he’d had the night before, but dreams of their trip to the store and of other trips they might have taken around the city. Dreams of coming home to Teruo after a long day at work. Dreams of the life he’d lost because he’d been too stubborn to say three words.
The next morning, he awakened to the sound of humming. It took him a second to remember that there shouldn’t have been any sound at all in his apartment. He was alone.
Except he obviously wasn’t.
He sat bolt upright and stared across the room at the kitchenette, where a slender blond stood nude at the sink, filling the kettle.
“Teruo!” Grant sprang out of bed and rushed to the other man. “You’re back!”
“What’s wrong with my back?” Teruo glanced at him over his shoulder and stuck out his tongue. “I guess someone said the right thing at the right time.”
“Put that down.” Grant gestured at the kettle.
Teruo obeyed, and Grant swung him into his arms, lifting the bishonen off the floor. Teruo laughed, and it sounded like music. Grant set him down and immediately pulled him into a passionate kiss, all tongues and hands and desire.
The kiss left him breathless when, after long moments of touching and tasting, he finally broke it. He could have kissed Teruo forever, but he wanted more. Teruo stared at him, wide-eyed and panting but with arousal in his eyes. The man’s cock was hard against his abdomen, and without a word Grant knelt to take Teruo in his mouth.
Teruo gasped and ran a hand through Grant’s hair. Grant sucked lightly on the head of the man’s cock, then licked down the length of the shaft and nuzzled Teruo’s balls. His own arousal built higher, and desire like flames ran over his skin. He wanted Teruo’s hands on him, but first he wanted to bring his lover pleasure. He owed Teruo that much.
“Oh, yes,” Teruo murmured. “Oh, thank you.”
Grant looked up from under his eyelashes to see that Teruo’s eyes were closed. The man breathed heavily and made small, contented sounds in his throat. Grant licked his way back up Teruo’s cock and then engulfed him with his mouth.
Teruo cried out and tensed, then spasmed against Grant’s lips and tongue. The tang of semen filled Grant’s mouth and he swallowed, amazed that it had taken so little to get Teruo off. He had expected—had wanted—to give the man more oral attention than only a few seconds’ worth.
On the other hand, knowing that he had done his job so well pleased him and was a hell of a turn-on. And ego boost.
He swallowed again and slowly pulled back from Teruo. The other man smiled, panting, and leaned against the counter. “Well, I guess you’re happy to see me.”
“Hell, yes.” Grant stood and held out his hand. “Come with me and I’ll show you how happy I am.”
“You’re not going to make me put on another pair of your sweatpants?”
“Not until I’ve fucked your brains out.” Grant paused and reconsidered his wording. “Not until I’ve made love to you.”
“I think I can wait that long.” Teruo tugged the sleeve of the T-shirt Grant had slept in. “I think it’s a bit unfair that you’re dressed and I’m not.”
“I’ll take care of that as soon as you’re on my bed.” Grant took his hand. “Now.”

Where can we find your website?

Friday, July 20, 2012

Lessons for Survivors by Charlie Cochrane

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: Lessons for Survivors
Author: Charlie Cochrane
Publisher: Cheyenne Publishing
Genre: m/m Historical Romantic Mystery
Release Date: 8th July 2012

What inspired the story?

The Cambridge Fellows started life when I couldn't find any classic age mysteries which featured a pair of gay detectives, no matter how much I yearned to read one. So I had to write my own. That first book, Lessons in Love, spawned a whole series of which Lessons in Survivors is the ninth. The stories span 1905 to 1919; Jonty and Orlando have developed quite a following, although I daren't tell them or they'll get big headed!

This particular tale was inspired by the war poetry of Wilfred Owen (it's set in 1919 and reflects the readjustments returning soldiers had to make) and by my own love for daft puzzles and riddles, which has fed into the mystery part. And, of course, my muses for Jonty (Jamie Bamber) and Orlando (Benedict Cumberbatch) kept "nagging me" until the story was written. It's funny how some characters really get into their author's head and insist on having their adventures described. Now the little so and so's are trying to get me to write another tale about them!


“Perhaps I should save reading this until you’ve had your nap. In deference to you slowing down with age.”
“Slowing down, am I? By heavens, if you still kept a set of rooms here, rather than just this study, I’d have you over the bed and show you who’s displaying no signs whatsoever of slowing down—ow!”
“Touché.” Orlando grinned at having managed to get a pretty sharp blow in. Jonty was usually on his guard and ready to shift his leg out of the way; perhaps this was further evidence of him showing his age. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we shouldn’t take on anything before my lecture’s done.”
“What?” Jonty almost shot out of his armchair. “Where’s all the enthusiasm of earlier on?”
“I just want to savour anything we get involved with solving.” Orlando smoothed the letter in his hands. “Too often in the past, the investigation’s all been a dreadful rush, and that’s half the fun taken away.” Did that sound in any way convincing?
“I suppose so.  This one’s got a pretty tight deadline attached, although the thought of that always seems to galvanise you. Still, if the time’s wrong, then maybe we’ll just have to give this one a miss…” Jonty slowly took off his spectacles and put them away again. “I’ll send the Reverend Bresnan a reply along the lines of us not having sufficient time at present.” He reached out for the letter.
“How long a deadline?” Orlando felt the words come out of his mouth, although he’d only intended to think them. For all his reticence, he did like solving a conundrum while the sands were running out of the hourglass, no matter how much he protested about it at the time. It was like eating very spicy food—both a pleasure and a pain. And he wanted to prove they could still cut the investigational mustard.
“A month. So, by your reckoning, we definitely haven’t got time.” Jonty made to throw the letter on the fire, although his grip on the piece of paper remained firm.
Little bugger, he knows I can’t resist for long. He’s playing me like a fish.  Orlando stood his ground. “A month? It would be very easy to use up that much time without achieving very much. We’d have to be consulted pretty quickly, for a start, or the sands of time would already be trickling through our fingers.”  In that short a time, they might just fail, too, which was untenable.
“Well, as a matter of fact—a splendidly convenient fact—that’s not going to be a problem, as the writer is coming up to Cambridge on Thursday. But that wouldn’t be any use, would it? We shouldn’t tempt ourselves.” Once more, Jonty made a show of putting the letter away, but it still didn’t leave his hand.
“Where’s he staying?” Orlando sighed, half-defeated.
“He’ll be at the University Arms and we could leave a message there, assuming he starts out from home before I can telephone him.” Jonty folded the letter up, carefully.
“Starts out? Where’s he coming from, the Pyrenees?”
“Almost. Deepest, darkest Gloucestershire, which is almost as remote and certainly as cold.” Jonty looked particularly innocent, a sure sign he was winning the fight and knew it. “I could ring him as soon as we get home, if you want.”
Orlando sat back, conquered. A lecture to write and give, new duties to assume in the department (another change Cambridge had seen that he didn’t entirely approve of), newly arrived dunderheads to be licked into some sort of shape. He didn’t have time for a case, especially one with time pressures. But to give up now, through fear of failure, would be an act of cowardice.
 “We’ll see him over lunch on Thursday, if that’s convenient.”
“Good man.” Jonty returned the letter to his pocket, blissfully triumphant.

Where can we find your website?

Charlie doesn't just write the Cambridge Fellows Series, no matter how much her muses insist. Her stories - contemporary or historical - feature a pair of very well mannered werewolves, two actors who can't really investigate crimes (no matter how much people try to make them), an angel or two, a ghost and a paralympic swimmer.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Waves Break My Fall by Kendall McKenna


Title: Waves Break My Fall
Author: Kendall McKenna
Publisher: Silver Publishing
Genre: M/M Erotic Romance
Release Date:  July 28th, 2012

What inspired the story?

Waves Break My Fall is a story that brewed in my head for quite a long while. I was born and raised in San Diego and Mexico is a very common place for people from Southern California to vacation. It’s cheap and it’s close. I am forever running into people down there, who live not far away from me, or that I share experiences and memories with.

I love Puerto Vallarta. It’s one of my favorite vacation destinations and I’ve been there several times. It’s almost always warm. The resorts are very tourist-friendly. As long as you stay within your resort, it’s fairly safe. It’s the perfect place to lie around on the warm beach all day, read my Kindle, listen to my iPod, and drink Mimosas.

San Diego is a military town. It has so many Navy and Marine bases, I can’t name them all. The Sailors and Marines all head to Mexico for the same reasons the rest of us do. It’s fairly inexpensive and drinking rules are liberal.

While I don’t do the heavy nights of drinking and dancing like I used to, I like to hang out in the bars and people-watch. I can identify the bar-flies. I can pick out who’s going to hook up and who’s going to strike out. I also enjoy watching couples flirt and frolic on the beach during the day. I realized it was really the perfect place for a hot, holiday hook-up. It would be semi-anonymous and have the expectation and understanding of ending when everyone went home.

Of course, the writer in me decided it couldn’t be that easy. I conjured an image of a lonely traveler who has come to Puerto Vallarta to escape. He’s running from a private pain. He sees a beautiful man across the way and they make a connection. They spend their vacations having hot sex and come to realize there is more to what they’re feeling than just mutual lust. For the longest time, the only scene I had fully formed in my imagination was the initial bar scene where Kage and Zach meet for the first time. I never pursued the story because there were other priorities. Also, I didn’t think I could develop it into anything of significant length. So, the idea languished.

One day, I was on Silver Publishing’s website looking to see if they had any interesting Special Submission calls. They did: Summer Heat. It was the perfect forum for my story. They were asking for stories that centered on summer vacation romances that take place in warm, exotic locales. The word count they wanted was right where I thought I could take this story. It was a perfect fit.

So, I sat down to develop my characters. One had to be damaged and in the process of running and hiding. Still, he had to be able and willing to heal, under the right circumstances. The other had to have an innate understanding of what the first was suffering through. He also had to gain something in the relationship, which would be missing in his previous relationships with ‘every-man’.

I love to write about US Marines, and you don’t have to go far to find a legitimate emotional issue one might suffer from upon returning home from combat deployment. Marines can be a rough bunch. They’re tender enough to cradle and injured child, but they’re primarily trained killers. I knew his love interest would have to understand this side of him and actually embrace it; get something from it that complimented a part of himself.

Once I had all that figured out, I sat down to write. The rest was easy, since I just wrote the characters falling in love while doing and experiencing things in Puerto Vallarta that I enjoy. By the end, I was really fond of Zach and Kage. I miss them, now that they’re at home together! I just hope I wrote their love story in an entertaining but believable way, that the readers will enjoy.

I like to think I did.

It had to be an hour before Kage realized he was completely relaxed. And, it wasn't entirely due to the beer. Zach was doing the majority of the talking, and the questions he asked were innocuous. Kage didn't mind answering. He found it easy to answer. He found he wanted to answer.
"Fuck, you are gorgeous," Zach suddenly said with an amazed expression and a genuine smile.
Kage choked on his laugh. He hadn't expected that at all. He wasn't gorgeous, was he? He was too hardened, too rough to be attractive to someone as refined and educated as Zach.
"Thank you," he replied quietly. Why couldn't he think of something more witty to say?
"You have such a beautiful smile and the sexiest laugh." Zach shifted on his lounge chair so he was facing Kage more fully.
Kage snorted. "I keep thinking the same thing about you. How is it you're here alone? Why don't you have a boyfriend smart enough not to let you out of his sight?"
Zach laughed in surprise, a warm sound that filled Kage with pleasure. "I can't find one man enough for me." Even with sunglasses hiding his eyes, his expression seemed meaningful.
"How…” Kage swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his throat. “Do you mean in bed or out?"
Zach seemed to consider Kage's question. "Both, actually. If they're strong enough for me in bed, they usually aren't man enough for me out of bed."
Kage shook his head, confused. He stopped himself from twisting to face Zach, afraid it might inhibit him from speaking freely.
"I'm a grown man who can manage his own life just fine," Zach elaborated. "I've wounded more than one man's pride by not needing him to take care of me." His expression shuttered and he glanced around at the other people on the beach.
"You're a college graduate. Why would anyone think you need to be taken care of?" Kage reached for his beer, needing something to do with his hands.
"It's more than that, Kage." Zach sounded almost pleading like he needed Kage to understand this. "Like the other night when I asked if you'd be okay getting back to your hotel. It was stupid because we both know you don't need to be protected."
"Definitely," he agreed emphatically.
"I don't need protecting either, and you didn't treat me like I did. That was so fucking fantastic." Zach was looking directly at Kage again, and it was as unnerving as it was thrilling.
Kage shrugged, knowing he was missing some larger point Zach wanted him to understand. "You're at least six feet tall, and you obviously take good care of yourself,” he said appreciatively. “Who in their right mind would think you needed protecting?"
Whatever Zach might have answered was lost when two young women began to settle in the lounge chairs under the adjacent canopy. Kage's annoyance bordered on sheer anger. Not only did he want to understand what Zach was trying to tell him, he just wasn't up to polite social exchanges with women he cared nothing about.
At least Zach didn't appear any happier about the eavesdroppers.
"Hey guys" One of the women greeted as she adjusted her lounge chair.
Zach returned her greeting coolly while Kage gave a half-hearted wave. The women introduced themselves and Zach politely provided their names in return. Kage shifted uncomfortably, the muscles in his back and shoulders tightening.
The woman named Tanya asked, "How long have you guys been here?"
"A few days," answered Zach.
"How do you like it?" She pressed.
Zach looked at Kage when he answered. "The scenery is great. I'm having a blast."
The friend, Bonnie, chimed in. "Are the clubs in town any good?"
"Jalisco's is great," Zach said brightly.
Kage choked on his stifled laughter. Jalisco's was one of the smaller, sleazier bars on the Malicon.
"Awesome," replied Bonnie with a broad smile. "We were thinking of going into town tonight. Do you guys maybe want to come with?"
"That's a generous offer," Zach said solemnly. "But we've decided to stay in tonight." Before either woman could comment or protest, he stood up, faced Kage, and stretched. "I need the men's room." He announced. "I'll be right back, baby."
Kage was rendered speechless when Zach leaned down, grasped his face with both hands, and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth.  Kage's hand came up to span Zach's ribs. His skin was warm and silky beneath Kage's fingers. Zach pulled back, ending the kiss with a loud smacking sound.
Kage chased the taste with a swipe of his tongue over his own lower lip. His mouth was tingling, and he couldn't catch his breath.
Both women made sounds of disappointment.
"Oh, that is such a waste." Tanya called.
Kage glanced over to see them both smiling ruefully, but not the least bit hostile.
"Not from where I'm standing." Zach called over his shoulder as he crossed the sand to the restrooms.
The women laughed and reluctantly admitted they saw his point.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

A Little Road Trip By Karenna Colcroft

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: A Little Road Trip
Author: Karenna Colcroft
Publisher: MLR Press
Genre: Contemporary
Release Date: June 29, 2012

What inspired the story?

MLR Press put out a call for stories about or involving July 4, the U.S. Independence Day. I thought it would be fun to revisit Braden Porter and Vince Gutierrez, the characters I introduced in my Valentine’s Day story A Little Kiss, and I thought going on a road trip would be a good way for the two of them to sort out some things in their relationship.

After I paid for the food, we went back to our room, still without talking. Vince flopped down on the bed, so I sat in the hard plastic chair at the desk, straddling it back so I could face him. He kept right on not looking at me. That plus feeling guilty sparked a few fireworks out of me. I picked up the chair and slammed it down on the floor. “You wanted to talk. Fucking talk already.”
“Not if you’re going to break shit.” He glared at me, which was a little better than him not looking at me at all. “I don’t even know what we are, you know that? Are we lovers? Boyfriends? Fuck buddies?”
“Since February, you’re the only guy I’ve been seeing,” I said. “Hell, I kiss you. You think I do that with fuck buddies?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
I shook my head. “Never had a fuck buddy, so that’d be a no. I had a bunch of one-nighters. You don’t kiss a guy you just met.”
“But you fuck him? That’s pretty messed up.”
I shrugged. “There aren’t condoms for kissing. There are for fucking and oral.”
“Point, I guess.” He lay back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m not trying to be needy and whiny and shit. I liked you before Valentine’s Day. Then we got together and now…well, it’s a hell of a lot more than like.”
The pain in his voice knocked some sense into me. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. “Same here,” I said quietly.
“Then why is this the first time we’ve stayed a night together?” He sat up and looked at me. “Why do we avoid being near each other at the bar? Why do we care so much about what other people think that we end up acting like all we are is fuck buddies, when as far as I’m concerned we’re so much more than that?”
“I don’t know.” My heart was just about breaking. I’d grown up knowing I couldn’t let on that guys were way more appealing to me than girls. Hearing my friends and their parents—and my own parents—throwing around words like “fag” and “queer.” I’d earned my place in Anglesey, and if anyone knew what I was, I’d lose it in a heartbeat.
Maybe that would be worth it if it meant Vince and I could be ourselves around each other. I’d lived in Anglesey all my life and never planned on leaving, but there were other small towns and other towing companies in the world. If people found out about Vince and I and it didn’t go well, I wasn’t stuck or anything.
Even though the thought of leaving the only place I’d ever lived scared the shit out of me.

Where can we find your website?

Readers can visit my website at www.karennacolcroft.com 
If they want to hang out and chat with me, they can join my Facebook group, 

Braden and Vince will be back again in
A Little Christmas Cheer
which will be coming out late this year as part of MLR’s holiday story line-up.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Graceland By Ally Blue

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: Graceland
Author: Ally Blue
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Genre: Gay Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 3rd 2012

What inspired the story?

It's kind of multi-faceted, actually. I'd been wanting to write a book with a Cherokee main character for a while. I'd also been wanting to write a BBM (Big Beautiful Man) book for quite a while. The idea of combining those two ideas seemed like a natural, actually, since diabetes is a big health problem for the Cherokee people -- I see this all the time at the hospital where I work -- and and adult diabetes diagnosis so often goes hand in hand with being overweight. So I already had that idea in my head, and I had the vague thought of hooking up my Big Beautiful Diabetic Cherokee guy with a medical professional of some sort. But for some reason those fabulous ideas never really settled into a coherent whole.

Then one day I was driving home from work, listening to my iPod as usual, and Paul Simon came on singing Graceland.

Bingo. That was my book-birthing moment.

It's hard to describe my exact thought process here. Partly, I was pondering the song itself. I've always liked the idea of being accepted no matter what that's at the heart of the song. That's really the heart of the book as well -- acceptance of self and others, and reaching a state of grace with yourself and the world around you. Even in those days before I'd started writing the book, that's what I wanted from it, and hearing that song at a time when I was mulling over how to make my book ideas work just kickstarted it for me.

Even more than that, though, my brain went "Graceland... Elvis... OMG CHEROKEE ELVIS IMPERSONATOR! SCORE!"

Yep, the Elvis impersonator angle is the part that somehow took the mess of ideas in my head and tied them together into an actual book. Don't ask me, I don't understand my mind either most of the time. I'm just glad it worked. LOL. And it definitely did. I love Kevin and Owen, and I love the way Graceland turned out.


Finally, gorgeous ages later, when Owen lay limp and spent on the bed, Kevin let Owen’s prick slip from his mouth, leaned over him and kissed him, the kind of sweet, slow, lazy kiss you give your lover on a rainy Sunday morning when you have nowhere to go and nothing to do but lie in bed together. Tears stung the backs of Owen’s eyes.
Kevin lifted his head and smiled. “I beg your pardon,” he screeched, too loud and completely unlike himself.
Owen jerked awake. The mouth-watering smell of bacon frying drifted through the air. For a second, the tone-deaf singing confused him. Hadn’t that been in his dream? Weird that he’d conjure Kevin singing off key in an otherwise sexy dream, though.
He was sucking me off. Oh my God.
In the kitchen, the caterwauling resolved itself into Jeff singing along with “I Never Promised You a Rose Garden” on the radio.
Or maybe singing was too kind a word for it. Owen winced when his brother missed another note by a country mile. “Jesus Christ, Jeff, shut the fuck up!” he shouted.
“Make me, asshole,” Jeff replied, cheerful as no sane person ought to be at seven o’clock on Saturday morning. He resumed singing, louder and more tuneless than ever.
“Oh God. Kill me now.” Rolling over, Owen sat on the side of the bed with his head in his hands and forced himself to listen—without thinking of his dream—until his erection wilted. At least his brother’s inability to carry a tune was good for something.
He stood and shuffled out the door and down the hallway to the kitchen in nothing but the King of the Jungle Room boxers he’d worn to bed. “C’mon, my ears are bleeding here. Just ’cause you’re making bac—”
Owen stopped cold in the kitchen doorway. Jeff grinned from the stove. “Good morning, sunshine.”
For once, Owen didn’t have a comeback. He gulped. Good grief, how could he have forgotten that Kevin had slept over after dinner at his sister’s?
He sidestepped behind a chair, as if he could hide from the sudden flair of inexplicable heat in Kevin’s eyes. How the hell could Kevin possibly find the gut attractive? Or the bruises from the insulin shots Owen had not yet managed to master with any real skill?
Whether it made any sense or not, though, the way Kevin ogled Owen’s naked chest with a swift up-and-down look made his thoughts about Owen’s physique clear. Kevin licked his lips, his gaze locked with Owen’s. “Hi.”
“Uh. Hi.” His head buzzing with either lust or blood sugar out of whack—who the hell knew which—Owen pulled the chair out from the table and fell into it. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine. Your sofa’s actually pretty comfortable.” Kevin forked up a heap of cut-up fried egg, plopped it onto a slice of toast and crammed the whole thing into his mouth. He moaned while he chewed. It sounded positively obscene. Owen pressed his thighs together under the table and wished for Kevin to develop boils on his ass for making porno noises at breakfast. Especially after that damn dream. “Mmm. Jeff.” Kevin swallowed and beamed at Jeffrey. “This is awesome. Thanks for making me breakfast.”
“No prob, man. I like cooking.” Jeff turned from the stove with another plate in his hand. Two fried eggs, dry toast, two slices of bacon. He set it in front of Owen. “Did you take your insulin yet?”
“You know I didn’t. It’s in here.” Owen stared at the food. His stomach gurgled in obvious appreciation. Shit. One of these days he’d learn to keep his temper in check. He faced his older brother’s smirk with as much humility as he could muster. “It was nice of you to make breakfast. Sorry I yelled.”
The smirk edged over the line from smug to gleeful. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to make you pay.”
Kevin coughed into his Harrah’s Casino mug. Owen sighed. “I’m sure you will.”
Across the table, Kevin laughed, drained the last of his coffee from the mug and pushed back from the table. “Owen, where’s your glucometer and your insulin? I’ll check your sugar for you and give you your insulin before I go.”
“Lantus, the meter and the other stuff are in the cabinet there.” Snatching a slice of bacon from his plate, Owen waved a hand toward the hutch on the far side of the room. “Humalog’s in the fridge.” He bit off half the bacon slice. “Mmm. I love bacon.”
“Food of the gods, man.” Jeff held up one fist. Owen bumped it with his.
Shaking his head, Kevin crossed to the hutch and took out the plastic pan with Owen’s supplies in it. “Have you been having to use very much of the Humalog lately?”
“Well…” Owen took the mug of black coffee Jeff gave him and sipped. “Mmm. Good. Thanks, bro.”
“Welcome.” Plopping into another chair with his own coffee mug and plate in hand, Jeff raised his eyebrows at Owen as if to say, why aren’t you answering your boyfriend’s question?
Apparently Kevin had the same thought in mind, because he elbowed Owen’s shoulder. “Hey. Earth to Obo.”
Jeffrey snickered. “The Sykes Tykes strike again.”
Owen winced when Kevin jabbed his finger for a drop of blood. God, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to that. “Fuck, Kev. You stab me in the finger and you call me stupid names? I don’t know where this relationship is headed.”
“Don’t forget I’m about to stab you in the arm too.” Grinning, Kevin took the glucose strip with Owen’s blood on it and stuck it in the glucometer. “C’mon, big guy. I warned you I was calling you that from now on.”
“Yeah, well, if you want to talk like a little girl, that’s your business.”
“I am immune to insults, so save your breath.” The glucometer beeped. Kevin checked it and frowned. “Two hundred and thirty-five. Is it that high every morning?”
“No.” Owen caught Jeff’s reproachful look and wrinkled his nose. “Well. Not every morning.”
“Huh.” Kevin cleaned the top of the insulin vials with alcohol swabs and began drawing the long-acting and short-acting insulins into two syringes. “You might get better control if you took the Lantus at bedtime.”
“Yeah, that’s what Dr. Rivers said too.” Owen shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been taking it in the morning because I was afraid I’d forget to do it if I was up late being Elvis.”
“And how many times have you slept late and overshot your time in the morning?” Jeff pointed his fork at Owen. “You might walk in your sleep, but you don’t take insulin in your sleep.”
Kevin looked startled. “You sleepwalk?”
“No.” Glaring at his brother, Owen held out his arm so Kevin could give him his insulin. “But Jeff has a point, even if he is a filthy liar.”
“What? My brother admits my existence is worthwhile?” Jeffrey slumped backward in his seat, one hand plastered over his chest. “Heart…can’t…take it…”
Owen laughed in spite of himself. “Shut up, you idiot.”
Chuckling, Kevin injected the short-acting Humalog into Owen’s arm. “He does have a good point. You could set your alarm to make sure you’re up early enough to check your sugar and take your Lantus in the mornings, but if you’re out until two in the morning, it’s probably not a good idea to get up at seven.”
“And I’m gonna remind you here that you wouldn’t have woken up today if it weren’t for me.” Jeff raised his coffee cup to Owen. “You’re welcome.”
“Oh my God,” Owen groaned. “Fine. I’ll switch to bedtime and figure out a way to remind myself on nights I’m performing.” He sprinkled pepper on his eggs and started mashing them with his fork. “You’re helping me make the time switch, Kev. Just so you know.”
“Obo, I would even if I had to fight you to let me.” Kevin squeezed Owen’s shoulder. His hand lingered just long enough to make Owen feel distinctly warm inside.
Jeff grinned his most evil grin. “Too bad you can’t be here every morning. To make him behave, you know.”
Thoughts that shouldn’t be indulged except in private—with some lotion and a towel—sprang into Owen’s head. He glanced at Kevin because he couldn’t help it. Kevin looked as if he were trying not to imagine the same sorts of things as Owen.
Wonder if his mental picture involves his hand and my ass too?
Fucking hell.
Owen hunched over his plate and thought about eggs instead.

Where can we find your website?