PROMO: Dog Tagged

Promo

Dog TaggedJames Brock has a new MM Military Romance out, and we have the cover reveal for “Dog Tagged.”

Drill Sergeant Clay Norris has his military life running right on schedule. Career focused he appreciates that he joined up when his sexuality is at least acknowledged under Don’t Ask, Don’t tell, even if he doesn’t get to act on his urges as much as he likes.

In formation with his new trainee group he locks eyes with Chevrolet Banks and his life, their lives, are changed forever.

Dog Tagged is an insta love military romance based on real life incidents.

Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 


Giveaway

James is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this cover reveal – enter via Rafflecopter:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4789/?


Excerpt

Dog tagged memeWhat also became clear to me in my short time with the fun, cute guy was that I had fallen so hard for Private Chevy Banks that I couldn’t get him out of my head even standing next to this walking hard-on.

I did let the hot salesman give me a quick kiss on the cheek in the changing room and tried to forget the warmth of his lips as I headed out to the clubs and got some dance and further drink on, always bearing in mind that I was an officer now and had some decorum to maintain.

Okay, all that means is that I got pretty wasted.

And that I danced with all comers. I was quickly stripped out of that cute little shirt salesman Evan had put me in, my training ripped body giving me pick of the litter. Not last call litter, not still breathing and leftover litter. Porn star guys (REAL porn star guys) were fighting over me, actual pushing and shoving, it was quite the scene, the knot of men who had surrounded this former Drill Instructor.

At some point I looked up to see the smiling face of Evan the clerk from the clothing store next to me, an arm thrown protectively thrown around my shoulder. His sweet smile was the brightest of the lot, I latched onto him like an octopus gripping a clam.

I have no idea how long the revelry went on or how I got back to the hotel.

Let alone what might have happened there.

The next morning I woke not feeling well at all. Slick with sweat, sick to my stomach I rolled my head on the pillow slowly, not knowing what kind of guy I was going to find next to me. Thankfully the pillow was empty, as was the bed, although the blankets were mussed enough to let me know someone had recently nested there. Carefully lifting myself I checked the floor and was relieved to see no other bodies in the room.

But at that moment the bathroom door opened and a figure came out.

Evan, blond and sunny, cute as the night before in tattered jean and a faded green t shirt with a cracked and worn logo on it stepped into the darkened room.

“Hey buster, didn’t think you’d be up for a while,” he said with a giggle in his voice.

Flopping down onto the chair across the room he slipped his feet into athletic shoes and laced them. “Or should I be calling you Lieutenant Buster?” he added with a nod toward my dress uniform hanging neatly in the closet.

“Just call me a time machine man, I wanna go back about twelve hours and start over again.” I sighed from the bed. “What the fuck happened….”

“What didn’t happen is the better question,” Even said evenly. “you were wined and dined, if you count the bag of Dorito’s you were given to strap on like a feed bag dining, given drinks and very nearly given drugs and taken to other clubs and there was talk of taking you to that skeezy bath house connected to the dance club, but you wouldn’t go anywhere without me once I had been spotted. You seemed to be quite taken with modest little moi and since I refused to go to that bathhouse everyone was trying to get you to go to I finally got you back here where there were more drinks and salty snacks then there was some crying….” he trailed off. “I’ve ordered room service for you; hope you don’t mind.”

“Wait. Wait, wait.” I said using a nearly Drill Sergeant size voice as the handsome young man stood, “I need the whole story.”

About that time there was a knock at the door; Evan let room service in, signing the check. “You are a good tipper, just so you know,” he grinned while pushing the tray of food over toward me on the bed then pouring coffee. He motioned for me to eat then sat back down. “I was going out anyway so when I closed up I came over to the club and there you were, gaily lit as a Christmas tree and surrounded by faeries more headstrong and stubborn than Tinkerbell all out to get a piece of the hottest man in the city. Not the bar, the city. And I’m not just saying that because I am the one who ended up sleeping with you.”

I guess I looked up at him like a deer in head lights.

“Stop, don’t flatter me. I’ve got it going on but I’m not ripped like you. Word was out that there was a military hottie on the hoof in the club and every muscle queen and gym bunny in town showed up to audition as your hook-up for the night. I think guys were flying in from LA and San Francisco trying to get to you,” the blond smiled.

“So you brought me back here and we….” I said, mouth full of egg. The food was going down smoother than I expected it would.

“I didn’t get in the way of your fun too much, I just kept an eye on you. Until they started to undress you and began offering you pills, powders and potions.”

I felt myself shudder and freeze.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t let them. I just brought you back here, where you insisted on another drink or ten. Then you got weepy and I held you and let you talk about a car until you fell asleep. I dunno, everyone has a kink or two, but I’ve never heard anyone rhapsodize about a vehicle the way you went on and on about your Chevy last night.”

I was really embarrassed then.

I let a silence settle between us before taking a sip of scalding hot coffee and replying.

“Not a car, a guy,” I whispered.

“I fell off a turnip truck but that was a long time ago,” he smirked while reaching over and snagging a crisp piece of bacon off my plate and began chewing on it, “I figured as much.” Evan said with true kindness in his voice. “I had a brother in the Army and knew you were just blowing off some steam. Those wolves would have eaten you and I like to think someone would have looked after my brother the same way. Nothing happened between us.”

“That would have been the best part of the night it sounds like,” I managed, no longer interested in the food.

“You were a hot mess, but I am very glad you are alright. Now I’ve gotta go to work. If you are in town for a while here is my card.” With that Evan produced a business card with his name, number and e mail on it. “Use it at will.” he slipped the card on the breakfast tray then slid his arms around my body, giving me a very nice hug.

“Leaving tomorrow, but some other time without question.”

Stopping at the closet on his way out he reached in and touched the sleeve of my dress uniform.

“Are you going over?”

“Soon.”

There was a slight pause before he broke his eyes form the uniform.

“Be safe. E mail and let me know how you are. Promise?”

“Promise, and thanks. Is your brother back?” there was a pause before Evan answered Yesin such a quiet way that I knew the way his brother had come home.

“I’m sorry,” was all I had time to say before the cute blond turned and gave me a wan smile and slipped out of the room.


Author Bio

James Brock is an Amazon number one best selling author, with fifteen M/M romance novels published and two family autobiographies.

Once upon a time he sold comedy to Joan Rivers and Phyllis Diller, was published in every gay men’s magazine on the market (when there was a market, those dinosaurs were killed off by DVD, which were in turn eaten by streaming and on demand…), the Seattle Gay News and Seattle Standard and essays with the late great Alyson Publications.

James lives in Seattle.

Author Website: JamesBrockBooks.com

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Men-Overboard-100109810041126/

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/jamesbrockbooks

LOGO - Other Worlds Ink 

New Release: FIRESTORM

Promo, Writing

I just finished the convoluted process of getting my new book onto Amazon, which means it may or may not be available on the official release day. I’ve got my fingers crossed.

firestorm_med


There are different kinds of fire in life. The fire of passion, the fire of loss, the fire of the entire world exploding. There is beautiful fire, and ugly fire, and the fire of shame burning through a soul gone astray. And there is the fire wielded by the hand of a mage.

Kai and Jericho have been in charge of the Eternal Empire for several years, now. Life couldn’t be better, as far as Jericho is concerned. He’s got a home,a stable routine, the constant companionship of the man he loves. But Kai wants more. He longs for the excitement of adventure, the uncertainty of life freed from the expectations of others, the challenge of making a difference.

In short, he’d rather be back in the Borderlands.

That’s where all the real fun is. Forget about the stable, civilized, boring Eternal Empire. There are hundreds of worlds, maybe even thousands, where life is little more than abject misery, just waiting for someone to come along and clean them up. But the Imperial Senate won’t allow any of his plans to go into operation. They certainly won’t allow him to do anything about the messes personally. Why bother? Borderlanders don’t matter, not when compared to the perfection that is the Eternal Empire.

Nobody saw the firestorm on the horizon.

What will happen when an explosion shatters the stable, predictable life Kai and Jericho have built for themselves? Will it lead to the end of everything they’ve shared? Will it bring utter madness in its wake? 

From stability, insanity. Dark mages. Demons. Invincible aliens. Powerful change is coming fast. But will Kai and Jericho survive?


Yeah, that’s right, people. It’s coming. And it might just explode your mind along with everything else.

I’ll send out the buy link whenever it goes live.

Promo: Impact Cover Reveal!

Promo

Impact revealQueer Sci Fi is releasing its fourth flash fiction anthology: Impact. We have the cover reveal here today!

 

IM * PACT

(noun)

1) One object colliding with another

2) An impinging of something upon something else

3) An influence or effect on something or someone

4) The force of a new idea, concept, technology or ideology

Four definitions to inspire writers around the world, and an unlimited number of possible stories to tell, but only 110 made the final cut.

A difficult choice to be made. An object hurtling recklessly through space. A new invention that will change the world. So many things can impact a life, a society, or a planet.

Impact features 300 word speculative fiction ficlets from across the queer spectrum from the minds of the writers of Queer Sci Fi.

Welcome to Impact.

About the Series:

It’s hard to tell a story in just 300 words. Each year we ask writers to take the challenge, turning in stories across the queer spectrum. The rules are simple. Write a complete sci fi, fantasy, paranormal or horror story, include LGBTIQA characters, and do it all with just 300 carefully chosen words.

Buy Links 

Amazon Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FC91HH2

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/impact-j-scott-coatsworth/1129055097

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/impact/id1409688669

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/impact-84

Angus & Robertson: https://www.angusrobertson.com.au/books/x/p/9781732307537

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40779373-impact


Giveaway

Queer Sci Fi is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4721/?


Excerpt

Since this book is composed of stories of no more than 300 words, we can’t really do a standard excerpt, so we’re offering you the teaser first lines from a number of stories.

“She’d needed new oil. She felt her joints grow stiff, her muscles grow tight, her follicles thickening. If she didn’t get fresh quarts soon, people she passed would start calling her sir, asking, Where’s your gun?” —Crossville Station, by Nathan Alling Long

“The mallet’s impact on the hard, bright disk shattered the silence in the talking chamber. The resulting deep tone reverberated through the vault, through Saskia, as she fidgeted beside her lover.” —Settled, by Aidee Ladnier

“This is how the world ends, or so they say. From where I’m standing, it simply looks like a rolling darkness as distant lights flicker and die.” —Visitors, by LJ Phillips

“’What have you done?’ The mechanical eyes came to rest on his face, the droning beep sounding loud in the small room.” —Identity and Change, by Jo Tannah

“’Once upon a world, we were the same,’ he said, lifting my hand to his lips; the ground shaking beneath us.” —Impact, by Jack Ladd

“I been a tinker and soothsayer long enough to know this country’s at the cusp of war. They stir up hate easy as breath. And, oh, it pains my soul to see it. “ —Impact of Intervention, by Patricia Scott

“All lives begin with a messy impact of some kind. The crash of zygotes and gametes. Splats of silica gel between cybernetic synapses. Two women slam into each other carrying full cups of coffee.” —Quintessence, by E.M. Hammill

“If I venture far enough into the house, I’ll find my closet.” —The Closet, by K.S. Trenten

“It touched Ligaya when she was a child. Or she touched it. A half-glimpsed shape under her bed.” Mas Mabuti An Answang, by Foster Bridget Cassidy

“Jam zipped down the neon track, feather-light in low gravity. She rocketed forward, a glowing haze in her starred helmet, and shot past the pack. “Space Jammer!” echoed as she neared the line. Time to rack up the points.” —First Bout: Andromedolls Vs. Crotch Rockets, by Ginger Streusel


About Queer Sci Fi:

At Queer Sci Fi, we’re building a community of sci fi, fantasy, paranormal and horror writers and readers who want a little rainbow in their speculative fiction. We run a great discussion group on Facebook, a twitter feed, and have a website full of useful materials, news, and announcements for readers and writers of queer speculative fiction.

Website: https://www.queerscifi.com

Facebook Discussion Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/qsfdiscussions/

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/queerscifi/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/QueerSciFi

On Feedback

Random, Writing

I’m heading into the final stages of editing my overgrown story Firestorm, which means I’ve had someone read it and give feedback. This is an important process, I know. And it helps improve the final outcome, especially when one is self-publishing. Being a solitary writer can sometimes feel like shouting out into a vacuum, wondering if anyone will ever hear. At least that’s how it feels to me.

But this time the feedback made me realize it might be easier to go it alone sometimes. Wow. Made me feel like the shittiest writer ever, some of it, because I got the distinct impression that the reader wasn’t even reading my manuscript, but rather something completely different. Some of the comments had me going “Huh? What do you mean, being surprised by X? There was a whole friggin’ chapter about X earlier, how could it blindside you so bad?”

And yet, at the same time I want to forget all about other people’s opinions and just write for myself, I’m still happy I sent the sucker off to be picked on and misunderstood. Check it out. Every single time the person asked a clueless question, it pointed big shiny arrows at a flaw. Because if the area in question wasn’t boring or poorly written, then the person wouldn’t have asked questions about it. Right? Right. Plus, it made me think of something a friend said ages ago, about movie critics. Paraphrase: You don’t have to agree with the critic. If you know what they like or dislike, it can still give you a good idea if you’ll like the movie or not. So, and this is my interpretation now, if the critic hates lighthearted, silly space operas, but you love them, a bad review might be a nice indicator that you’ll love the movie. Especially if the critic rips on the character for wearing a spacesuit that looks like pajamas, but you love the cheesy pajama look on a bridge crew.

So I applied that manner of thinking to the feedback, and it helped a bit. What? You didn’t like that I left four millennia of history out of the action scene? I must have gotten the action right, ’cause I know you love slow, in-depth, detailed explorations of history. And you can’t figure out why a character would do something Not Nice? Awesome, I gave the character a flaw.

And yet, there’s that whole “shittiest writer ever” feeling… Argh. I’ll just keep telling myself it’s okay, the shittiest writer ever wouldn’t bother trying to find and fix the flaws.

 

Promo: CALEDONIA DESTINY Cover Reveal!

Promo

http://www.lexiander.com/index.htmlLexi Ander is revealing the cover for her new MM historical fantasy/paranormal book, Caledonia Destiny – due out on July 9th:

A twist of fate changed both their destinies.

The wyrbears, once a long-lived species, were being lost to the forest in their prime. A people borne of a curse, their abilities not a gift but something wrongly taken, they nonetheless live in harmony with their animal spirits. But over time the curse they lived under changed, mutated, and now what once was a refuge from the world when they became too weary is culling mathan in their prime.

Ewen mhic Friscalach, the leader of his peoples, lost his father too early and is now a widower with four children. The vow he made as a youth to break the curse afflicting wyrbears has been buried by grief and responsibility.

Roi mhic Alric, a priest of Cerridwen and seer, watched his fellow priests slaughtered and his temple desecrated. The only thing that kept him going the last three horror-filled years was the vision Cerridwen had granted him of his emancipation. If freedom came at the cost of his life, well, he was more than ready for the Otherworld.

A fated meeting upon a bloody field of battle. A wrong done long ago. Their choices could save a people… or send them into extinction. Either way, their love will be legend.

Caledonia Destiny started out as 31k short story that had a happy for now ending. Now, years later, I have rewritten and expanded the original to 111k.

Buy Links Coming Soon 


Giveaway

Lexi is giving away three $10 Amazon gift cards with this tour – for a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4717/?


Author Bio
AUTHOR PHOTO Lexi Ander - Caledonia Destiny

Lexi has always been an avid reader, and at a young age started reading (secretly) her mother’s romances (the ones she was told not to touch). She was the only teenager she knew of who would be grounded from reading. Later, with a pencil and a note book, she wrote her own stories and shared them with friends because she loved to see their reactions. A Texas transplant, Lexi now kicks her boots up in the Midwest with her Yankee husband and her eighty-pound puppies named after vacuum cleaners.

Author Website: http://www.lexiander.com/index.html

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/lexi.ander.9

Author Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/LexiAnder1

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6521302.Lexi_Ander

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/lexi-ander/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Lexi-Ander/e/B009PT22GM/

Oh yeah, promotional crap…

Promo, Writing

Other authors do this stuff all the time. I always admire their promotional skills, their ability to promote their own work without blushing brighter than an average bonfire. But I tend to hide in a shadowy corner and shove my stories out in the wild and let them stand or fall on their own.

But… that’s hardly a strategy used by successful authors. Instead, they do this thing called “engaging the audience,” and that other thing called “promotion.” Yes, I have indeed used that word several times now, all within two paragraphs. But I’ve got a new release coming soon, and my usual hiding in the shadows approach won’t help it succeed.

So here you go. I’m pushing myself out into the internet’s face, waving around my author flag, and saying Read my stuff! I can write! See? I tell stories!

Cool stories. Fun stories. Remember Eternal? No? Damn, then who bought it and bumped it up to #1 on Amazon for a while?

Well, fine. It wasn’t you. So have a sample.

(excerpt from Eternal)

eternal

The full repair of the drive and all its crystals took three more days. It was exhausting, but so worth it. I learned a lot, as previously mentioned, about history, deep inside those spells. I even fancied I knew the mages who’d assembled this drive and all its component spells. There had been three of them, each with his—or her, one was a woman—own style and signature. Absolutely fascinating work.

Kai watched some of it. Not all, because clearly, for all his potential, he was no mage and couldn’t see most of the good stuff, but some. Like the connections getting re-established in the spell matrices. That had to look pretty cool, a complex, glowing matrix weaving itself out of nothing right there in the air over the drive pedestal. And as soon as I finished repairing the main flight spells, we took off into space. I could work on the others while we flew between planets and D-gates. Most of spaceflight consisted of boring plodding back and forth between planetary systems and the dimensional gates that warped space anyway, might as well use the time for an important purpose, right?

I finished the entire repair shortly before we reached the D-gate. That meant I was atop my cabin, on a sweet little observation deck complete with railing to make it look like a boat, when we approached it. The concept of observation deck took a little getting used to, at first. Because, of course, the containment spells are fully invisible, so it looks like I’m out in the vacuum of space, leaning on a fragile, thin railing, a feeling sure to incite panic in most sensible souls. But I’m hardly all that sensible. I love the feeling of space surrounding me in all its immensity. And more than that, I love watching the stars. This stretch of space is pretty bland and boring, no nebulae or anything interesting like that, but who cares? The stars are enough for me. Of course, now there’s a D-gate to look at, too, and only a fool wouldn’t be fascinated by one of those.

A massive, octagonal metal frame hung in space, a technological monstrosity to build the spell matrix on. An assortment of traffic surrounded it, and a heavily armed Gate Patrol craft hung menacingly over it all, keeping the peace. Every gate in the huge network, Imperial or not, had at least one Gate Patrol boat assigned to it, because no one could ever be allowed to take over a D-gate. The survival of modern civilization required the gates remain neutral, and functional. Otherwise… well, I’m no political genius, but I can see where there would be a big problem if someone started messing with the gates. So the Gate Patrol formed up, a neutral, independent force that protected and maintained the D-gates for all to use. And, of course, collected fees from all users.

The gate spell itself looked like a rainbow of shifting energy. The beautiful, shimmering sheet spread across the physical gate like a soap bubble on a wand right before a child blows it. I wondered if maybe someday I’d get a chance to work on one. Gate maintenance sounded utterly boring to some, I know, but I’d always been attracted by the complexity of the spells. They had to be so generalized, and at the same time so precise! Parameters for touching each and every other gate in the network, for the dimensions ships went to in transit, for protecting human life and the ships themselves, for keeping other entities out of our universe… and so on. Hundreds of complex spells, and every one had to be in perfect working order to let ships pass through safely. Not that I have any say in the matter, but if I ever do get the chance to work for the D-gate service, I’m on it.

Kai appeared on the deck beside me, and I’d been so wrapped up in thoughts of the beautiful gate that I twitched in surprise when I saw him. Starlight and shadows played across his skin, making him look rather magical himself.

Huh. That was an odd thought.

“What’s it look like to you?”

“Um… you mean the gate?”

“Yeah. To me, it’s just a big thing, something to get from one place to another. But what’s a mage see?”

I smiled a little. “Beauty. Complexity. Hundreds of interwoven spells, each depending on the other, each forming a perfect web of functionality.”

“Much more interesting than a shiny patch in space.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll be going through the thing shortly. We’re number twenty-four in the line.”

“Where we going, anyway?”

“Monrovia.” He grinned at my startled reaction.

“Whatever for?”

“Same thing everyone else goes to Monrovia for. Shopping.” He poked distastefully at my robe, my bland, boring, ordinary as the day is long robe. “Can’t have you running around like that, after all. I’ve got an image to maintain.”

I snorted. Today he wore a full-out Romance outfit, burgundy, cream, and black, complete with poofy sleeves and tights. “Huh. Great. I’ve got no fashion sense, you know. Never even been shopping.”

“Really?”

“Nope, never. Not even once. No money, remember?”

“Huh. No need to worry about that now. I may be an exile, but I’m still smarter than the damn Emperor. He thought he’d do me real damage by exiling me. He even tried to have me declared officially dead, since he couldn’t kill me the ordinary way. But I could see it coming miles away, so I took my accountant’s advice. I liquefied all my assets and had accounts set up out here before he even thought about blocking that sort of thing. The exile didn’t do much except get me out of his sight. Which is probably why there’s so many assassins on my tail these days. Anyway, there’ll never be a need to worry about money.”

“As long as you like me, anyway,” I said, all too aware of how transient good fortune is in my life.

He smiled. “No worries there, either. You’re far too useful to have around. I’m not about to run you off.”

“Good.”

We stood quietly for a moment longer, watching the traffic around the D-gate, then Kai left for the control room. I didn’t. Are you kidding? When there’s a chance to watch a D-gate translation from what amounts to right in the middle of it? I know the containment spells on this ship, which I’d found out is named the Chaos Rider, will hold. Of course they will, I’d done ’em myself. So why pass up the chance to see the translation in action? Most people never saw such a thing, not even mages. Because, of course, most space-going vessels kept passengers safely locked away, with walls in between themselves and the black. One more reason to love a space schooner. There’s nothing that can adequately describe the feeling of flying through space with nothing but invisible spells and a big balloon between me and the stars.

We crept slowly forward, towards the gate, taking our position in line. Well, slow relative to normal space travel. Propelled by freshly-repaired spells, the schooner moved along at a speed utterly impossible in an atmosphere, where the gas-filled envelope kept the ship aloft and air dragged at its bulk.

Watching the variety of other ships out there, each waiting its turn to transit, I wondered what it would be like if we were in one of the other ship types. Boring, I’d bet. They were all so ordinary, more like stereotypes of spacecraft than anything distinctive. Why not do something more interesting with your spacecraft than make it either ovoid, or boxlike? Come on, there’s no drag in space, why not have more creative and fanciful shapes.

Boring or not, the other ships made their transits in smooth succession, and I got to watch the way the spells handled each from the outside, with tendrils reaching out to a ship as it approached, touching and identifying, interfacing with shipboard systems, then pulling the ship in. Then a great flash, and the ship vanished, to come out the other end somewhere else entirely.

Our turn arrived. I saw the seeking tendrils come out, felt one catch onto me, watched them pull us right in. Then came the transit itself. It went fast, but I still managed to catch a glimpse of the pocket dimension we made the transfer in, then the hand-off to the spell-tendrils of the receiving gate. Awesome!

I think I could watch gate transfers all day. I grinned and shook my head at myself. What a ridiculous obsession, a branching off from the whole thing I’d had with transportation as a kid. But whatever, everyone needs some kind of interest to keep them going.

* * * * * * * *

Oh hey, look at that, you made it through the excerpt! Awesome. Have an image. This is, after all, the thing I’m supposed to promote.

firestorm_med

Coming soon, to an Amazon near you. 08/13/18.

What’s a… FIRESTORM?

Promo, Writing

Hmm. A Firestorm. Well, a personal answer is that it was a musical suite, a seven minute long symphony I played in a long-ago honor band, written to express the horror felt by the composer when he thought about the Allied fire-bombing of Dresden in WWII. Not ’cause the composer was a Nazi sympathizer or anything crappy like that. He wrote it because of all the beautiful art, architecture, music, and history that got destroyed. The word Firestorm, and all the crazy sounds that were rolled into that tiny symphony, have stuck with me since high school.

Okay, none of you care about that, but that’s one answer to the question. The more important answer is that FIRESTORM is the title of the novel I’ve been working on forever now.

Anyone read Eternal? No? Okay, go read it now. I’ll wait a week for you to finish it.

[time passes]

Right. You’ve read it. Now we’re all on the same page. Firestorm is the sequel to Eternal. It takes up the story of Kai and Jericho a few years down the road, eight to be precise. And guess what? After working on this sucker since NaNoWriMo 2016, otherwise known as November, 2016, it’s in the final editing stage. I think I might have even committed myself to a release date. That’s 08/13/18, if you’re curious.

It’s coming. It’s coming soon.

And because I’m feeling moderately evil, I think I’ll put up the cover image. Only… it’s not the cover image. It’s just a teaser. Because I’m a moderately evil author, mwahahahahaha!

firestorm_pre

Promo: Rainbow Romances

Promo

There’s a new short story anthology coming on June 1. It’s called Rainbow Romances, and proceeds will benefit the National AIDS Trust. Check it out!

Pre-order link:

Rainbow Romances

Image.png

About the stories:

Eight enchanting stories from seven authors showing that love really is just love.
M/M F/F and Bisexual characters.

Stripped Bare, by G R Lyons:

Though they both work as strippers for the gay nightclub, Matchmakers, Sev is convinced that Ty is out of his league. But that doesn’t stop him from trying to win the little guy’s heart.

Broken Defences, by G R Lyons:

After his work ruined one too many relationships, Beni Thaton has given up on dating, until he meets a very determined new student who pushes all the right buttons.

Online Casanova, by Michael Ferrante:

Michael didn’t believe in online dating. But after going through a few bad relationships he decided what’s the worst that can happen? People say you find the one you love when you least expect it. Well, Michael is certainly going to realise that on his journey to love.

Far Water, by Amir Lane:

Avery is on her way to Ohio after finally turning 18 and leaving foster care. On the bus, she meets a girl who isn’t what she seems.

Something To Hold On To, by Carmilla Voiez:

Jenny is a high-school student who’s in love with her best friend, Lucy. Unfortunately, Lucy likes boys. After numerous failed relationships, will Lucy be willing to redefine her sexuality, and think of Jenny as more than just a friend? Jenny is afraid to make her dreams come true and risk a broken heart.

Bedsitter Christmas, by Melanie Quinlan:

Delivers some fluffy M/M romance, set against the harsh backdrop of bedsitter land in 1980s London.

Until My Dying Day, by Sarah Beth James:

Francis struggles with moving from the reservation into a normal white city school when his mother falls ill. Dealing with bullying, death, homophobia and abuse before he meets the boy of his dreams in Xander. Who does everything he can to bring a little joy into Francis’s life. Cutting between current day, and their relationship with the past and how they got to be where they are. We follow a painful, yet fulfilling journey of how Francis’s life improved.

Selia, by Marolyn Krasner:

Selia is not living her best life. She is young and full of lust for the mail clerk, but she is not doing anything about it. The seeds of her lust start sprouting, forcing Selia to take action to improve her life and seek sexual healing to eradicate the pest threatening her personal ecosystem.