Picked by the handsome (tall, dark and handsome mind you... if only he would model!) Is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Pointycat--you win a book luv.... and I'll give you final veto rights on the charity, okay?
As for Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome? 6'3", close cropped dark brown hair (nearly black), brown eyes, a sexy goatee... he he he, you all wish he'd picked you, admit it!!
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
To find linky-dinky goodness and the ease of having the whole hop at the tips of your fingers, take a trip (or a click) on over to the Hop's homepage... Right Here for the Hop Go on. Click it. You know you wanna...
Today is the first day of a ten day blog hop extravaganza dedicated to helping eradicate homophobia and transphobia. This is my little contribution... So, there should be prizes in a hop, right? Okay. So in honor of the hop, my winner gets to pick which charity (and it has to be one serving the LGBT community) they want me to donate 10% of my earnings for the last three quarters of 2013 to. I'll send statements, receipts from the charity of their choice... and in addition, they get a book of their choice from my backlist.
What about entering to win the prize? Um, easy peasy. Just leave a comment here on the blog.
Notification? Please check back on the blog. I'll announce the winner here on the 28th of this month.
What about entering to win the prize? Um, easy peasy. Just leave a comment here on the blog.
Notification? Please check back on the blog. I'll announce the winner here on the 28th of this month.
Also, while you are here, be sure to take a peek over here: International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia (May 17th) You can find there link right here: http://dayagainsthomophobia.org
All right, then without further ado, here's my little offering. :) Enjoy.
Jules came on Tuesdays without fail. At precisely four o’clock in the afternoon, he arrived to read to William from books they discussed with one another back when William could still talk. Though the last stroke changed William’s ability to converse coherently, they both still treasured their time together with one another and their favorite paper friends. So now, Jules read, and William listened with varying degrees of patience tempered only by his delight in watching Jules move lightly around his room like an energetic brown and gold wagtail bird. When leaning forward in his seat as though John Donne’s words held the elixir of life and he could breathe health back into William simply by shaping the words well enough, Jules was maddening. He made something sly and devious in William want to howl and yip at the indignity of his disobedient body.
Jules’s stylishly cut brown hair flopped over his forehead each time he tossed his head restively. The artfully placed streaks of light blond suited him very well. William exhaled as he wished, yet again, he could tell Jules how much the new splashes of color suited him. A mass of tangled feelings flooded up through William’s guts with the do or die insistence of earthworms pushing up through soil growing rapidly too wet for comfort only to lose their tiny lives to the puddles of a rainy day. As always, when he finally settled Jules sat parallel to the bed, in a battered old armchair whose color was so dimed with age and use it might well have been brown or green or lemon yellow—there was no telling now. He sat, relaxed as if in his own ruthlessly immaculate kitchen—and William knew full well how Jules kept his kitchen from stories told and years’ worth of pictures shared.
Right now, you’re shaking your head and wondering what that snippet of a story has to do with hopping against homophobia or transphobia. It’s pretty a simple answer. Jules is trans*. William is gay.
Yeah, but those things aren’t in the snip I shared are they?
Nope. They aren’t. In fact the general reader, the one that didn’t travel around this hop checking out the posts isn’t going to be aware that Jules is trans* until after the second book in the series comes out. And in the first book, especially in the early section, they’ll be confronted with William’s struggles with life or death health issues—and no, he does not have HIV—long before any issues directly related to his sexuality play a major role in his story.
Why you ask?
Life happens that way. You meet people every day, and most of the time you don’t get a big slice of their life story right off the bat. Every now and again you might, especially if the stranger on the train you’re talking to is me, but most of the time you get tiny slivers of insight. Getting to know new people takes time, and by the time you find out they’re trans* or gay or into making really strange and somewhat disturbing clay art you’ve had time to know a lot about the person they are. You found out something about their sexuality, or an odd-ball hobby where they spend hours sculpting tiny peapods devouring a person at a vaguely Thanksgiving holiday style event… you didn’t however, just stumble over evidence that they systematically kidnap young children to torture and kill. You didn’t get socked with them actually having dozens of aliases they use to defraud vulnerable elderly people, leaving them destitute. You especially didn’t discover that they are the next infamous serial killer of people EXACTLY like you. So I’m still baffled about the fear. Any decision you make at that point about how you are going to view them is just that, a decision. There’s a lot of reliable information available these days, to anyone who cares to take the time to look for it, about what being homosexual or transgender really is or isn’t.
Huh. I don’t think so. More like an asp you’re deliberately snuggling with. I’d rethink that if I were you, hon. Look what happened to Cleopatra.
Okie Dokie. Now I'm gonna try and get all fancy schmanzty and put in a link to all the other hoppers. *cross your crossables*
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Hello, babies, and welcome back to the cave! Today, I've got a special guests stopping by, and I'd like for you to give Ciaran and Sanyi a warm welcome!
Thank you, Cherie, for having me as your guest today. I'm very excited to be here to tell you about my newest gay erotic paranormal fantasy, In Blue Poppy Fields. The book will please not only all fans of Belial, the Prince of Trickery, the Lord of Lust and the Antilight... aka Guardian Demon, but all readers who love vampires.
Though... maybe not all as vampire stories differ greatly. Some have gloomy, horror atmosphere, some are full of blood and violence, still others brim with dark sensuality. How should you know ours would be to your liking? Apart from reading a sample chapter on Amazon or Smashwords to get a feel of the tale, you can meet the men from our world in a series of interviews given as a part of In Blue Poppy Fields release tour. Let's first take a look at the book and then we can enjoy the interview with Sanyi.
In Blue Poppy Fields blurb: A victim to another man's cruelty, talented and beautiful theater actor Adhemar Lebeau learned not to trust and not to love anybody but himself. Falsely accused of his master's murder, he has to accept assistance of mysterious Count Sanyi Arany to later discover his savior is a vampire. Forced both by a fatal illness and aftershocks of torture experienced during his unjust imprisonment, Adhemar agrees to the only possible cure. Rebirth.
Healed in body but not in mind, he guards his independence, free will and heart. He is not able to give love, only the fulfillment of lust. Yet, satiation of sensuous longing is not enough for his Sire and he knows it. When an eerie malady strikes and seems to deplete Sanyi's life energy for unknown reasons, Adhemar understands his fears and agrees to keep a street boy, Reyach, as a pet for both of them in hope it will soothe the unspoken worries.
Out of necessity he finds himself in the role of the only hunter in their company, and out of attachment he accepts the responsibility readily. Indulgence in blood and carnal pleasures fill his nights and vampiric powers give him the feeling of safety. Until the evening when he carelessly falls prey to High Demon Belial's plays that quickly turn into more than either of them has bargained for.
In spite of a hard start, Adhemar feels burning urge deep in his heart and no matter how much he denies it, the cause of the strange sensation is a budding seed of affection brought to life by the insufferable demon. But letting Adhemar learn to love somebody other than him is not what seemingly innocent Reyach plans.
Interviews with vampires have something in common. Darkened rooms, I grumble inwardly since I've just managed to trip over Piskot's toy as I make my way toward the resting area where Sanyi is sprawling on the sofa. Piskot is one of my three cats and the darling of most of my men. Yeah, I hear you: most men don't like cats. Well, in my house we do and she's just too adorable to be ignored. Now she is fast asleep, unlike me and the children of the night. And unlike them, in dark I do not see the toys she has carelessly left behind.
But I soon stop my inner demurs against darkness. There just isn't anything that would make me flip the light switch on now. It isn't Sanyi's fault that he feels tired. Nor is he responsible for the fact that even candle light hurts his eyes these nights. We will let just the moonlight dance on his high leather boots and velvet pants while the backrest of the sofa will shield his upper body and face from even those curious, soft rays.
I suspect the glass of merlot he is for sure holding in his hand is more or less for decoration. For a play of his long, elegant fingers. It will remain almost as full as it is now once our talk is over. But we will not speak of that either.
I've finally got across the room but still before I sink into my armchair, I bid my greetings: “Good night, Sanyi,” and his velvety voice answers with ever so present taint of tiredness: “Good night, Ciaran.”
“Are you comfortable or shall I fetch you something?” I offer and he responds just with a touch of amusement in his words: “You don't have to fret about me. Vincent manages that well on his own. He has made sure I'd be as ready as possible for our talk. Besides what good would it bring to let you stumble in the shadows? It wouldn't be to my liking if you broke anything by accident.”
“Like my wrist you mean,” I offer a joke and he chuckles shortly. “Yes, that would be most inconvenient injury conceivable for our bard,” he agrees and I shake my head. Nobles tend to be so practical at times. But a smile is curling my lips as I know that he genuinely wouldn't want to see any part of my body broken and that's reassuring.
“Well, if you have everything you need, then shall we start?” I ask. “Certes!” he confirms and I venture ahead with the first question. “What is your author like?” I've seriously considered to remove this one from the list but since they all have disagreed, it stays...
Sanyi fortunately isn't into grilling me in theatrical silence and responds almost immediately: “Patient and passionate.”
His words allow me to sag in the armchair in content but still I wonder: “How does that go together, Sanyi?”
He must have been thinking about the questions and his answers a lot in advance as he offers readily: “You let us tell our stories in our own pace. You don't rush us anywhere and into anything. You let our thoughts meander if we feel like that, and gallop like runaway horses at other times. You are here every time we want to talk. So, you are patient. And then you tell our story with passion. You do not let others to impose rules on our tale, you see?”
“My thanks, Sanyi,” I breathe. Damn it, he made my eyes smart.
He gives me time to collect myself and changes the topic on his own: “I believe the next question was about our world.” I only nod. He can see that, I know.
Tension creeps into his voice as his thoughts enter the realm of uneasy memories: “I once thought our world was full of restraints. Some would believe that a Count doesn't experience any limitations. In reality I felt my life was defined the day I was born. The pride of the House of Arany couldn't fail expectations imposed by the family, the court, the Church. Somehow, I managed to disappoint my father anyway and almost lost my life in the process.” A shrug follows as if he wants to let that time slide off his mind like a droplet of water off a pebble. “But then... I learned our world is very much as we allow it to be. Vincent opened my eyes and taught me to accept who I was. Who I still am. I owe him and Adhemar a lot.”
He relaxes again and I lean forward to coax him to continue talking. “What do you want the readers to know about you?” It doesn't seem he has an answer ready for this one and for a moment he hesitates. But only for a moment. “That I can be weary but still know how to use my fangs, should anybody want to hurt my companions.”
“I wouldn't advise anybody to try the sharpness of your fangs,” I confirm and know that he is pleased. Though he won't say so. “What is the one thing you are proud of?” I continue with the next question, hoping that it will please him too.
“Pride is a strange emotion. Sometimes it runs high and sometimes it just falls silent. Right now it seems I have depleted its reserves.” Is there a smirk in his voice? I don't know. Maybe a mangled one. Unsure what to say I let him tell me more if he wishes so, or to skip the question should that be his decision. After a second he muses aloud: “But if I were to choose one thing, it would be Adhemar's Rebirth.”
“I think that on that you can be truly proud, Sanyi. You gave him new life,” I whisper and he seems to be satisfied. Somewhere in the darkness his hand moves and raises the glass to his lips. I know for his fangs clink against it quietly.
Such sounds don't scare me though most mortals should feel frightened when any sound produced by a vampire's fangs reaches their ears. But being a bard has its privileges. I wait until he takes a sip of his drink and only then I ask: “What would you never share?”
He chuckles shortly and readily explains the reason for his amusement: “I don't really think there is such a thing, Ciaran. In our company we share... as it appears everything.”
True enough. I snicker too and continue with an easy one: “What is your most intense pleasurable memory?”
Right now he doesn't even sound so exhausted when he responds: “The first lovemaking. Then I felt like a king.”
I'd like to dwell on the topic for a while but Sanyi isn't an exhibitionist and his mind is already moving ahead in our talk. Like with Adhemar I don't really want to ask the next question but both vampires clearly decided not to skip anything. “The answer to the unspoken one is: the night of my own Rebirth. That I would love to forget,” he delivers me from my reluctance and I quickly offer something more positive. “Who or what is the greatest love of your life?”
“I thought once I was in love. Years ago. But I am blessed with loyal friends. Does that count?” he asks. Of course it counts and I nod firmly. “Then Vincent and Adhemar. In no particular order.”
True, he speaks about friends but it doesn't mean he doesn't have sensual experiences. I nudge him gently: “Loyal companions they are. People will read your and their story in the book. But perhaps you could still tell the readers about your best ever kiss.”
“Aren't the first kisses always the best?” he answers my question with a question of his own and I don't force him to elaborate further if he is not in the mood. I know which kiss he means anyway. Take a peek in our story, we can wait.
But they couldn't end every talk like this. Leaving him stumbling in the darkness, unsure of himself or their connection. If there ever had been any... Without thinking any further, Sanyi leaped off the statue too and quickly caught up with his desire. Grabbing his arm, stopping him in mid-step, he gave a bitter: “So, you are...”
Adhemar turned toward him and didn't shake his hand off. He just made a step back to lean against the chimney. The darned thing seemed to be always there. And had it not been there, they wouldn't have been having this painful conversation now. Sanyi frowned, wishing to throttle the mocking piece of architecture if he at all could. “I don't wish to speak about it,” Adhemar whispered, suddenly pulling him closer.
“But...,” he resisted and didn't even know why. He craved to be close to his favorite. It was just that he needed...
“What did I say?” A soft murmur but the touch of Adhemar's cold hand was insistent. It wouldn't allow him not to obey its call. Sanyi's knees buckled but somehow he managed not to let it be seen. Yet felt it all the same. The roof quaked. It did. And he was trapped and shaking too. “You...,” he gave and wasn't able to finish his line. His mouth wanted...
“Come here.” An order as silent as the soft mist undulating around them. And as loud as heavenly choirs.
“You...” His mouth wanted...
A pull. So powerful that he landed in Adhemar's arms with a yelp of surprise. “Will you ever stop talking, Maker mine?” the words caressed his pouts and he couldn't, couldn't, couldn't breathe. Leaning against his companion, he tried to retort: “May-,” but their lips crushed together before he finished the word.
And then the world melted in red fog of lust, lust, lust. It quivered, shuddered, quaked and Sanyi didn't mind. Feeling the hardness of Adhemar's body against his own, he threw the gates to his soul open and let his assaulter claim his mouth in a hungry, glorious dance. Being kissed and kissing back, he finally felt... truly alive. Life raced through him in inexorable waves, starting in his tongue and rolling, rolling, rolling through all his nerves. Never to be stopped. Drowning in its magnificence, with his eyes closed to keep everything about this unseen moment in his heart, he moaned and buried his hands in silken, damp strands of Adhemar's hair. And wished to stay like this, stay like this, stay... like this. Forever.
His mind has meantime wandered out of the room. Maybe back on the roof of the theater in Cibinium, what do I know? And so I swallow the last question: “Where canthe readers meet you again?” but a silken voice answers it anyway. “In Blue Poppy Fields,” Adhemar interrupts the silence from the door. He means the newest book but isn't really interested to talk about it right now. Apart from the chill of the early spring night all I can feel from him are concerns for his Maker. He has just returned home from a hunt and clearly doesn't think I should disturb his Sire any longer.
He glides over, easily avoiding all Piskot's little traps and leans to Sanyi with a soft offer: “You're hungry. Time for taking.” Without further ado he sits down close to him to feed him and the invitation given by his head tilted to a side is as wordless as it is clear.
He is right, it's time for taking. Like every night and I excuse myself from the room quietly. They don't need me around right now, already lost in the first lines of their silent, private, red conversation.
*Did the little peek into our world capture your attention? In Blue Poppy Fields is currently available at Amazon and Smashwords.
It can be read without being familiar with other books in the Guardian Demon Series but you now have an opportunity to win one of the twelve copies of Trails of Love I Crawl Part 1 that opens the beguiling world of this series. Participation is easy enough for anybody over the age of eighteen. The more you help others find me and Guardian Demon Series books, the more chances to win you will have.
What can you do?
· Recommend my books in reader discussions on Goodreads, Shelfari or other platforms you are active at
· Follow my blog, like my FB page, follow me on Twitter
· Rate my books on Goodreads
· Review my books on Amazon, Smashwords, B&N or Goodreads
· Feature my books and your reviews of them on your blog if you have one
· Tell your friends about Guardian Demon Series
· Tweet about In Blue Poppy Fields, FB links to release tour articles, reblog them, Pinterest them, Stumble upon them… whichever platform you fancy is welcome
My giveaway form will give you more suggestions. Winners will be announced on my blog on the 11th of April. ~~Ciaran's Cool Blog~~
I hope to see your entry in the giveaway and thank you for your help in spreading the word of mouth about Guardian Demon Series.
With this I hand over Cherie's blog back to her. It has been my pleasure to be your guest, Cherie. Thank you for having me over today.
I confess I'm not totally happy that Ciaran is leaving. *pouts* but you, dear babies, don't despair... there's lots of Ciaran and Sayni to go around, especially if you look toward the bottom of the page (scroll way, way down) and enter in the contest to win Trails of Love I Crawl part one. Good Luck!
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Half an hour later the same faintly bitter silence still filled the car. Michael was fairly certain there must be an elephant sitting on his chest. He couldn’t get a full breath, and every time he thought about the stupid thing he’d said, he wanted to kick his own ass. If he’d been this stupid in the desert none of them would have come back, not even with the amazing shit Sergeant Soto had pulled out of nowhere more than once to save them all. Michael would swear more that more than once there’d been no warning, no way of knowing that shit was about to go sideways and still the Sergeant had kept everyone in the squad alive long enough to make it back. Well, at least to make it back in body. Michael wasn’t sure that Dieterman had actually made it all the way back from the sands. They’d kept him from being blown to hell and gone the day he probably was supposed to die, but something had broken in Raymond Dieterman that day. Michael was glad that he was going to be getting some help. He seriously wasn’t sure how the guy had hung on as long as he had.
Andy turned the Nova into his driveway, and started to reach for the ignition to shut the car off. Michael caught his writs in a loose grip. Crap, he’d forgotten to tell Andy about the garage door opener.
“I put an automatic opener in for you. So you wouldn’t have to leave your car out in the snow all the time.”
Andy’s mouth pinched into an even thinner line, but then he just shook his head, a reluctant seeming smile finally curving the sulky corners of his mouth upward. He turned and leaned back against the driver’s side door.
“And just when did you break and enter my home to put this automatic garage door opener in?”
Michael just laughed.
“Are you gonna press charges, babe?”
“What the hell would I say, Michael? Help, my stalker is fixing up my house and rebuilding my car from the ground up?”
Michael took his turn to blush.
“Ah, yeah. Something like that, I guess.”
Andy quirked a sleek blond brow at him.
“Right. And that would fly so well in the ever progressive courts of greater Syracuse… I’d be lucky if they didn’t arrest me for wasting their time.