Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Growing His Dream - Andrew grey


I get notes all the time from readers who love the Farm series.  And while that series is complete, I loved writing rural characters and setting, so I started a new rural series, based on a dairy farm.  The first story was Planting his Dream and the second, releasing June 9 is Growing His Dream.  I used some of my childhood memories in these stories and I hope you enjoy them!


Love can grow in even the harshest conditions.

Life has been a struggle for Lachlan Buttar ever since his mother passed away and left him unprepared to take care of himself. He’s gone from homeless to staying with a local minister, but it soon becomes clear he will be better off, and safer, on his own. Fortunately Foster and Javi agree to take Lachlan in and offer him a real home on their dairy farm.

It’s there that Lachlan meets another of the workers, local farmer Abe Armitage. Though the attraction between them is instant, Abe refuses to act on it until Lachlan returns his interest. By then, strong feelings have taken root, and a passionate romance quickly blossoms. But both men carry baggage that could crush any chance of happiness together, particularly since Lachlan witnessed a crime, and there are those who will do anything to make sure he cannot reveal what he’s seen.

Purchase an advance copy:  https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/growing-his-dream-by-andrew-grey-8558-b

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Excerpt Day with BA, Julia, Kiernan and Sean


It's excerpt day today - here is an excerpt from each of us.

What the Cat Dragged In 



A Sanctuary Novel
Don’t people know that cats and dogs don’t mix?
Connor Ragbone finds things. Sometimes it’s gold, sometimes jewels, sometimes people. Set in his hippie ways, he never thought he’d find a pack, but with Sam and Gus and their goofy shifter family, he fits right in. Then he finds Brock.
Shifter Brock Herman is undercover alone, working to break up a poaching ring. The last thing he needs is for Connor to wreck his sting. And now the crazy bobcat just won’t go away!
The poachers lead Brock and Connor on a merry chase all over Western Colorado, looking for shifter bears, but it’s a lost pup who brings them back to Nevada and the pack Sam and Gus are building. That’s when Brock has to decide whether he still travels alone or if Connor and his crazy family are where his heart belongs.
This follow-up to Just Like Cats and Dogs is a feel-good shifter romance novel where cats and dogs prove they can be way more than the enemies nature has made them.


Brock sat in the low crotch of a tree, his night vision sharp enough to see and photograph what Joe was up to.
Supposedly bears had a hundred times the sense of smell that a wolf like him had. If that was true, no bear would ever be caught in one of Joe’s traps. The guy smelled like beer, BO, and piss. He was reckless, arrogant, and pretty stupid.
Still, the bastard was making money, so something had to be going his way, right? Brock was sound asleep in his little tent, as far as Joe was concerned, though, so he could keep an eye out, make sure no bears got trapped.
It was a guaranteed trip, supposedly, so Brock worried. What did this bastard have up his sleeve?
Brock started when something utterly unexpected caught his eye. What in Sam hell was that?
He blinked. There was a bizarre, kinda Rasta hippie-looking guy standing at the edge of the trees. Stocky but short. Long dreadlocks. He had a pair of binocs, and he was watching Joe.
Okay, this was problematic. Had Tom hired two investigators? Surely not. Brock was damned good at what he did, and he had a solid reputation for results. He slithered down out of the tree and circled the clearing, staying just inside the tree line.
He headed toward the guy, trying hard to not make a sound, his nose working overtime to pick up the man’s scent.
Brock frowned. Shifter? Really? What the ever-loving fuck? Thankfully, he was downwind.
Tom had to have hired backup. Had to have. Still, Brock worked solo. He didn’t need some silly interloper messing up his job….
Wait.
Where the fuck did the guy go?
Brock turned in a full circle, opening up his wolf senses to find the guy. Shit and Shinola.
He was not insane. He knew this. So if Shifter Braids disappeared, then he either was fast or….
He lifted his chin, coming eye to eye with a smiling face halfway up the tree. The guy waved, mouthed, “Howdy.”
Are you shitting me? Brock stared, then motioned. He hoped the “get your ass down here” was plain.
To his utter shock, the guy shook his head, pointing deeper into the woods. Oh no. This was his job. He was not leaving it to some… amateur. Look at that hair. No one who was serious about poachers looked like that.
No one who was serious, full stop, looked like that.
Honestly, it was like a Forest Hippie Fairy Godfather. All the little fucker needed was a wand to wave to make the bad guys magically disappear.
Brock jerked his head toward the forest, then pointed to his chest and the other guy’s. Time for a confab.

He’d be goddamned if the bastard didn’t blow him a kiss.

***


From Riding the Circuit by Julia Talbot
Out June 7 2017 from Dreamspinner Press

Series: Riding Cowboy Flats Book 3

Blurb
Rodeo cowboy Frost Barton spends most of his time on tour, and that’s the way he likes it. But when his dad dies suddenly, Frost returns to southern New Mexico to attend the funeral and help his mom decide what to do with their small family ranch. Frost is already considering retiring from bull riding and planting his itchy feet in the ground. Meeting horse trainer Matt Morales just adds another pull in that direction, though Frost still isn’t sure he’s ready to give up the circuit—even if Matt makes settling down look mighty tempting.
Buy links:
http://amzn.to/2sfyNvN


Matt is old enough to know better, but he falls for Frost anyway. They only have so much time to spend together before Frost goes back on tour, but Matt believes they might have something special. He keeps the home fires burning while Frost earns his living, but Matt hopes he can convince Frost to come home—to stay.

“Fucking rodeo cowboys. I hate those assholes. I don’t care how much goddamned money they make.” The old man spat on the ground, then turned a rheumy blue eye on Frost, who hunched his shoulders up around his ears.
He knew old Gus Lucero was talking about him. He was the only one at this funeral who rode the circuit full-time, and he was sure enough the only one who made any frickin’ money in this crowd.
“You figure he’ll go again after the funeral?” Gus’s companion asked. Junior Carran was a long, tall drink of water who still stood pretty upright for someone who had to be in his eighties.
“Yeah.” Gus warmed to his subject. “He’s rodeo trash. He don’t know no better. It’s an addiction.”
He wanted to snap “He’s right here,” but he didn’t bother. No one was changing Gus at this point in his life, and Frost knew better than to argue with that.
Frost Barton looked at the coffin on the stand next to the fresh grave. His father had been the same way. No telling that old man nothin’. Now no one was telling Frost’s pop anything anymore, and their last words had been angry.
He blinked, blocking out whatever the old men had to say. Nothing they could do could hurt him worse than knowing he would never have the chance to make up with his pop.
The preacher stopped droning on and on, finally inviting them all to come up and pay their final respects. His momma stepped up first, placing a small bottle of tequila on the casket. That made Frost smile because his pop had sure embraced his new native land when him and Momma had moved to New Mexico the year before Frost was born.
He stepped up next because he deserved the honor, even if no one but Momma believed it. Frost carried a tiny chile ristra, because Pop loved his ranchero sauce.
The nieces and nephews came next, all in from San Angelo. Pop’s sister Estelle had come to the funeral at the church but had skipped the graveside to go cook. She wanted to make a sheet cake, she said, and chicken spaghetti. Frost reckoned the locals would be horrified. They wouldn’t get it at all. Maybe she would make chili or King Ranch casserole too.
Maybe Frost would stop at Rudy’s and pick up some brisket. He heard they’d opened one now.
He stepped aside, craving a cigarette, knowing he couldn’t let himself have one. Thirty was old in the bull riding game, and he had a collapsed lung two years ago. Smoking was no longer an option.
Someone stepped up beside him, the smell of Old Spice making him glance up, thinking his pop was back from the dead.
“You look like you need a beer, buddy.”
The cowboy standing beside him was Tate, who was kinda halfway between him and his pop, age-wise. Maybe forty, he had a towhead and blue eyes and had been around as long as Frost could remember. He had a bitty ranch out in Jackass Flats, where Frost’s family’s place was out in Doña Ana.
“I could use one, for sure. You coming to the feed?”
“I am. I got—well, my friend Dave. Can he come?”
Something about Tate’s tone made him raise a brow. It reminded him of when Tucker Jones and Barnaby Rollins said they was just riding partners and good friends, not nothin’ gay.
“You got yourself a feller, Tate?” He’d been away more than he’d been home, but he thought he remembered his momma saying something about Tate getting a roommate years ago now. How had Frost never met the man?
“Yep.” Tate’s cheeks went pink, but he grinned. “I cain’t believe you’d never met him. We been shacked up since the year you went out on the circuit. You just ain’t been home.”
“You gonna start on that rodeo trash shit too?” He raised his other eyebrow so boh was up near his hairline.
“Nope.” Tate glanced back at Gus and Junior, a scowl crossing his face. “Busy old beavers.”


***

Hey y'all! My newest release is actually under my YA alter ego, Dakota Chase. It's a paranormal thriller, a rerelease of the first book in a new series (the second book, Hammer of the Witch is now under contract with Harmony Ink!) called Repeating History. If you like GLBT YA, magic, and time travel, then check it out!
Kiernan

Repeating History: Book One
Eye of Ra
by Dakota Chase


Buy link: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/the-eye-of-ra-by-dakota-chase-8337-b4
https://www.amazon.com/Eye-Ra-Repeating-History-Book-ebook/dp/B06ZYHBBRK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1496102133&sr=1-1&keywords=eye+of+ra%2C+dakota+chase




Both Aston and Grant have a talent for finding trouble—it’s what landed them at the Stanton School for Boys—but this time, their mischief might send them to a completely different world.
When they accidentally destroy their teacher’s priceless archaeological artifacts, he demands they replace them. And since the teacher in question is Merlin, refusing isn’t an option for the two boys. Thanks to Merlin’s magic, they’re about to become time travelers.

The first piece on their list is the Eye of Ra, a mystical amulet belonging to the young King Tut. Ancient Egypt is nothing like Aston and Grant expected, with its war, disease, and lack of modern technology. To survive, they must befriend King Tut and learn to trust him—and each other. In a primitive world, where death and danger wait around every corner, one thing is clear: revisiting history could cost someone their life.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

THE SOUND of the gavel rolled through the courtroom like a thunderbolt as the judge called the court to order. I flinched and glanced up at the ceiling, half expecting to see black storm clouds boiling up under the recessed lighting.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The courtroom was crowded with juvenile offenders, and it would be a good, long while before my name was called. I was at the far end of the alphabet, under the Ws, at least when going by last names. First names are another story, but hardly anybody lists people by first names.
Aston Walsh. That’s me.
I supposed I should’ve been used to it all by now. After all, I was a seasoned professional. It was my third trip before the Honorable James Fredrick of Eastman County, an old man who looked like somebody’s grandfather, and probably was, but who had a sneer perpetually plastered on his doughy face. Twice before I’d been arrested and charged with vandalism of school property, ending up in his courtroom. My third offense, taking a car that didn’t belong to me out for a ride, was a lot more serious than the previous two.
Spraying graffiti on the walls of Roosevelt High had seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’d been caught red-handed both times with the paint still wet on my fingers. I can’t even remember why I did it, aside from sheer boredom, but then I’d never really needed a good, solid reason to do anything, stupid or otherwise. I was always a sort of a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy.
My first offense got me a slap on the wrist and a warning from the judge. The second time earned me a summer doing community service by picking up trash five days a week in Danhart Lake Park. My court-appointed lawyer told me I was lucky to have gotten off so easily.
Lucky? Yeah, right. Being sentenced to nine weeks chiseling old chewing gum off park benches, picking up trash, and hosing smelly slime out of garbage cans was just as good as winning a trip to Disney World, right? Lucky, lucky me.
Still, I had to admit—at least to myself, since I’d rather cut off my right arm than admit any adult might be right where I was concerned, particularly a pasty-faced worm like my court-appointed lawyer—it could’ve been worse. I might have drawn a “Go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars” card. The judge could’ve sent me to juvenile hall, or worse, I could’ve been tried as an adult and sent to prison. Neither was somewhere that scored highly on my list of places I most wanted to visit, so in that regard, yeah, I was lucky.
You see, I have a thing about being confined. Claustrophobia is what they call it. Lock me in a small place where I’m unable to get out quickly, and I fall to pieces. Trust me, it isn’t pretty. My heart starts hammering, I break out into a cold sweat, and I start shaking. The experience usually ends with me puking up last week’s breakfast.
Told you it wasn’t pretty.
My father sat next to me on the wooden bench. He worked in construction, and it showed in his big, rough hands. They were scarred and callused, and the skin on the back of his neck was always sunburned. My dad was a big man, beefy, and looked ridiculously uncomfortable in his rumpled dress shirt and black tie. The only other times I could remember my dad wearing a tie was at my mother’s funeral, and when he married my stepmom. Neither was an occasion I liked to think about.
My dad wouldn’t look at me. He was staring straight at the wall at the front of the courtroom, and his expression was stony. Every so often, he muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t quite hear.
I had no problem imagining what he was saying, though.
“Thank God your mother didn’t live to see you now… a common criminal… what a disappointment.”
The words, real or imagined, cut through me like a knife. My father wasn’t talking about Alice, my stepmother. No, my dad was talking about my real mother. She’d died several years ago, when I was just ten years old, and nothing had been the same since, especially since my dad remarried.
I don’t like to think about my real mom if I can help it. It hurts too much.
Alice, dad’s second wife, refused to come to court at all, although I didn’t see that as a big loss. She rarely noticed me anyway, except to complain about something I’d done or hadn’t done. She just didn’t like me, never had, and the feeling was more than mutual. I didn’t miss having her there, but my real mom? That was another story.
My eyes began to burn, and I swallowed a lump in my throat. My stomach churned with the anger that always seemed to boil up when I thought about my mom. I really, really missed her, especially at times like these. I loved her more than I could say, and I hated her at the same time for leaving me.
Stupid, right? I mean, I know people can’t help dying. It happens to everybody sooner or later, but knowing it didn’t make a difference. I still blamed her and felt like she deserted me.
Thinking about my mom was painful and didn’t help my mood one bit. My hands curled into fists, squeezing until my nails bit sharply into my palms. Keep it up, Aston, and you’ll have a full-blown panic attack right here and now. The last thing I wanted to do in a courtroom full of possible cellmates was show them how frightened I was. I forced my attention to the others in the room with me, trying to distract myself from my screaming nerves.
Teenagers filled the benches around me, most sitting next to adults; some looked scared, others angry, and a few bored. I spotted two who were crying, and another who looked as if he were about to hurl.
A few kids appeared to have their own lawyers, like the dark-haired kid dressed in a sharp blue suit in the front row. Money talks, I thought snidely. I didn’t have a private lawyer. My attorney was representing fifty kids that day. He barely knew my name. I got the feeling I was just a case number to him, a paycheck, and that sucked because I was sure I wouldn’t get much in the way of a defense. Not that I had any—I’d done the deed, and once again, had been caught—but it would’ve been nice to have somebody who didn’t think I was a total loser.
I nervously chewed on my bottom lip and drummed my fingers against my thigh to a beat inside my head as I watched a kid represented by the same attorney as me sentenced to six months at the Havenwood Juvenile Detention Facility. I felt a cold shiver, wondering if I would be sitting next to him in the van heading to Havenwood that afternoon.
According to what I’d heard, Havenwood was a labor farm. Kids went in and got put to work hoeing fields and digging holes and stuff.
Six months’ hard labor for a first offense? The judge was in a foul mood today. His bushy white eyebrows knit together, looking like a single, white fuzzy caterpillar stretching across his forehead. As I watched, he remanded no less than ten kids into the custody of the state, all to Havenwood, and for crimes a lot less serious than mine.
That was the very moment that killed whatever hope I might’ve had. Things were going to be bad for me this time, and I might—just might—be seriously screwed.
Okay, definitely screwed, and big time.
Like it’d been with the graffiti, stealing the car had seemed like a good idea at the time, but looking back, I couldn’t figure out why. After all, I had no plans to keep it or sell it, only to drive it around for a while. It seemed ridiculous to me now, sitting in court waiting for my turn, that I’d risked my freedom for a fifteen-minute joyride in a shiny, black BMW.
Of course, I’d never considered the fact that I might be caught either. I never did.
Which is why this was my third trip before the Honorable James Frederick. Three strikes and you’re out, I thought, watching another boy step up before the judge. He was the dark-haired kid in the blue suit, the one who had his own lawyer.
Grant Reginald William Vaughn was the kid’s name. No wonder he has his own lawyer, I thought. If he can afford four names, he can afford his own attorney. That’s just perfect. Rich boy will get probation, and I’ll probably get the chair.
A man I assumed was his father sat next to him and his lawyer. The pretty young girl on his other side must’ve been his sister or girlfriend. She looked like she could’ve been a model—skinny, perfect, and blonde.
Didn’t it figure?
Vaughn didn’t get probation, but he also wasn’t sent to juvie either. He was found guilty of breaking and entering, and sentenced to a year at the Stanton School for Boys, a place I’d never heard of before.
Still has to beat going to juvie, I thought. I can smell my own bacon sizzling already. The last time I was in here, the judge said if he saw me in his courtroom one more time, I was done for. I’ll be wearing a freaking orange jumpsuit by dinnertime.
“Aston Walsh.”
I blinked, startled to hear my own name, even though I’d been sitting there, anticipating it. It was my turn at the bench. In an instant, I forgot all about Grant Reginald William Vaughn with his four names, blue suit, and fancy lawyer, and was consumed by fear for my own future. Would I be going home tonight with my dad or riding in the white county van to juvenile hall? My feet dragged as I stood up and followed my dad to the head of the room, standing next to the balding, bored, court-appointed attorney.
“According to my records, this is your third arrest, young man. What do you have to say for yourself?” From across the bench, the judge glared at me with his diamond-hard blue eyes. He no longer looked like somebody’s grandfather. He looked like a man who could chew up and spit out a kid like me without thinking twice about it.
“I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again.” That sounded weak, even to me, but I actually meant it this time. Please God, get me out of this, and I swear I’ll never break the law again. I won’t even jaywalk. I’ll be a model citizen. I’ll obey traffic signals, and help little old ladies cross the street.
“Grand theft auto is a serious offense. You’re lucky you haven’t been charged as an adult. You’d be facing a possible sentence of up to ten years in the penitentiary. If it were in my power, I’d send you there anyway.”
I gulped, feeling a sharp stab of fear lace through me, icy cold. Penitentiary! That was serious business. I doubted I could survive juvie, never mind the pen. I felt the hot burn of tears at the back of my eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry, I thought frantically, resisting the urge to swipe at my eyes and nose with my sleeve.
“However, you’ve been charged as a juvenile, and that limits my choices. I have several letters from your teachers attesting to your character, regardless of your lapse of common sense. Your grades are excellent, and despite your previous obsession with spray painting obscenities on school property, you’ve attended class regularly. Therefore, I’m sentencing you to one year at the Stanton School for Boys. It’s a private school outside of the city. You will report there at 8:00 a.m. Monday morning.”
He pointed his gavel at me, frowning. “Don’t think you’re getting off lightly, because you’re not. Stanton is barely one-step up from juvenile hall. The only difference is the uniform and the academic excellence. The school has been more than generous in contracting to take in boys who would otherwise end up in the penal system. I’m giving you one last chance. Screw up, find yourself standing in front of me again, and I assure you that your next address will be a cell in Havenwood Penitentiary.”
The judge banged the gavel again, sounding even more like thunder than before, but I actually felt relieved.
Stanton School for Boys. It was just another high school, sort of like a summer sleep-away camp, right? I could handle this.
How bad could it be?


***

My excerpt if from The Dom's Way. It's currently available for pre-order at Dreamspinner and it follows Neal and Way from The Closet Boy as they explore how BDSM might work for them.

Neal and Way from The Closet Boy are back, only now they’re Dom and sub, and exploring their relationship through the lifestyle. Way is eager to learn everything, and more in love with his master every day. For his part, Neal can’t believe how lucky he is to have found such an innocent but sensual boy.

As they learn what works best for them both, Way has trouble obeying some of the rules Neal imposes. Like the no touching himself rule. Neal wants Way to learn control, but Way, after so long holding back, has trouble not indulging. The two men must work together to find the balance that brings them each the most satisfaction and happiness.


Excerpt:

Neal had spent the afternoon making love with Way. Now he was cooking a special supper while Way napped. He’d exhausted his boy.

Grinning, he flipped the steaks.

Way wanted to learn to be his sub. Way wanted to learn the lifestyle.

He wanted to howl with excitement.

How had he gotten so lucky?

He whistled softly as he moved the steaks into the oven. He was in love. His boy wanted to learn. It was totally time to do a little dance.

He heard Way shifting on the sofa, stretching out tall.

He filled a champagne glass with ginger ale and brought it out to Way, leaving it on the coffee table.

His boy was waking up, beginning to search for him, look for him. He loved that, how Way naturally turned to him, even in sleep.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, he watched Way’s face as sleep slowly chased itself off.

“Neal.” Way slid his hand over his leg, petting him. “Something smells amazing.”

“Steak. Fries. Broccoli.” Simple but yummy.

“Yum. Do you need help?”

“Nope. It’s all taken care of.” He took the champagne glass and offered it over. “Ginger ale.”

“Fancy!” Way smiled at him, obviously tickled. “Thank you.”

“I thought it would be nice to really dress things up. I feel like we’re celebrating.” The beginning of the rest of their lives. He’d known for a while that Way was it for him, but to know he wasn’t going to have to give up this side of himself, that Way was going to share it with him, was definitely cause for celebration.

“That’s neat. I’ve never celebrated naked.”

“No?” He tried to think of a time he’d done something like this. “I don’t think I have either, but I think we should consider it a regular thing.”

“Me too!” Way’s laughter rang out. “Do you have a glass too, so we can cheers together?”

He grabbed the other glass off the table and held it up. “Cheers to us.”

“Cheers!”

Neal took a sip, then wrapped one hand in Way’s heavy mass of dark hair, drawing his boy in for a kiss. It might have been fun to do it with actual champagne, but he wanted them to be sober as they began their journey together.

Groaning, he broke their lips apart and rubbed their noses together. “Did you have a good nap?”

“I did. I never nap, but you wore me out.”

He chuckled and petted Way’s chest. “I plan to wear you out a lot.”

Way pinked and blushed, head ducking.

He hugged his boy and had another sip. “So, did you want to talk about anything you’ve learned or are curious about?” Neal wanted Way and his innate curiosity to lead their relationship.

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve seen lots.” Yes, Neal imagined so. The upper floors of the gym were devoted to physicality—sexual and otherwise.

“You have. You’re in a unique position, having access to seeing things like that. Plus you already have some friends in the lifestyle. I bet that gives you a good idea of what types of things turn you on, what you want to learn more of.”

Way looked worried, then shook his head. “I don’t know if I want to learn about those things yet.”

“We’re going to take it as slow as you need to. Don’t forget about your safeword. That’s one of the most important things.” And he wasn’t all-seeing, even if most Doms would like to pretend they were.

“Asparagus. I remember.”

“Yeah, I do too.” He grinned as the oven timer dinged. “That’s our dinner. I hope you’re hungry.” He got up and headed toward the kitchen, humming happily.

“I’ll get dressed real quick, okay?”

Neal turned back. “You don’t have to do that. And if you do get dressed, just put on jeans, okay? I like your sexy body and want to see as much of it as I can.”


If you have any questions you'd like us to answer, or a theme for us to riff off of, please let us know!

Website:

Facebook:

Sean
smut fixes everything

Saturday, May 27, 2017

Happy Endings (No not that kind!) by S.C. Wynne


Hi, all!

I know in Romance we have to have happy endings, and I'm glad about that. My nephew wrote a great little science fiction story for a school project and it didn't have a happy ending. The hero kind of redeems himself in the end, but he dies. Along the way he meets a woman and falls for her, but ultimately it goes no where, because he dies. I loved his story and it occurred to me that I'm completely not used to things not working out perfectly for the characters in books. Because I write strictly romance.

I prefer writing stories that end happily, and I'm not sure why there's sometimes the perception that because romance books are supposed to end happily they aren't to be taken seriously. That's nonsense. You can tell a gripping, meaningful story and have a happy ending too. There's no reason it has to be one or the other.

But maybe that's just me. :)

S.C.
www.sc-wynne.com



Friday, May 26, 2017

Check Point by Felice Stevens


Somehow we seem to have found ourselves at Memorial Day Weekend once again. Which means the year is almost half way done.
YIKES
I look back at what I've hoped to accomplish in my writing and I'm satisfied. then I look at what I have on my list of "Things Felice would love to write one day if she were cloned."
YIKES again.

But on to what IS in the works for now. 

I have a book coming out soon-no exact date, called The Shape of You and I can't wait for you to meet these two men who seem completely opposite of each other yet some way, some how they figure out that maybe they are what the other has been looking for.

I was writing the story of Adam Barton the red-headed firefighter from Beyond the Surface and Rico Estevez, Gideon's strong but silent partner in Learning to Love which is more than halfway done, when Bamm! here comes an idea to write a new novella for the Landmarks series Kade Boehme and I will be writing. (More on that in a future post and podcast.)
The story is called Under the Boardwalk and takes place on and around the world famous Coney Island Boardwalk, right by Luna Park, Nathan's, all the concession stands and of course, the beach. the main characters are Alexi Kharpov and Cameron DiStefano. (More on them as their story develops.)

And of course there is the launch of the Kindle World which is less than a month away1 *Cue panic music. 
There are SO MANY wonderful stories coming taking place in Marcus's nightclub, Sparks, Uncommon Grounds coffee shop and many other scenes from the Memories series and The Breakfast Club series. Some of the participating authors are: S.c. Wynne, Lane Hayes, Kelly Jensen and Silvia Violet, but I know you'll want to read all the books by all the authors because they are so good!

So that about wraps up my Summer. Kinda busy but I love it. 
Now onto the Fall writing schedule....
Have a great holiday weekend! I'm off to Florida. 
Happy Reading!!

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Ask Andrew - Recommendations


Dear Andrew

What book do you recommend to other the most and why?

Thanks
Dawn R

Dear Dawn

I get asked for book recommendations all the time and I'm I don't have a standard answer.  I usually ask what they like to read and find a story that I hope they'll like.  Every reader is different just like every story is different  But I do have some fall back type stories.  If the reader likes Historicals I recommend Noble Intentions, for sports The Playmaker.  If they like angstier stories, Turning the Page.

However the one story I think I have recommended more than any other is Love Means... No Shame.  This story really stuck with me over all these years and its embedded itself deep in my heart.  I like to think its that story that I put a lot of myself into.  I know there are a lot of my own experiences in the books in that series.  Thought here is part of me in every book. 

Hugs and Love
Andrew


Ask Andrew is your chance to ask questions of a gay romance author.  The questions can be about the writing process in general, writing sex scenes, gay men, sex, characters in romance, characters having sex... okay you probably get the picture.    I promise to answer your questions as frankly and with as much humor as I possibly can.

So if you have a question, please send it to andrewgreybooks@comcast.net.  This is different from my usual email so your questions don't get lost.  I will answer one question a week.

Please remember this is meant to be all in fun.  (I was going to say good, clean fun, but who wants that.)    So send me your questions and let's see what mischief we can get into.

Visit Andrew on Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/andrewgreybooks  and you can join Andrew's fan group All The Way With Andrew Grey.

Follow him on Twitter:  @andrewgreybooks

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Movie Q&A with BA, Julia, Kiernan and Sean


It’s summer blockbuster movie time when a lot of ‘big’ movie releases happen. So we thought we’d do movie-themed questions today.

1. Favorite movie adapted from a book?
2. Is there any movie you’ve seen that was better than the book it was based on?
3. Are there any particular movies you’re especially looking forward to seeing this summer?
4. Favorite childhood movie?
5. Favorite movie from when you were ‘a youth’?
6. Favorite all time movie?
7. Favorite guilty pleasure movie?
8. Favorite genre?
9. Least favorite genre?
10. Favorite theatre snack?
11. Is there anything that will ruin a movie for you and make you stop watching it?
12. What do you think about ‘remakes’?
13. When you watch a movie at home – do you make popcorn?

B.a.
1. Wizard of Oz
2. Carrie
3. I don't go to the movies. I'll be ready to see the new Alien movie streaming, though.
4. Wizard of Oz, followed closely by The Trouble with Angels.
5. St.Elmo's Fire
6. Wizard of Oz
7. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band with the Bee Gees and Peter Frampton
8. Horror
9. Grindhouse
10. Popcorn
11. I am the queen of 'I'm not watching this'. I'll walk out of a movie for 10000 reasons from unrelenting depression to nothing happens to I'm bored.
12. I tend not to watch.
13. I make popcorn way more often than I watch a movie.

Julia
1. Favorite movie adapted from a book?
Uh..Jurassic Park

2. Is there any movie you’ve seen that was better than the book it was based on?
Jurassic Park ;)

3. Are there any particular movies you’re especially looking forward to seeing this summer?
Oh man I have no idea what's coming out

4. Favorite childhood movie?
Star Wars

5. Favorite movie from when you were ‘a youth’?
Hmmm. What's youth exactly? A teen I guess?  I think probably Stand By Me

6. Favorite all time movie?
The Mummy

7. Favorite guilty pleasure movie?
High Spirits

8. Favorite genre?
Horror/Thriller

9. Least favorite genre?
Comedy, though I watch a good many I just can't find some stuff funny like other folks do

10. Favorite theatre snack? popcorn

11. Is there anything that will ruin a movie for you and make you stop watching it?
I stop watching movies all the time. Boring is the cardinal sin

12. What do you think about ‘remakes’?

Depends on the remake. Some things were too good the first time

13. When you watch a movie at home – do you make popcorn?

Usually not, no. Once in a great while

Kiernan
1. Favorite movie adapted from a book?
Wizard of Oz

2. Is there any movie you’ve seen that was better than the book it was based on?
Jaws, Jurassic Park

3. Are there any particular movies you’re especially looking forward to seeing this summer?
Wonder Woman

4. Favorite childhood movie?
Wizard of Oz

5. Favorite movie from when you were ‘a youth’?
Wizard of Oz/any MGM classic musical

6. Favorite all time movie? Wizard of Oz (seeing a pattern here?)

7. Favorite guilty pleasure movie? Megashark vs. Giant Octopus

8. Favorite genre? Bad B monster movies, and classic musicals

9. Least favorite genre?
Film noir

10. Favorite theatre snack?
Popcorn with oodles of fake butter and salt

11. Is there anything that will ruin a movie for you and make you stop watching it?
Stupid gaping plot holes and really bad dialogue

12. What do you think about ‘remakes’?
It depends. Most aren't nearly as good as the original (i.e. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory), but some are pretty decent (Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Kong: Skull Island).

13. When you watch a movie at home – do you make popcorn? If I'm Skype movie watching with other people (I'm looking at you, B.A. and Julia. Trilogy of Terror awaits!).

Sean
1. Favorite movie adapted from a book?

Lord of the Rings - the whole thing

2. Is there any movie you’ve seen that was better than the book it was based on?

Not that I can think of.

3. Are there any particular movies you’re especially looking forward to seeing this summer?

Guardians of the Galaxy 2 and Despicable Me 3

4. Favorite childhood movie?

Cinderella - it was the first movie I ever saw in the theatre and I was six and it was my birthday. We had to take two buses to get to it and I can remember it was so cold and snowy and it took forever to get there. My mom took me.

5. Favorite movie from when you were ‘a youth’?

Chariots of Fire

6. Favorite all time movie?

All time favorite? I don't know that I can pick one. In fact I'm pretty damn sure I can't.

7. Favorite guilty pleasure movie?

The Knight's Tale

8. Favorite genre?

I tend to like sci-fi/action/adventure

9. Least favorite genre?

Do documentaries count?

10. Favorite theatre snack?

Gotta be popcorn with extra butter.

11. Is there anything that will ruin a movie for you and make you stop watching it?

Really bad acting and/or writing.

12. What do you think about ‘remakes’?

Some I like, some I hate. I always have to wonder, though, why folks can't write their own movies instead of redoing what's already been done...

13. When you watch a movie at home – do you make popcorn? 

Sometimes.


If you have any questions you'd like us to answer, or a theme for us to riff off of, please let us know!

Website:

Facebook:

Sean
smut fixes everything

Monday, May 22, 2017

99¢ Sale by Cardeno C.


Happy Monday! I hope you had a great weekend with time to read lots of new books. And if you're looking to add to your to-be-read pile, now's your chance to do it at a discount. More Than Everything is on sale for a couple of days for only 99¢!



Have a great week.

CC
www.cardenoc.com

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Using Social Media Filters to Maintain Creativity




Let me paint a picture in your mind. You wake up, ready to start a day of writing. You fix yourself a hot cup of coffee. Sweetened with caramel macchiato creamer of course. You settle down at your computer and log onto Facebook or Twitter to see what the world is up to and BAM!!! 

HORROR! AND OUTRAGE! AND INTRIGUE! AND MURDER! AND ABUSE!

Now log off and go write a book. Have fun! Yeah, no. Not happening.

Me, reading my social media feeds.

I know that I’m not the first creative type to blog about this subject. But it’s important enough that I think it warrants repeat posts to further the subject’s reach until every creative is aware of it. Creative Types – Writers, Painters, Musicians, Dancers, Actors, etc. – it is okay to step away from news of current events in order to protect your creativity. I literally could stop there and I think everyone would understand what I mean. But I’ll get a little more in-depth, otherwise this would be a really short post.

The world we live in has never been perfect. There has always been turmoil, war, discrimination, and a host of other issues. But I think we can all agree that 2016 and continuing on into 2017 have been particularly rough politically. It's amplified by the fact that we have instant and constant updates on every major event. Social media is awesome for keeping us informed on what’s going on in the world. But it can also be emotionally draining. 

Some days, scrolling through my feed there will be status after status or tweet after tweet on the latest scandal/incident/protest/bill passage/firing/death. My anxiety ratchets up super high every time I see the word BREAKING. Reading those statuses and tweets every day can take their toll. You might start to feel helpless, wondering what you can do to get involved. You might feel guilty for “frivolously” creating when there seem to be so many more important things going on. You might feel hopeless and think the world is going to continue being awful, so why even bother? And once you have those thoughts in your head, it can be extremely difficult to disengage from them and continue on with your creative work. And that’s why it’s important to step away from social media.

Listen. Your work is important. It’s important to you of course, because it is your baby. But it’s also important to others. Your book or piece of fan or original art or hilarious video might be the thing that brightens someone’s day. We all need to consume fine arts and other things we enjoy in addition to keeping up with current events. So do what you have to do in order to keep your creativity healthy and active. Filtering your social media to keep certain topics from showing up is a great start. Here are a few ways you can do that:

1) On Twitter, you can mute words, accounts, hashtags & phrases for specified periods. You can only list one at a time, so it’s a little time-consuming, but it’s worth it. Go to your Settings & Privacy and select Muted Words to use this feature.


2) If you use Chrome, there are a few extensions you can use to filter the topics that appear on your feed for both Twitter and Facebook. Social Fixer for Facebook and Vital for Twitter are two examples.


 

3) Get off social media altogether. Believe me, I know how hard this can be. Social media is super addictive. But you can use an add-on like LeechBlock, which will block whatever sites you specify during certain times of the day, days of the week, etc. It’s also great for staying productive when writing in general.


 The above methods can be very helpful in blocking out specific topics so that you can continue to use social media, without feeling overwhelmed by the world. In writing this post, I’m not saying that I don’t want to be informed. I do. I want to keep up to date because I feel it is my responsibility as a citizen and just for my own general awareness. 

I also don’t expect people to stop sharing the things that they are passionate about. But at the same time, I don’t want to wade through a seemingly never-ending sludge of awfulness every time I log on to my favorite social media sites. I want to consume politics and other current events on my terms. So I’ve taken steps to filter my feeds and will check on the news at my convenience.


 

I love creating and I need to be in a positive mind-set in order to do so. If you’re also a creative (or any person who feels overwhelmed by social media) give yourself permission to block/hide/regulate anything that prevents you from doing what you love. You’ll thank yourself for it.

Thanks for reading!

Love,
Christa

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