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 

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.

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.


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:

One ebook copy of any of the previous Butt-Thologies
Contest Begins: April 29, 2015
Contest Ends: May 10, 2015
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Monday, April 27, 2015

Making Men by Sam Standish

Title: Making Men
Author: Sam Standish
Publisher: Wilde City Press
Genre: Erotica
Release Date: ebook, March 25; paperback right about now

Do you write in more than one genre?
Prior to Making Men I published so-called literary fiction, under another name. Presumably I will again. While I can spin endless erotic scenarios in my head, I think that thematically they are all variations on what I have already explored and exhausted in Making Men. The next step beyond Making Men might involve sex, but it would not be about skin-on-skin action.

What if any, is the hardest part of writing for you?
The aloneness. Even after you publish.

What inspired the story?
I just wanted erotica with lots of action, where the brevity and frankness of the leads-ups was part of the sexiness. I like guys to meet and get busy! But get busy doing what, exactly? I had several erotic scenarios in my head, and I found they had common threads. All involved men seeking something beyond normal experience, men who were curious, courageous and devoted. These are the men with whom I cast Making Men.

What are your 2 favorite careers?
Writer and editor, the two careers I have. If I had to pick two fantasy careers, it would be actor and physician. I would love to have the competencies involved in each.

What are some of your other favorite activities?
Other than making art, consuming art. After those two, who has time for anything else?

What is the hardest thing you ever had to do?
Grow up gay. But at the time I didn’t know that that’s what I was doing. It was that ignorance that made it so hard. I thought I was uniquely, unforgivably wrong and would never be right. Problem is, the feeling keeps surfacing, decades later, less in relation to sex per see and more in relation to other areas of life. For example, money can get all fucked up when you’re gay.

Favorite music, song or band?
Favorite band: The Who. More recent: Fiery Furnaces. Favorite solo artist: too many to choose one, but maybe I can boil it down to David Bowie for pop/rock, Mitsuko Uchida for classical, and Andrew Hill and Etta James for jazz. Favorite musical genre: totally impossible. Favorite song, Ellington’s and Strayhorn’s “Take the A Train.”
Are you usually late, early or right on time?
Early or right on time. I have huge anxiety about being late, going back to childhood.

Are you happy with your life for the most part right now?
No. I can’t sleep. I get maybe four hours a night. The rest of the time I lie awake worrying about the future and wondering why I bother to write.

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

What do you think would be the hardest venture for you to give up on?
 Writing my next book.

Sam Standish lives on the edge of a dark forest by a mighty river.
Making Men is his first novel.

Three passionate men. Tony and Kevin are older and have learned to give, body and soul, till it hurts. Into their lives comes another young man, wanting desperately to give and to take all he can. Together these three will reach heights they never imagined. And each will discover for himself where he has to go next. This is a tale of devotion and transcendence. A tale of young male bodies. A tale unlike any other you have ever read.

In the dark, the boy settled naked against his uncle. Their cocks had somewhat softened, but their hearts were full. “Tell me about Kevin,” the boy said.

“Couple of years ago, I was hangin’ at a frat party,” Tony said. “I’d taken care of some guys upstairs. You just went down the hall and jumped in on any action you liked. In one room, these guys were seeing who could shoot farthest. I’d been working my ass off, so I hadn’t shot in a while. I went in and stripped down. They had a table with a black cloth so you could measure how far each guy’s jism went. Mine went, like, six feet, and there was a lot. 

Way more than the rest. Inseminated the loser. Then we stood him in the corner and paddled him.” Tony felt his nephew’s body tense. “Finally, I put on my jeans and came down. I was still hard and leaking, looking for a beer.

“I saw this guy standing by himself. He looked tough but like he knew something. Goofy grin, but real physical, like, thrilled by having a body. Eager to use it. I figured he’d done tons of guys. Looked like he wanted to be naked, right there. He kind of was. Like an animal.

 He didn’t really wear his clothes. He just happened to have ’em on for the moment ’cause it was decent. You knew he didn’t meet a lotta guys he could ride all the way with. I sure as hell wanted to ride with him. He shot me a look, and I could see in his eyes and in this little smile he made that he was smart, too.” Tony felt the boy’s body become suddenly still.

“So I go over. His name’s Kevin. Been on his own a while, into drugs but cleaned up. He had these clear blue eyes—you’ll see—like, in spite of everything, what was deep down in them hadn’t been touched. He told me he came here on a scholarship, like I figured. My dick gets so hard for smart guys. Not guys who let you know how much they know. That ain’t a stud. Really sexy guys, they’re smart and they make you smart, too.

 You talk, and you find yourself inside the mansion that’s their brain. And it’s your brain, too. They see how you’re smart, and they invite you to play a game you can win. Smart, kind, and manly sorta go together.

 Grown up. Humane, that’s the word. Plus, jeez, you knew from his energy and his love of his body—how he breathed and how he smiled—that this guy loved double-timing all night. I wanted to get inside him.

“Now, smart’s great, but you’ve got to reveal yourself to the other guy. So after a while I told him how at the time I wasn’t feeling too inspired. I did my work, but I wasn’t focused. He says, ‘You need discipline.’ I said yeah, I had a schedule, a study pal, whatever. He shakes his head. He’s not impressed. My soul takes this awful plunge. I’d never have him. Meanwhile he’s saying, ‘No, man. I mean discipline...”  

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Monday, April 13, 2015

Meet: RP Andrews, erotic gay male fiction author

Meet: RP Andrews, erotic gay male fiction author

What are your 2 favorite careers?
I spent most of my professional career in New York as a healthcare public relations executive, and while I was good at it and successful, I hated dealing with the childish, boorish egos of some of the most educated people in our society. Then I semi-retired in 2002 to Fort Lauderdale and was able to line up adjunct professor positions at two universities teaching college writing. I loved the exposure to, and interaction with young people. It also gave me the unique opportunity to share some of my practical wisdom in dealing with, and surviving in the business world, besides teaching them how to communicate.
But I have to confess my most fun job was being a male escort “rent boy” for a month at an age when most men are content with their TV remotes in their lap. I rationalized I was doing it to get an idea how hustlers thought for my next book at the time, a m/m erotic romantic thriller, “Not in it For the Love.” But I have to say I also did for kicks and actually had some customers, not all dogs either, but a few good looking business men in town for the night who didn’t want to waste time looking for fun. What’s the turn-on? Somebody wants you bad enough he’ll PAY for you.
I can say I am now retired from all three of my “professions.”

What are some of your other favorite activities?
The gym, six days a week, to keep my shit together, the beach (I also have a screened-in, heated pool in my backyard), blogging about gay culture, its triumphs and its stupidities, writing fiction where you create your own world, and, hey, sex. I ain’t dead yet. They say write about what you know and all my books and characters are based on my experiences, not fantasy.

What is the hardest thing you ever had to do?

Watching my dogs die. I have six buried up at my summer home in rural PA and another three in urns in my living room on the oak sideboard I inherited from my grandmother. As many times as it happens, when you lose one it’s always like your first time. Total, unconditional love – that’s what my current trio, two doxies and a terrier-mix I got at a no-kill shelter give to me every day. Can you say that about people?

Favorite music, song or band
I’m a Baby Boomer so, hands down, classic Motown, especially Marvin Gaye and Tammy Terrell. I can still remember when I heard Tami had collapsed in Marvin’s arms right on stage at a concert; she died soon after of a brain tumor. I recently caught the Broadway show, “Motown the Musical” when it was on tour here in Lauderdale – loved it.
When I write, I play classical music in the background. They say, it’s good for getting the creative juices flowing, and actually a stirring symphony really gets my motor running when I’m writing a steamy, m/m sex scene.

Are you usually late, early or right on time?

Early, maybe because I’m a Type A, though I’ve tried to de-Type A myself since I retired. It dates from my school days – I was on the Dean’s list every semester of my undergraduate and graduate work – and certainly it helped me when I worked in PR, even teaching. Pre-planning and being ahead of everyone else is critical for survival in the real world.

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

Absolutely! I’ve had two successful professional careers, PR and teaching, am financially comfortable, have my health, have a long time partner who I fight with every day, achieved my lifelong wet dream of becoming a published author, am still sexual desirable, and live in the closest thing to paradise in the continental United States - South Florida. So what’s not to like?

I remember a few years ago at a reunion back in New York of my old hospital cronies, I said to the Director of Rehab, “You know, I’ve done just about everything I wanted to do, so if I died tomorrow, it would be with a smile on my face.” P.S.: I’m still here.

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

Well, I did most of my traveling – Western Europe, Eastern Europe, the Middle East and   Latin America for all the archeological stuff, plus Australia, and much of the states – when I was young and security was a kiss on the wrist and traveling was cheap. (I took a full two week country-wide tour of Italy in the seventies for six hundred dollars!)

But if there was any place I’d like to go back to, it would Italy for its diversity of culture - every city is unique – and Australia for a lifestyle much like ours here in South Florida and for its hot looking guys that keep hitting up on the phone apps. (Is it true distance makes the heart grow fonder?)

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

Stop writing or pursuing a book I believed in but I felt might not be popular with the public or the industry. But if you’re truly a writer, you write for you, maybe for the money if you need to make a living which is not my case, but definitely for yourself, not for people to adore you or impress a publisher or critic.

His latest works of serious gay fiction include:
The Czar of Wilton Drive
Author: RP Andrews
Genre: Gay fiction

The Czar of Wilton Drive, is the story of Jonathan Antonucci, a 21 year old, barely-out-the-closet gay man from suburban New York who overnight finds himself a multi-millionaire, thanks to a bequest by his late gay great uncle. Uncle Charlie has unexpectedly died of a heart attack, leaving him the sole owner of several of the most successful bars in Wilton Manors, Fort Lauderdale’s gay ghetto, making Jonathan the Czar of Wilton Drive.
Flying down to Lauderdale to claim his bequest, Jon encounters Uncle Charlie’s dubious friends and business associates, and is immediately submerged in Lauderdale’s scene of unbridled sex and heavy drugs. He also discovers his great uncle’s memoirs which reveal truths not only about Jon’s own past but also what may have really happened to his uncle. 

Not In it For The Love, set at the turn of the new millennium. Josh, a young street-smart Florida drifter is snatched from his dead-end existence as a male hustler in a cheap Key Largo motel by Bishop, a Wall Street power broker who sets him up as his trophy boy in Manhattan society.
There, Josh, after leading a promiscuous lifestyle within New York City’s gay sub-culture, meets Hylan, a young, bi-racial, down-on-his luck, wheelchair-bound musician who awakens in Josh what love can be between two men. But their chance at happiness and the lives of those around them are forever changed by 9/11.

Buy Guys, RP Andrews’ newest novella scheduled for release late spring, 2015, is the story of Blaze and Pete, two young, gay handsome drifters with nothing, and nothing to lose. Blaze convinces Pete, who is falling in love with him, to leave dreary New Jersey and lead free and easy lives as male prostitutes in sunny Fort Lauderdale. Blaze, however, soon pulls Pete into a much larger, more dangerous scheme, a scheme that eventually threatens to destroy them both.

RP Andrews’ daily social commentary blog on gay life in America has been running since 2010 at, and a second edition collection of these commentaries is available as an e-book on

Confessions of a Str8Gay Man is RP Andrews’ unvarnished, unorthodox views of Modern Gay America which are often counter to today’s political correct gay media. In addition, there is Furry Man’s Journal, his erotic memoirs as a hirsute gay man as told through his experiences with the dozen iconic men in his life

RP Andrews spent most of his life in New York City as a public relations executive before relocating to Fort Lauderdale in 2002, where he enjoyed a brief, second career teaching writing at a local university.

All his works of erotic gay fiction and non-fiction are available on and Barnes and Noble; and other select publishers’ sites.

His first work of erotic gay fiction, a collection of edgy short stories called Basic Butch, was originally published by San Francisco-based GLBT Publishers in 2008. Basic Butch features characters who go down life paths that, in the end, they wish they had never explored.


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