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Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Butt Riders on the Range Anthology



Title: Butt Riders on the Range
Author:  Anthology
Publisher: Wilde City Press
Genre:  Gay Paranormal Erotica
Sub-Genre: Comedy, Cowboy/Western
RELEASE DATE: April 29, 2015 











BLURB:
Do you imagine blazing gun battles, bandits, and saloons with watered-down drinks when you think of cowboys and the West? We don’t. Our minds go right to horse shifters, bull shifters, were-leopards, urban wannabes, an interrupted journey along Route 66, a man of mystery named Dr. Feel-Good, and high noon at the edge of the galaxy! The fourth time’s the charm as the Butt-Thology authors saddle up, ride their men hard, and put ‘em away wet.
Butt Riders on the Range…the bulls aren’t the only ones being grabbed by the horns!

So Many Butts, So Little Time
by Kiernan Kelly

One night long ago in a land far, far away -- or it may have been last May in a Marriott hotel on the outskirts of Atlanta -- eight authors sat at a table surrounded by rapidly deflating ninja themed balloons, plastic katana blades, oddly penis-shaped nunchucks, and fistfuls of throwing-star erasers, and decided two books did not a series make.

We were at OutlantaCon, the official birthplace of the Butthology books, where we -- Kage Alan, T.c. Blue, Eden Winters, Ally Blue, Shae Connor, J.P. Barnaby, Jevocas Green, and myself -- had just finished celebrating the release of Butt Ninjas From Hell.

It was the second book we'd written in what we hoped would be a series. The first, Butt Pirates in Space, was science fiction, and had released May 2013. Butt Ninjas from Hell was paranormal-themed. Both, of course, had a healthy helping of humor thrown in with a side of hot gay sex.

We sat there staring at one another, wondering what to do next. As butt book writers, we needed to feed our addiction. We couldn't go too long with a fix. What to do, what to do?

The answer was obvious. Write more butts, of course.

 We decided to author two more anthologies for the following year. The first was a holiday fantasy issue titled "Butt Babes in Boyland," which released in time for the 2014 holidays, and the second, due out May 2015, we titled "Butt Riders on the Range."

It's a western-themed book, just in case you haven't guessed, or skipped the first four paragraphs of this blog because your boss/kids/significant other/grandmother kept wandering close enough to read the screen.

What all this goes to prove is simply that there is no genre so sacred we will not Butt-ify it. My story for this go-round is titled, "Squatting with Spurs On." It's a fantasy-western crossover involving time travel and ghosts.

Writing a western time-travel gay romance involving a ghost wasn't as difficult as you'd think. There was really only one thing that stymied me. It's the same thing that trips me up every time I write a historical set in the old west.

The thing is, I find it decidedly difficult to write a sex scene set in that time period, not because of featherbeds, or condoms made from some sort of sheep intestine, or even the fact that homosexual relations in the time period were often a hanging offense.

It's the lack of running water that throws me every damn time.

Picture this: Wyoming, 1880. There's a ranch nestled in a beautiful green valley somewhere in the shadow of the Grand Tetons. Cattle graze placidly on the pastureland, while cowboys in checkered shirts and beaver-fur hats gather around a campfire for a dinner of beans and a night of manly camaraderie and farting.

Two men, let's call them Zane and Louis, have remained alone back at the ranch house because I said so. There's a chill in the night air, prompting Zane to kindle a fire in the parlor's lovely fieldstone fireplace. He takes a seat on the floor, and stares at the flames because it's the late 1880's and Monday Night Football hasn't been invented yet.

Louis, meanwhile, busies himself in the kitchen. He returns and takes a seat on the floor next to Zane, handing over a mug of fresh-brewed coffee.

Zane sniffs, it, and raises an eyebrow, probably because Louis is nothing if not predictable.

More than he dislikes being cold, Louis really, really wants to get laid, and he knows the quickest way to get Zane naked is to pour one or seven shots of rotgut whiskey down Zane's throat.

Zane doesn't seem inclined to complain. He drinks the contents in one long, burning gulp, and holds the cup out to Louis with a questioning look in his eyes.

 Louis happily refills Zane's mug. One down, six to go. After the third refill, he no longer makes the pretense of adding coffee to the cup.

The fire, firmly established, crackles musically, and casts dancing shadows across their faces. It's getting very warm in the room. Too warm for a shirt. Too warm for boots. Or pants for that matter.

With less trouble than you might think, Louis convinces Zane that a dollop of lard smeared on his asshole would certainly cool down the rest of his body.

Having drunk seven or fifteen cups of Louis's "coffee," Zane thinks it's a fine idea. He manages to raise himself onto his elbows and knees to make the cooling process easier for Louis.

Louis, faced with Zane's bare butt and tight little hole, wasn't feeling too cool, himself. In fact, his body was burning hotter than the chili Cook dished up on the last cattle drive. He was almost surprised the lard didn't melt and sizzle when he slicked himself with it.

For his part, Zane was only slightly confused when he felt Louis's dick slide inside him. He realized that, instead of cooling him down, parts of him were getting warmer. And harder.

It didn't take long for both men to reach critical mass, each one howling as his orgasm ripped through him. In the process of coming, they made one helluva mess. Seems it'd been a while for both of them, and they'd been storing up their boy batter like Cook put up canned jars of homemade baked beans for winter. It coated their hands, Zane's back, both their dicks, Louis's stomach, the floor, and even dotted poor old Champ, Zane's one-eyed, three-legged hound, who'd had the misfortune to pick the wrong time to wander closer to the fire.

All of which brings me to my problem:

Somebody has to go pump some damn water so they can clean up.

It's not like Zane or Louis can run into the bathroom and rinse off. The "bathroom" is a wooden, coffin-sized shed set several yards behind the house, that's probably home to a family of rattlesnakes, several species of poisonous spiders, a stink too powerful even to contemplate, and has no freaking water anyway.

No, if they want to wash that spunk off before anyone comes back and finds them, well...white-handed, somebody needs to go prime the kitchen pump. Unless Louis had the forethought to pour some of the water he'd earlier pumped for coffee into a washbasin for later, that is, which, of course, he hadn't.

Sadly, Louis isn't that smart. Handsome, muscled, and extremely well endowed, but about as clever as a stump.

Anyway, I suppose they could simply wipe all that ejaculate off on a towel, or on Zane's shirt (although he hates when Louis does that - makes the shirt all stiff and scratchy), but they're still going to be freaking sticky, not to mention smell like a mattress from Miss Bluebell's Cathouse over in Jackson.

Do you see my problem?

The answer I came up with was to make my characters sixty-nine and swallow, or have sex out-of-doors, preferably near a stream or water trough, or make them smart enough to pump water ahead of time.

Still, it's not easy. So why do I did I agree to do it?

Mostly, because I truly believe that sometimes, as writers, we take ourselves too damn seriously. We need the chance to let loose, to lighten up, to stretch our creative muscles, and the Butthology books give me that opportunity. I know I can speak for the rest of our group when I say we enjoy writing these stories. They're freeing, and give us a chance to flex our writing muscles in a way our usual stories don't. They let ignore most of the rules published stories are usually held to, and fly free.

In other words, they let us laugh at ourselves.

And besides, really, are there ever enough butts in romance?

Nope. Didn't think so.


BIO:
Kiernan Kelly lives in the wilds of the alligator-infested U.S. Southeast, slathered in SPF 45, drinking colorful tropical, hi-octane concoctions served by thong-clad cabana boys.

All right, the truth is that she spends her time locked in the dark recesses of her office, writing gay erotic romance while chained to a temperamental laptop, drinking coffee, and dreaming of thong-clad cabana boys.

Sigh.


To date, Kiernan has thirteen novels, two YA novels under her Dakota Chase pseudonym, a plethora of shorter works in print and ebook, and still no cabana boy of her own, although her husband may beg to differ.

Book Links:
Wilde City Press:
http://www.wildecity.com/books/gay-erotica/butt-riders-on-the-range/#.VUF1i_F0w5s



GIVEAWAY DETAILS:
One ebook copy of any of the previous Butt-Thologies
Contest Begins: April 29, 2015
Contest Ends: May 10, 2015
Rafflecopter Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/655415848/ 
















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