Wednesday, January 29, 2014

A Voice to Love (Fallen Tuesday Book One) (A Brothers of Rock Novel) by Karolyn James

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: A Voice to Love (Fallen Tuesday Book One)
 (A Brothers of Rock Novel)
Author: Karolyn James
Genre: Romance
Release Date: 1/2/2014

Do you write in more than one genre?
I write in romance but I write within the romance genre. The Brothers of Rock series is rockstar romance. Under my pen name, Claire Charlins, I’ve been very lucky to write western romance (which has become a bestseller in the western romance genre on I’ve also written in new adult romance and have a contemporary romance series coming this February!

What if any, is the hardest part of writing for you?
The two hardest parts are starting and finishing. Starting is hard because I have so much story to tell I need to find the best way to start it. Then once I get going, I never want to stop! I really hate saying goodbye to certain characters.

What inspired the story?
I wanted to take the success from the first set of Brothers of Rocks books (featuring Chasing Cross) and expand on it with Fallen Tuesday. I wanted to take this newer band that had just broken big. I wanted to challenge the band more than Chasing Cross had been challenged. That means deeper stories and longer stories.

What are some of your other favorite activities?
Of course, as a writer I LOVE to read. I read anything I can get my hands on. Besides that, I really enjoy life… I love watching my two sons grow up. I love enjoying the weather and all four seasons – even though this winter has been brutal! (As I’m typing this, it’s snowing and there’s at least six inches of snow on the ground!)

The Brothers of Rock series continues with Fallen Tuesday!
Lead singer Luke Nolan's sudden success is everything dreams are made of. Going from playing at a local dive bar to touring with mega band Chasing Cross, seemingly overnight and ultimately saving the headliner's tour, has the men of Fallen Tuesday absolutely loving the life on the road. In fact, Luke is loving it so much that he has used every excuse to not tell his bandmates about his medical condition that is worsening with each performance.
In a small town just outside Syracuse, New York, Amy Deleranne seeks solitude in the kitchen of Tommy Two's, her Uncle Tom's restaurant that should have been hers by now. She understands his emotional attachment, but she has poured her life into its survival and has more at stake than anyone knows...
With Luke battling a skyrocketing career and the medically unknown and Amy terrified to look over her shoulder at all times, it is no wonder that sparks fly when they meet. However, can their hearts, and their careers, survive the secrets they've been keeping?

Karolyn James is an award winning / bestselling romance author.  Whether it’s contemporary romance, rock star romance, western romance, or even steamy erotic romance… Karolyn writes it all!
She prides herself on being able to interact with her readers and fans and always tries to respond to every Tweet and email.

Where can we find your website? 

I can also be found:

Monday, January 27, 2014

Shielding Her Heart by Cheryl Yeko

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: Shielding Her Heart
Author: Cheryl Yeko
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: January 6, 2014

Do you write in more than one genre?
 Nothing published. But I’m working on a paranormal.

What if any, is the hardest part of writing for you?
 Writing is the easy part, making sure I make enough room for fun and relaxation with family and friends, and getting the proper exercise, is the hard part. I try to walk three miles a day ... with moderate success. So, to force myself away from the computer, I’ve joined a running class in preparation of a 5K. wish me luck!

What inspired the story?
 This is Rick and Sheila’s story. Who are characters who were introduced in my debut novel, Protecting Rose, which won the 2012 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. This story percolated in my head for two years, before I wrote it. I love Rick, and he is a character in all three books.

After a brutal beating nearly killed her, Sheila Williams’ emotional recovery is at risk when she feels someone is watching her.
The woman Rick Smyth desires shut him out of her life after being attacked in her home.

But when Sheila feels threatened by a stalker, she turns to him for protection.

This time, not only does he vow to keep her safe, he’s determined to win her heart as well.

Author Bio

Cheryl Yeko is an award-winning author, and lives in Wisconsin with her husband Patrick. She loves to read, play piano, and spend time with family and friends. She enjoys novels with fast-paced action and steamy romance, protective alpha men and strong heroines. She belongs to several writing groups, and is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), as well as the Wisconsin Chapter.
She is also an Acquisitions Editor for Soul Mate Publishing. As an Editor, she welcomes Romantic Suspense, Paranormal, Sci-Fi, Contemporary, and Erotica. Her debut novel, PROTECTING ROSE, won the 2012 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence in the Romantic Suspense category.
Cheryl is thrilled to be able to add author/editor to her resume and would love to hear comments from readers.

Where can we find your website? - Where Love Always Wins

Monday, January 20, 2014

Legally Wed by Rick R. Reed

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: Legally Wed
Author: Rick R. Reed
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Genre: Contemporary romance, m/m romance, gay romance
Release Date: January 3, 2014

Love comes along when you least expect it. That’s what Duncan Taylor’s sister, Scout, tells him. Scout has everything Duncan wants—a happy life with a wonderful husband. Now that Seattle has made gay marriage legal, Duncan knows he can have the same thing. But when he proposes to his boyfriend Tucker, he doesn’t get the answer he hoped for. Tucker’s refusal is another misstep in a long line of failed romances. Despairing, Duncan thinks of all the loving unions in his life—and how every one of them is straight. Maybe he could be happy, if not sexually compatible, with a woman. When zany, gay-man-loving Marilyn Samples waltzes into his life, he thinks he may have found his answer.

Determined to settle, Duncan forgets his sister’s wisdom about love and begins planning a wedding with Marilyn. But life throws Duncan a curveball. When he meets wedding planner Peter Dalrymple, unexpected sparks ignite. Neither man knows how long he can resist his powerful attraction to the other. For sure, there’s a wedding in the future. But whose?

Do you write in more than one genre?
These days, I mostly write contemporary love stories about gay men seeking their soul mates. My last several books, Chaser, Raining Men, Hungry for Love and Legally Wed, have all dealt with gay men looking for love (sometimes in all the wrong places). They also usually capture one or more character’s personal journeys, so that they can arrive at a place in their hearts and minds where they’re ready for love.

I also sometimes write horror and psychological suspense. These are genres I love to read and it’s fun to write about extreme emotion, which links both my dark books and my romantic ones. But even in these books, there’s also always an element of romance. My most popular darker titles include The Blue Moon CafĂ©, Orientation, and A Demon Inside. New editions of my earlier horror/suspense/love story works will appear in new and revised editions from Dreamspinner in 2014: IM and Bashed.

What if any, is the hardest part of writing for you?
Characters are the most important part of writing for me. Once I have an idea of who they are as people, what motivates them, what makes them unique, the rest is easier. Once the characters become real for more, they kind of tell me their stories, as crazy as that sounds.

Editing can be hard. You have to be ruthless and make sure that only what’s essential remains in the work. This could mean cutting some things that you love, but in the end, realize do not add to the story’s arc or progression.

What inspired the story?
Some of the details were lifted from my own life and my own experience with what we now call “gay marriage” but that I hope we will someday refer to simply as “marriage.”

The book actually begins on the first day same-sex couples were able to obtain marriage licenses in Washington State. It was a special day for me personally—and yes, I would say that this moment was the inspiration for the book.

Bruce, my now-husband and I were one of the first couples in line down at City Hall in the wee small hours of the morning to get our marriage license on the first day we could. There was such joy at City Hall that morning, both from couples getting their licenses and the employees and supporters who had come out to witness this historic moment. I wanted to write about not just love, but marriage. Here’s the opening and I think you can see what I’m talking about:

Same-sex marriage had just become legal in Washington State and Duncan Taylor didn’t plan on wasting any time. He had been dating Tucker McBride for more than three years and, ever since the possibility of marriage had become more than just a pipe dream, it was all Duncan could think of. He had thought of it as he gazed out the windows of his houseboat on Lake Union, on days both sunny and gray (since it was late autumn, there were a lot more of the latter); he had thought of it as he stood before his classroom of fourth graders at Cascade Elementary School. He had thought of it when he woke up in the morning and before he fell asleep at night.
For Duncan, marriage was the peak, the happy ending, the icing on the cake, the culmination of one’s hearts desire, a commitment of a lifetime, the joining of two souls. For Duncan, it was landing among the stars.
And for Duncan, who would turn 38 on his next birthday, it was also something he had never dared dream would be possible for him.
And now, too excited to sleep, he was thinking about it—hard—once again. It was just past midnight on December 6, 2012 and the local TV news had pre-empted its regular programming to take viewers live to Seattle City Hall, where couples were forming a serpentine line to be among the first in the state to be issued their marriage licenses—couples who had also for far too long believed this right would be one they would never be afforded. Many clung close together to ward off the chill, but Duncan knew their reasons for canoodling went far deeper than that.
The mood, in spite of the darkness pressing in all around, was festive. There was a group serenading the couples in line, singing “Going to the Chapel.” Champagne corks popped in the background. Laughter.
Duncan couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he watched all the male-male and female-female couples in the line, their mood of jubilation, of love, of triumph traveling through to him even here on his houseboat two or three miles north of downtown. Duncan wiped tears from his eyes as he saw not only the couples but also all the supporters, city workers, and volunteers who had crowded together outside City Hall to wish the new couples well, to share in the happiness of the historic moment.
And then Duncan couldn’t help it, he fell into all-out blubbers as the first couple to get their license emerged from City Hall. 85-year-old Pete-e Peterson and her partner and soon-to-be-wife, Jane Abbott Lighty, were all smiles when a reporter asked them how they felt.
“We waited a long time. We’ve been together 35 years, never thinking we’d get a legal marriage. Now I feel so joyous I can hardly stand it,” Pete-e said.
It was such a special moment and it was all Duncan could do not to pick up the phone and call Tucker and casually say something like, “Hey honey, you want to get married?”

What are some of your other favorite activities?
When I’m not writing, I still love to immerse myself in stories. So, I’m a voracious reader and love movies and, yes, television. Right now, I’m reading Boy Still Missing by John Searles and really getting into the current seasons of Shameless, American Horror Story, and am very much looking forward to HBO’s new series about gay men called Looking.

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 three-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Caregiver, Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). Lambda Literary Review has called him, "a writer that doesn't disappoint." Rick lives in Seattle with his husband and a very spoiled Boston terrier. He is forever "at work on another novel."

Where can we find your website?

Buy Links

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Public Affairs by Cassandra Carr

Public Affairs
Cassandra Carr
Published: Jan. 13, 2014

Public Affairs Excerpt

Dueling feelings of nervousness and anticipation warred within Val’s body as Nate parked his car alongside hers then came around to open her door and help her out. She wasn’t accustomed to this kind of chivalry and it was keeping her off-balance. It was especially unexpected in a man like Nate, and made it harder to keep to her assumption he wasn’t a man she could have a future with.

He’s only in town for a little while. Cool your jets.
Nate didn’t let go of her hand and Val felt strange tugging it away. He closed the car door behind her and gently pushed her against it, trapping her between his car and himself. “I have to,” was all he said as his mouth descended on hers. She couldn’t bite back a gasp of surprise, and Nate took that opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth, exploring her with long, deep strokes. Val’s entire body started to tingle and, despite her myriad misgivings, she found herself pulling him closer and snaking her arms around his neck.
Her senses went haywire with each touch of his fingertips to her face. Leaning in more, he pushed his erection into her pelvis and Val let out an involuntary moan. Nate licked at her mouth with his wicked tongue and she couldn’t help but respond, opening her mouth farther to his advances. But when he reached down to cup her bottom in his large hands, she finally had the presence of mind to jerk away, gasping for desperately-needed oxygen.

About the Author

So who am I? I've been writing my whole life, but only decided to pursue writing as a career in the past couple of years. I'm lucky to have an incredibly supportive husband named Inspiration who brings home the bacon so I can stay home and fry it (and eat it all before he's able to fight through the rush hour traffic - I'm mean that way, but like I always say, don't get between a woman and her bacon).
I live in Western New York with Inspiration and our young daughter, Too Cute for Words. I'm a major hockey fan, which explains why many of my heroes are hockey players. If you haven't looked at the guys playing the sport today, search for some images. You won't be disappointed.
I'm a member of the leading professional association for romance novelists, Romance Writers of America, and also serve as president of my local chapter. I've met so many interesting people through these organizations and highly recommend them to any aspiring writer!
As you can see, my life is pretty busy, but I try to take as much time as I can to write. And re-write. And re-write. It's a never-ending, vicious circle, and I love it!

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Jurassic Heart by Anna Martin

Title:  Jurassic Heart
Author: Anna Martin
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Genre: Contemporary/Mystery/DINOSAURS
Release Date: December 27, 2013

Jurassic Heart by Anna Martin
When paleontologist Nick Eisenberg learns that someone thinks they have found velociraptor bones in Alberta, his curiosity overrides his desire to stay in London. After all, he’s one of the world’s leading experts on prehistoric predators and has always wanted to look for the velociraptor’s North American cousins. There’s only one problem: eco-conservationist Hunter Joseph. While Nick supervises the dig, Hunter rallies support from the locals to oppose the way the team is destroying the landscape in their search for dinosaur bones.

Nick and Hunter just cannot get along. Hunter is self-righteous and pouty. Nick is narrow-minded and geeky. But they have to figure out how to work on the same site without killing each other, especially since someone else out there seems determined to cause Nick more problems than he could have ever imagined.

Chapter One
“SO, ERIC White thinks he’s found a Velociraptor skeleton in Alberta.”
I leaned back in my chair with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder and propped my boots up on the desk, appreciating the heavy thunk as they set down and the cloud of dust they emitted—dust that would have been invisible were it not for the late-May sunlight streaming in through the window.

“Eric wouldn’t know his arse from his elbow.”

“Arse? You’ve been in London for too long, kid.” Sam’s accent, on the other hand, was broad New Jersey. I was silently amused at this.

“Call Mim.”

“Miriam is eight months pregnant and can’t bend over to put her socks on, let alone bend over a dig,” Sam said.

Shit. I should have known that. “She’s got a few weeks left, just send her up there. Quick peek, nope, it’s a Triceratops, send her home again.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Nick. You need to go.”

“I don’t need to do anything,” I said, keeping my voice airy and disinterested. Fucking with Sam was one of my favorite activities. “I quite like London, you know. I might stay here.” When he snarled, I laughed. “I have ends to tie up,” I warned him. “I can’t pack my bags and leave tomorrow.”

“But you’ll go?”

“What’s the pay?”

“Standard consultant rate. I can get you five hundred a day.”

“All right,” I said. Really, both of us knew this would be the outcome of the conversation right from the start. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” Sam said. “I’ve booked your flight and e-mailed you the details. You leave from Heathrow on Saturday. Don’t miss it.”

“Damn it, Sam,” I yelled down the phone, but Sam’s response was the steady beep of the dial tone.

I tucked my feet back under the desk as I unlocked the computer and logged on to my e-mail account. Sure enough, Sam had sent through the details of the flight a few minutes before he called me. Cocky motherfucker.

I picked up the phone and dialed Mim’s number, vaguely checking the clocks in my office that showed different time zones—London, New York, Vancouver, Mongolia. Mim was on West Coast time, and I expected she’d be awake.

“So, are you going?” she said as she answered. “You do know it’s six in the morning here.”
“Yes and yes,” I said, leaning back in my chair once more.

She let out a delighted laugh. “I knew it. Charlie,” she called to her partner. “You owe me five bucks.”

“I don’t want to go,” I said, trying to keep myself from whining. “I like London. And I hate Eric White.”

“Eric’s an idiot,” she agreed. “And I seriously doubt it’s a raptor. But Sam will get you good rates, and it’s close to home, so you can go and see your mom.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, all her points being those I’d used when talking myself into taking the gig. “How’s the baby?” I asked, hoping to get brownie points for remembering.

“He’s fine,” she said. “Big as hell now, but fine.”

“And you’re really too fat to fly up and check out a couple of measly not-Velociraptor bones?”

“Fuck off,” she said with a smile in her voice.

“Double your money it’s not even a carnivore,” I said, and she laughed again.

“I’ll take that bet. Safe flight, Nick.”

I said good-bye and hung up, then carefully cast my eye around the tiny office that had been my home for the past seven months. I’d been reduced to doing desk work after I’d fractured my ankle in a skiing accident. Even though Sam—my sort-of agent, occasional employer, and good friend—had been pushing me to write a book, I’d found a little job with measly pay working at the Natural History Museum in London, consulting on an exhibition they were putting together.

That job had officially ended four weeks ago, but I was still in London for lack of anything better to do. They’d let me keep my office because no one else needed it, meaning I was still doing work, although not for money. I was sleeping on a friend’s couch in Kensington because I didn’t have anywhere else to stay, so Sam’s call had come at exactly the right time. Not that I’d tell Sam that. He’d only let it go to his head.

After leaving my office, I headed out of the private gallery and through to the public balcony, down the flights of stairs that led to the main exhibition hall of the museum. The pale tiles and huge vaulted ceilings in the museum had always reminded me of the interior of Hogwarts. It was a silly fantasy, and I’d never voiced it to any of my colleagues for fear that they’d think less of me.

I quickly jogged down the steps, offering the statue of Darwin a quick salute, as had become my habit, and went past the huge skeleton of Dippy the Diplodocus. He was probably the museum’s most famous resident, despite being a replica, not an original skeleton.

I was looking for the project manager who was in charge of the carnivore exhibition. I’d taken it upon myself to dispel some of the biggest myths surrounding Velociraptors—there were a lot of them—and we’d put together something I was sure was interesting, informative, and exciting. I had wanted to stay for the launch, the big day when we’d open the exhibition to the public, but Canada was calling and deep down, I knew I needed to go. More than that, I wanted to.

WHEN MY flight landed in Alberta, I took a deep breath and felt like I was finally home. Not that I really had any physical space I could call home; I’d grown up just outside Vancouver, had done my undergrad degree at UCLA, and had pretty much traveled nonstop since completing my master’s. My parents had moved to Vancouver Island when I moved out—my mom had family there, and my dad was happy to go with her. After traveling so much, I’d learned how not to get sentimentally attached to places or possessions, although that was sometimes easier said than done.

I quickly worked my way through baggage claim, collected my one backpack, and went straight out to pick up a car. All my stuff was being shipped from London to my parents’ house so I could pick it up in a few weeks, or whenever I had a chance. I wanted to get to the dig.
Unfortunately, the park was out in the middle of nowhere, with no airports close to the site for me to catch a connecting flight there. I knew that the drive would take a few hours, and by the time I arrived, two things would have happened: the dig would be closed up for the night, and jet lag was going to hit me. Hard.

I’d worked in the area a few times before, mostly on educational digs, so I knew where to find a motel and crash for a few hours before driving over to the dig the next morning. On the drive, I had time to think.

Like I’d said to Mim, I was convinced whatever Eric had dug up wasn’t a raptor. He was an amateur paleontologist who had been on a few university digs and had convinced himself he could do as well as the professionals. It was insulting. His way of working mostly involved hiring undergrads to do all the grunt work. Then he brought in specialists to make the identifications, which he wrote up for scientific journals.

There were better ways of getting recognition in the academic paleontological community—doing the work himself would have been a good place to start. Rumor had it he’d been kicked out of a doctorate program for stealing other people’s research, and that had been his modus operandi ever since: lying, cheating, cutting corners to try to get the academic acknowledgement he felt entitled to. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in a few years, but Eric was hard to forget.

Someone had once made the unflattering observation that we looked similar—in bad light, if you squinted. He, like me, was slim and of medium height with dark-brown hair. But where I wore mine swept back from my face in a deliberately casual style, Eric’s hung down around his face, greasy and unkempt. His eyes were blue too, and the combination—dark hair, blue eyes—was enough to earn him the nickname “Prince Eric” (after the character in The Little Mermaid), but it was a cruel joke. This Eric was no fairy-tale prince. He had a reputation for being a creep.

For me, the hipster trend had come along at exactly the right time. I’d spent my teenage years and early twenties being an unintentional geek; then suddenly I was allowed to be one and it was socially acceptable. These days I wore my horn-rimmed glasses with pride and didn’t care quite so much about being weird and skinny. I liked to think I was putting distance between the old Nick and the new Nick. These days, I was confident in my knowledge and intelligence and let that part of me lead the way.

Eric had found a few vaguely interesting things over the years. I had met him at a fundraiser once where he’d cornered me and demanded I tell him where he could dig up big predators in the US. I’d told him to start in Manhattan and could still remember his scowl. I’d made vague noises about Montana and New Mexico and had excused myself to the bar. No one had mentioned him for a while, and I’d hoped he’d dropped off the radar, but no, he’d moved farther north and decided to concentrate his efforts in Alberta.

That wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. The bigger university crews had found plenty of species in Dinosaur Park, a site about 120 kilometers north and east of the current dig site. There had been enough finds there that, when pressed in a magazine interview, I’d said it was the spot where someone was most likely to find a raptor skeleton. That this was what Eric was looking for in this location stung. But Eric was a dick. And getting me to come to verify the bones was a nasty little poke at me, proving he’d gotten there first.

I’d do what I could to make my mark on this dig, even if it was only as a consultant, but it all depended on what Eric would let me take credit for. Not a lot, I expected.

The little town on the edge of the dig site was home to only a few thousand people, but there were two motels. I headed to the motel on the far end of town on purpose, not in the mood to run into any colleagues before I’d had chance to sleep until my body clock caught up with me.
The motel was small but clean, and I parked out back and locked the rental before walking around to the front desk. It already felt colder here than it was in London, but England was basking in a freakishly warm summer, and I’d become used to walking to work in T-shirts and cutoff shorts.

“Welcome to Deacon,” a middle-aged woman said as I dumped my bag on the floor.
“Thanks,” I said. “Could I get a double? Just for tonight. But I might end up staying.”

She tapped at her computer, gave me a room card, and talked me through breakfast times, wake-up calls, and emergency escape routes. I nodded through her speech, not really listening. When she finally finished, thankfully not expecting me to engage in conversation, I took myself off to the staircase she’d pointed out to the left of the elevator.

I hated taking the elevator. And it seemed really lazy to use it to go up one floor.
After finding the room, I let myself in and cast a quick glance around, taking in my surroundings, before going to the window and pulling the heavy drapes closed. I just managed to toe off my boots, strip off my jeans, and pull the comforter over myself before falling heavily into sleep.

WHEN I arrived at the dig the next morning (feeling ridiculously refreshed), I was met by an undergrad rather than Eric White himself. Which was typical—Eric wasn’t going to drag himself out of bed at eight in the morning to meet me, despite him being the one who insisted I come halfway around the world to look at the find.

The guy who greeted me with coffee was a sweetheart: tall and rangy and unfolding himself like a grasshopper from where he’d been sitting, leaning against the side of a car and studying his notes.

Brad showed me through the campsite to where they’d set up a mobile lab. It was on the small side and modestly stocked, but I recognized the quality of the work they were putting together. Pictures and maps were tacked to the walls, along with aerial photographs and topographical charts. It looked like someone had put a lot of effort into making it a useful learning space.
“Right, what have you got here?”

He pushed an envelope across the desk, and I sighed. Of course Eric wouldn’t have actual bones for me to look at. He’d make me check the photos first. Dick. I sipped my coffee Brad had made for me and pulled out the sheaf of photographs, then laid them carefully on the desk side by side. Brad watched me intently, and I worked to keep my face impassive.

It was only a partial find, which wouldn’t necessarily stop me from making identification. From what I could tell from the first wide-shot photograph, it looked like part of the animal’s spine, pelvis, tail, and most of one leg had been recovered. The foot was distorted, and the ankle joint was clearly damaged.

These types of partial finds were much more common than complete skeletons. More often than not, when I was called in to identify something, it was because the head was missing. Identifying animals from skulls and teeth was easy. Trying to guess what it was from its backside was harder.

“Where did you find the bones?” I asked.

“Area D5,” Brad said, pointing to a wall map that had the grid references marked on it. “I’ve been working D4 and D5, and E4 and E5.”

“And who made the identification?”

“Mr. White,” Brad said, sounding hesitant for the first time.

I suppressed a smile. “Okay.”

“He called Mr. Hetherington,” Brad continued, referring to Sam, “asking him to write a press release. Mr. Hetherington said he wouldn’t announce it to the academic community or the press until a consultant had confirmed the find.” He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I guess that’s why you’re here, Dr. Eisenberg.”

“Nick,” I corrected absently and brought a photograph closer to my face, lifting my glasses to bring it into sharper focus. “Who took the photographs?”

“I did.”

“And who actually found the bones? Because I’m sure as shit Eric didn’t.”

Brad mumbled something, and I glared at him until he relented. “I did, sir.”

“Nick,” I said again, slightly firmer. “Do you think this is a Velociraptor, Brad?”

“No, si—no, Nick,” he said. “I don’t.”

I beamed at him. “Where do you go to school?”

“UCLA.” His face told me I didn’t need to tell him I’d studied there too—he already knew. It was always nice to meet a fan.

“What year?”

“My first.”

“And a first-year undergrad can tell what this is, or more specifically, what it isn’t. So why the hell can’t Eric White?”

Brad coughed.

“Exactly,” I confirmed, my tone grim. I was about to sweep all the photographs back into the envelope, climb into my car, drive the three hours back to Calgary, and fly straight on out to London to go to the opening of my exhibition, when something caught my eye.

I picked up the photograph and took it to the window, letting the natural light show me what I’d possibly missed under the fluorescent.

“Where are the fossils being kept?” I asked Brad as he washed out my coffee mug.

“In storage,” he said. “There’s a veterinary office in town. We’re using some of their space.”

“A veterinary office,” I repeated, trying hard not to growl the words. I rolled my eyes instead. 

“Okay. Can I see them?”

“You’d have to clear that with Mr. White.”

“I bet I would,” I said. “Brad, what type of animal do you think this was?”

He blanched at the direct question and then straightened. “I think it was likely an Ornithopod, sir,” he said. I let the salutation go this time.

I nodded. “I think you’re right. If I was a betting man I’d say it was an Othnielosaurus.”
Brad smiled. “Me too.”

“What can you tell me about these marks?” I could have told him what they were, but I sensed a learning opportunity. And heck, the kid reminded me of myself when I was his age. I wanted to give him a chance.

He crossed the room and leaned in to look at the area I was interested in. He smelled clean, like soap, and bitter from the coffee. It was nice.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I think it’s because they’re so old.”

“Okay,” I said, and pointed to the bones again. “See the direction they’re going in? Like grooves. And these marks here.”

Brad frowned at the picture for a few moments. Then his eyes widened. “Are they bite marks?” he asked.

I nodded, pleased he’d caught on. “Yes. I think they are.”
“Wow,” he breathed.

“It’s not massively uncommon,” I said, “and it doesn’t detract from the value of the find. But bite marks can mean three things.” I ticked the points off on my fingers. “Either this animal was attacked by another of its kind in a battle for food or sex or territory, or it was killed and eaten by a predator, or it died of natural causes and was eaten by another animal.”

“Okay,” Brad said, nodding. I guessed this wasn’t new information to him.

“Which one do you think applies here?”

He looked at me blankly.

“It’s an Ornithopod,” I said. “An herbivore. As a broad generalization, herbivores fight less than carnivores, especially with each other. This doesn’t look like the sort of damage another Othnielosaurus would be able to inflict, so we’ll cross that option off.”

Brad nodded.

“This is where it gets tricky,” I admitted. “Especially without a complete skeleton. But from what I know about scavengers, they normally do more damage to the bones than this. Scavengers have teeth that can gnaw on the bones to get all the tasty sinew and tendons off, and these bones are generally well preserved. I don’t think the damage was inflicted postmortem.

“Which leaves one option.”

“It was attacked and eaten by a predator.”

“Yes,” I said.

“What sort of predator?”

I raised my eyebrows. I could go through another long reasoning process to get to my conclusion, or I could just tell him. “This sort of damage,” I said, “is characteristic of a raptor attack.”

About the Author:
Anna Martin is from a picturesque seaside village in the south west of England. After spending most of her childhood making up stories, she studied English Literature at university before attempting to turn her hand as a professional writer.

Apart from being physically dependent on her laptop, she is enthusiastic about writing and producing local grassroots theatre (especially at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where she can be found every summer), travelling, learning to play the ukulele, and Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk.

Anna claims her entire career is due to the love, support, pre-reading and creative ass-kicking provided by her closest friend Jennifer. Jennifer refuses to accept any responsibility for anything Anna has written.

All throughout January I’m hosting an EPIC GIVEAWAY for Jurassic Heart swag. It will contain a signed copy of Jurassic Heart, a copy of one of my favourite novels – Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton, and several other bits of dinosaur related goodies. To enter, simply send me a message through my website HERE with your name and email address. Please be aware that this is a giveaway for real-life stuff, so if you win, you’ll need to share your address for me to post it to you!

Monday, January 6, 2014

When Love Gets Hairy by Jacob Z. Flores

Dreamspinner Press
When Love Gets Hairy
Jacob Z. Flores

Provincetown: Book Three 

Why When Love Gets Hairy?

Hello, everybody! It’s me, Jacob Z. Flores, and I’m pleased as punch to be back here at Literary Nymphs. The nymphs here have always been great to me, and I truly do appreciate that. It’s one of the reasons I jump at the chance to come back whenever the invitation is extended.

So just why have I been invited back? Well, I’m glad you asked! I’m here today promoting my latest Dreamspinner release, When Love Gets Hairy. This is the third book of my Provincetown Series, but don’t worry: the books don’t have to be read in order. Believe me. I know how much of a turn off it can be to stumble across a new series only to find that you are three books behind. That’s why I wrote each book as a stand-alone. Readers can start with this book if they choose and then read the other books in whatever order they would like.

But enough about the series. Let’s talk specifically about When Love Gets Hairy and why I chose this title.

One of the obvious reasons for the title was that the story takes place during Bear Week in Provincetown. What can be hairier than a small New England town suddenly filled to capacity with hot, hairy man flesh? Not much in my book.

There is definitely a bevy of bears of all shapes and varieties in this book—from Jay the big guy with the heart of gold to Teddy, the pocket bear, who turns the life of Nino, the main character, upside down. The bears are everywhere, and the characters can’t walk two feet down Commercial Street without running into a wall of fur.

But the title references more than just the fuzzy loving that takes place during Bear Week on the tip of the Cape. Besides meaning bushy and unshaven, hairy also means difficult and tricky, and that’s the true reason why I chose the title.

Don’t worry: this book is angst-filled. Provincetown isn’t a place for anguish. It’s a place to have fun and be merry. To let your hair down and dive head first into the pleasures that abound. And those pleasures are everywhere!

No one knows that better than Nino Santos. He lives for the partying and tricking Provincetown provides. That’s why he moved here a few years ago. As a tourist town, new men arrive in P-town every week, and Nino enjoys bedding as many of them as possible. When he’s done with them, he sends them on their merry way, never to be seen again.

That’s Nino’s modus operandi. He doesn’t invest in romantic relationships, or any relationships really. In fact, he lives by six simple rules designed to keep his life as simple and happy as possible. They are:

1.  Don’t fall in love
2  .Don’t bottom
3  .Don’t let tricks spend the night
4  .Don’t exchange phone numbers; “it complicates things”
5  .Don’t repeat a fuck
6  .Don’t give a fuck

These rules have served Nino quite well for most of his adulthood, but when he meets Teddy, that’s when things get hairy. Yes, Teddy is a bear, and that’s part of the hairy reference. But Teddy challenges each and every one of the Six Rules of Nino’s Life.

That’s what makes life so hairy for Nino. He is being forced outside his comfort zone, and he feels emotions he has never felt in his life. For Nino, that’s extremely difficult. He’s unaccustomed with dealing with real emotion, and navigating that ocean proves to be the trickiest feat he’s ever taken on in his life.

Before I go, I want to thank everyone here at Literary Nymphs. I appreciate your continued love and hospitality. I also want to thank those of you who took the time to read this blog post. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed sharing it with all of you.

For those interested, I have included a blurb and excerpt below. Additionally, as part of my blog tour I’m hosting a giveaway.

The When Love Gets Hairy Giveaway Contest

All you have to do is leave a comment to this post, and your name is entered to win one of eight cool prizes, including books from my back list to gift cards from Amazon to some of my author swag.


As vain as he is beautiful, Nino Santos happily lives life waiting for the next ferry full of fairies to bring him new conquests. As long as they aren’t hirsute, he’s all in. So he's shocked to wake up after a beach party he cannot remember with a hairy naked man lying next to him.

Teddy Miller doesn’t remember the “Bear Week” party either, much less the Abercrombie & Fitch model wannabe next to him. Teddy doesn’t give two cents about appearances, but guys like Abercrombie don’t return the favor. That’s why he prefers men with extra fur and padding over carbon copy clones of perfection—a type of man Teddy is far too familiar with.

When Nino and Teddy glimpse each other the next morning, it’s loathing at first sight. Instead of exchanging phone numbers, they exchange insults and vow never to see each other again. In Provincetown, however, escaping a trick best forgotten isn’t easy. Mutual friends and chance circumstances keep Nino and Teddy in each other’s orbit. But are they fighting each other or the attraction growing between them? The answer lies amid Provincetown’s windswept dunes and the night neither of them can recall.


When Teddy suggested they grab something to eat, Nino surprised himself by agreeing. The yes had come out of his mouth before he had time to think. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to eat. He was hungry. He hadn’t had anything in his stomach since lunch with Jay at Bubala’s.
What was the problem, then?
The furry little bastard wasn’t as much of an asshole as he’d once thought. Teddy had even apologized. Even though he didn’t want to admit it, the apology meant a lot to him. People who’d been cruel to him in the past had never been sorry. Especially not his sisters.
So it wasn’t that he hated Teddy. At least not anymore.
He just didn’t like that he continued to do things he’d never done before. Eating dinner with a guy he’d just spent a couple of hours getting to know was entirely unlike him. It also seemed to break his sixth rule—don’t give a fuck.
If he truly didn’t give a fuck, he wouldn’t have shared his past or agreed to share a meal. He wouldn’t have divulged his problems with his modeling career or taken Teddy’s advice. All of that showed he apparently gave a fuck. That was very unnerving.
How was he supposed to protect himself if he actually cared?
“Oooh, let’s have Spiritus,” Teddy said from his right. “I’m craving some pizza.”
What had he been thinking? Of course, dinner with a bear meant eating carbs. He did not consume such useless calories. “Try again,” Nino said. “How about Jimmy’s HideAway? I can get a salad there.”
“A salad?” Teddy scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue. Apparently, consuming healthy food was both distasteful and unusual. What else could he expect from a bear?
“Yes, a salad,” he replied. “It’s healthy, and this late at night, it’s not as bad for your digestive system.”
Teddy gave him a raspberry. “Who cares about that? Haven’t you ever just been bad once?” Before he could reply, Teddy cut him off. “And I’m not talking about your sexual escapades, so don’t even start. I’m talking about throwing caution to the wind, and instead of eating right and counting calories, just eat something because it’s really, really, bad for you.”
“I wouldn’t look the way I do if I did that,” he announced. Teddy peered at him out of the corners of his eyes. He obviously was trying to determine if he was joking or not, so he added an eyebrow wiggle for Teddy’s benefit. He didn’t want Teddy to take his comment the wrong way. Oh God, now that sounded like he gave a fuck. Well, shit!
“Well, for that, Curly, I’m gonna buy you a slice of pizza, and you’re going to eat it.”
“No, I’m not,” he said with a shake of his head. “And don’t call me Curly.”
“Oh, yes you are,” Teddy sang as he grabbed Nino’s hand and tugged him toward Spiritus, which apparently had been mobbed by bears. The big guys were everywhere. Some sat on the curb out front with pizza dripping grease onto their paper plates. Others didn’t even bother with the plates. They folded the pizza long-ways and chomped down half the slice in one bite. He could hear their arteries clogging from here.
“You wait here,” Teddy said as he stood Nino by the tree to the left of the building. “I’m going to wade through the crowd and get us a couple of slices.”
“I’ll wait here,” he agreed. “But I won’t eat the pizza.”
“You’ll eat what I give you,” Teddy said, his words made even more suggestive by the sudden twinkle in his eyes. “And you’ll like it.”
The bears in their immediate vicinity echoed their appreciation of Teddy’s comment by growling. Ordinarily, their bearspeak irritated him. Tonight, though, he just laughed and shrugged at them.
“All right, boys,” Teddy told the bears sitting on the bench by the tree. “Watch Curly here. Make sure he doesn’t get away, because this bitch needs to eat.”
“We’ll watch him for you, daddy,” one of the younger bears replied. “You go get your pup some chow.”
His pup? When did he become Teddy’s pup? He opened his mouth to correct the man, but when Teddy nodded and told them thank you, he couldn’t speak. Did Teddy not hear what the man said? If he did, did he not care that these guys obviously thought they were together?
He couldn’t ask any of those questions, though, because by the time his ability to speak had returned, Teddy had disappeared into Spiritus.
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