Posts Tagged ‘M/M Romance’

Today we are welcoming Rachel Haimowitz to Naughty Boys in the Backseat!

Rachel is the author of several M/M books with her latest, Crescendo being available now for pre-release.  She is holding a contest on her blog that we’ll talk about after the interview!

Here’s Rachel:

Rachel – Tough to say, since there are so many places I think I’d love but have never been to. I tend to like wild, isolated places, and my heart is very much in the mountains. My sister lived in Alaska for a few years, and I absolutely loved it up there. About eighteen months ago, I bought 30 very wild acres in the northwest corner of North Carolina, just four miles from the Appalachian Trail, and I can’t wait to build a house and move down there. Last fall, I went to several Canadian towns, mostly coastal, and a few along the Canadian Appalachians, and I loved them too. Though I admit it might be the access to health insurance that makes Canada so very, very attractive

Rachel – I recently released a collection of short stories set in the Anchored world titled Where He Belongs. (Though you don’t need to have read Anchored to enjoy or make sense of this collection.) It’s five vignettes, short and poignant. My publisher (Storm Moon Press) gave them the royal treatment–check out that cover!–and so far it’s gotten very good reviews from the major blogs. Even though the whole collection is only 6,000 words, it holds a very special place in my heart; I think it’s some of the best work I’ve ever done. (ed. cover artist is Nathie (www.creationwarrior.net)

Rachel Haimowitz:
Twitter: @RachelHaimowitz
Blog: http://rachel-haimowitz.blogspot.com/
Website: http://www.rachelhaimowitz.com/
E-mail: metarachel AT gmail DOT com

Title: “Apples and Regret and Wasted Time”
Author: Cornelia Grey
Publisher: Storm Moon Press
Release Date: May 27th, 2011
 

Blurb: He lives in the shadows of the law. Now, wounded and stranded in the city after a job only he could do, he has no qualms about climbing through the window his old lover left open—or stealing his shampoo, at that. He has, however, not taken into account the possibility of being surprised in the shower.

Three years is a long time to go between visits, especially if you’ve left so much anger and hurt and desire unresolved. They try to negotiate a truce for one night—over Chinese takeaway leftovers and apples, and between the sheets.

 

 

Guest post by Cornelia Grey

Bittersweet endings: ‘it’s complicated’

Cornelia Grey

Bittersweet endings: love them or hate them, they never fail to stir up a reaction. As for me – both as a reader and as an author – if I had to Facebook my relationship with bittersweet endings, I’d pick ‘it’s complicated’.

I tell myself I don’t really like them, that what I want for the characters is a full-blown, shiny, unicorns-and-rainbows-dipped-in-glitter happy ending to put all happy endings to shame. They deserve it, after all: I’ve come to love the characters, I’ve followed them in their ups and downs and after all they’ve been through, they deserve peace and happiness. They do. And yet, as the ending approaches, I find myself eyeing them furtively as a little, guilty part of me considers that it would be… too easy. Now, when I’m a reader, all I can do is lay back, keep reading and be quiet. But when I’m the author… my characters better start worrying, ‘cause I see a bad moon a-rising in their near future.

The curious thing is that, as a reader, I usually don’t like unhappy endings. When you’re reading a story, sometimes you can tell when an unhappy ending is coming, right? All along there’s a heavy, nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach, and then you’re not disappointed, there it is, the unhappy ending, roundhouse kicking you in the guts. Maybe you hope there will be something after, that there will be some hope, some hint that things might change, that they’ll get better, that somehow it won’t be… definitive. When that doesn’t come, you’re left wallowing in a pool of powerlessness, heavy and numb. You can’t even bring yourself to imagine that things might change later, because there was no window left open for you to imagine your own developments.

My endings, although not happy, aren’t that sort of ending either. That’s mainly because they tend to be more of a ‘to be continued’, even if I might never actually get around to writing that continuation, than actual endings. They might not be happy, but they aren’t unhappy either. They are more of a… work-in-progress. Things may be uncertain right now. Things might even be flat-out crap…. For now. The situation is in transition, and whether it will turn out for better or worse, it all depends on what will happen next. On what choices the characters will make, what they’ll make of it. It’s never definitive.

To be honest, I don’t really believe in definitive endings, not even when they’re happy ones. After all, nothing short of the death of everyone involved can ever determine a definitive ending. So whatever situation my characters are left in, it’s not forever. It might be the last we hear of them, but we know that they will be carrying on with their life and that things are bound to change, because the situation is too unstable to last.

My stories tend to have two leading threads: an adventure, which is the main one, and then the romance. Often the stories end when the adventure ends, but the romance side of it, the characters’ relationship, is little more than just begun. A happy-for-now of sorts. What next? Will they stick together, or shake hands and go their separate ways? I never tell. Sometimes, I don’t even know.

Sometimes, I admit, I don’t even give them that much. The adventure takes precedence and the characters have to shove their relationship to the side. They have other priorities, so for the moment it’s the relationship that they have to put on hold. That’s life, after all: sometimes, you have to squash feelings down to take care of more practical matters. But even then, the characters are always left in transition. They may not be together at the moment, but I’m never saying that they won’t patch it up. They will be figuring out their own solutions, a way to pick up the pieces and move on and manage to glue themselves back together. They might be scarred or glued in different shapes, maybe missing some piece they didn’t manage to scoop up from the ground. Still, they will move on and build something.

There are some tropes of the romance genre which I’ll never be quite able to abide, I suspect. One of them is the centrality of the love story in the characters’ life. Of course, the love story is intense and heart-wrenching and all-consuming… but it might not necessarily be the main focus of the characters’ lives at the moment. I am a little bit of a conflict junkie, I’m afraid, so I always tend to put my characters in quite the pickles. Having to save whole chunks of populations from evil militiamen, for example, putting a stop to a war that threatens to crush half of a country, saving children from being sold by mercenaries… they tend to have serious crap going on. That’s the heart of the story. And they will end up tangled in a love story, that will never make their life easier and that will never be at the top of their priorities list.

Does that take something away from that particular relationship? I don’t think so. I think that a love story can clash with the surrounding world, can even be half-crushed by it. That doesn’t mean it’s too weak a love, it doesn’t mean it’s less important than a love story that instead manages to conquer everything. Sometimes, love stories don’t end as well as we would like to, leaving us with the nagging need to know what next?, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste in our mouths. This bitter edge – the pea under the pile of mattresses that keeps you on edge, keeps you awake and moving and alive –  is what makes romance all the more intriguing and appealing to my taste.

Buy Links (to this work and two other works):

About Cornelia Grey:

Cornelia Grey is a student halfway through her creative writing degree with a penchant for fine arts and the blues. Born and raised in the hills of Northern Italy, where she collected her share of poetry and narrative prizes, she is now based in London. Her days are full and hectic: she reads, goes to flea markets, galleries, and the theater, and of course spends most of her time writing. When she’s at home, she likes to curl up with a book and the classic cup of tea and leaves chestnuts in the garden for the squirrel that comes around from time to time.

Cornelia loves to hear from her readers and can be found at the following locations:

Blog: http://corneliagrey.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Cornelia-Grey/100001604880385
Twitter: http://twitter.com/corneliagrey

Love On The East End

by Lily Sawyer

Publisher:  Wicked Nights Publishing

Gabriel Meyer’ s restaurant is a dream come true, but he gets more than he expected when in the course of his business he meets William Thomas, owner of Rolling Hills Winery. Food and wine more than come together on the east end of Long Island as they discover just how complementary Gabriel and William really are. Their seeming paradise is disturbed, however, when they meet young Ben Stewart—a troubled teen who is being bullied at school over his sexuality. Can they help this young man and fight the intolerance that lies on the east end of Long Island, or will it consume them?

Buy Love On The East End from Wicked Nights Publishing

Message from Lily Sawyer:

Hello, my name is Lily Sawyer and I never thought I’d be a writer.   I started off writing in fandoms.  My first was Star Trek.  After writing in other fandoms I decided to try my hand at writing an original story.    My very first book, “The Finest Thing”  is published with Dreamspinner Press  and can be seen HERE.

It opened up the creative juices and I’ve written two more books I am very excited to share with you.

Excerpt: Love on the East End

Gabriel Meyers looked at the empty dining room of his brand new restaurant.  He’d just opened the doors two weeks ago and already the place was packed every night.

While he loved the hustle and bustle of the lunch and dinnertime crowd, he appreciated the quiet the morning hours afforded him.  He used the time to do all the paperwork and phone calls, which were a part of running a place like Maven.

“Gabriel, we have a problem with the wine order.” Pierre came running into the room to inform him.  He was the restaurant’s sommelier, and Gabriel met him at the culinary school in Paris.  He was studying to be a chef and when he decided to open his own place Pierre was one of the first friends he told.

“Oh what now?”  It always seemed to be something, you’d think having your own place on the north fork of the east end of Long Island in the middle of wine country would mean having an endless supply of wine.  Sadly, it wasn’t the case.  Sometimes they had special clients that wanted certain things the restaurant didn’t always have on hand.  Like now they were looking for a special vintage of Riesling to go with the duck being served at a fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration, which was happening this weekend.

“The Pindar Winery won’t have any ready for about three weeks.”

“Have you tried the other wineries?”

“I tried the Rolling Hills winery, they said they’d give us a call back.”

“We can’t sit on our hands on this, we need that wine.  I’ll call them again to see if I can make any headway.  Thanks Pierre.”

Gabriel heard the phone ringing and ran back to the office to pick it up.  He wished he’d looked at the caller ID before he answered.

“Hello?”

“Gabbie!”

His stomach tied up in knots when he heard the dulcet tones of his ex-wife on the other end.

“Willow,” he said through clenched teeth.  “What can I do for you?”  He wished more times then he could count that he and the blonde with the blue eyes and movie star body had never crossed paths.

“Gabe, you don’t sound very happy to hear from me.”

Truth be told he wasn’t. Their marriage was the biggest mistake of his life.  They’d met in New York City, she was acting at a theater club and he was waiting tables.  They started off as friends, hanging out with friends and family.  Then ended up getting married.

Gabriel knew they had rushed into something that was never meant to be.  He did love Willow, but he was never in love with her.   He was gay; it took him a long time for him to admit it to himself, let alone to Willow.  He finally told her two years after they’d said ‘I do.’  She was stunned at first, then she told him she had a feeling something was different about him, but she hadn’t been able to put her finger on it.

They got a divorce, their story made the rounds with the tabloids.  Fortunately he was able to hide his secret of being gay, he was only too glad they left him alone and glommed onto her.

When one reporter intimated they’d split because Gabriel was gay, he asked an old friend from school if he could hang out with her to make it look like they were dating.  She was only too happy to help him throw them off the scent, even going so far as to make sure they were seen in public, holding hands and walking the streets of Brooklyn having brunch at a restaurant one Sunday morning.

“Willow, I’m kinda busy, what can I do for you?”

“Is that any way to talk to your ex-wife?”

He cringed when she said ex-wife, their divorce hadn’t been as clean a break as he would have liked.  She got nasty when he asked for the house on Long Island.  She had several properties; she barely spent any time there.  Her favorite spot was a condo on the upper east side of Manhattan.

“Well, I’m having a party to honor Chuck Scarborough, you remember my agent?  He’s celebrating thirty years in the business and I wanted to do something special.   He has a home not far from your restaurant and I want to rent out the back deck and hire a DJ and just do it up big.”

“How big?”  Despite how their marriage ended, Gabriel knew Willow could bring him a lot of big business with all the big wigs in the music and entertainment industry she could connect him with.

“About one hundred.”

“When?”  Maven could easily handle that many people.

“Weekend after next.”

It was spring and the weather was getting nice enough so they could start using the deck outside.  The restaurant faced Long Island Sound and on a clear day you could see Connecticut.

“How about I put you in touch with Annie, our party planner? She can iron out all the details. I don’t see any problem having the party here.”

“Thanks, Gabe, I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“Sure thing. Thanks for thinking of Maven for your party.”  They hung up.  He’d let Annie know about the party later, right now he had some Riesling to wrangle up.

****

William Thomas loved wine; there wasn’t anything he didn’t know about it.   His interest started when he took a trip to France and toured the wine country and it was like he finally found what he wanted to do with his life there in the middle of vineyard.   When he got back home he did everything necessary to begin his journey from a beginner everyone in the industry scoffed at to a well-respected wine maker.   Even his family, who were not thrilled with his decision to go into the winemaking business, became his biggest supporters.

Rolling Hills winery was the result of all the blood, sweat and tears.

William loved opening up the winery to tourists and often joined them in the wine tasting room.

Women came on to him all the time, he enjoyed the flirting.  But that was all it was ever going to be.    He wondered what these same women would think if they could see him dancing on the dance floors at one the gay bars on Fire Island.

He’d never had a serious relationship, content for years to play the field until he hit the big three-O six months ago.  Now he was looking for that special person, but it sure wasn’t easy to find him.  He decided if it was meant to happen it would happen.

****

Gabriel turned down the long linden-lined drive.   He parked in front of the quaint, Tudor style house at the end. He got out of the car, walked over to the fencing and looked at the rows of grape vines that went on towards the Sound.   There was just something about being out in the open air that made him feel so peaceful.

“Like what you see?”  A deep, sexy voice startled him out of his reverie.

“Oh geeze, you startled me.”  Gabriel put his hand over his beating heart, which beat even faster when he got a good look at the curly blond haired man that had snuck up behind him.

“Sorry,” the blond stuck out his hand.  “I’m William Thomas, owner of Rolling Hills winery.”

Gabriel grasped the proffered hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m Gabriel Meyers. I own Maven. I called about getting four cases of Riesling.”

“Ah yes my partner Steve told me you’d called.”

Gabriel didn’t know why hearing the word ‘partner’ bothered him, he’d just met William a moment ago and yet it felt like Cupid’s arrow had pierced him in the heart.

“I had them set aside for you.  They’re in the barrel room. How about I give you a tour of the place? I mean if you have the time.”  William flashed his pearly whites at him and Gabriel couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend more time with the tall blond.

William must have been about six-one or six-two.  He didn’t tower over Gabriel’s own height of six feet, but he still had to crane his head just a little to meet the chocolate brown gaze.

“I have plenty of time, the restaurant doesn’t open until noon.”

“Well, then, let me give you the grand tour.” William led him to one of the pickup trucks parked next to the house. They took a drive around the vineyard.  William explained the different varieties of grapes they grew and what kinds of wine were produced from them. He even got a chance to watch one of the grape picking machines at work, carefully picking the fruit off the vine and separating out the stems.

“I can tell you, Gabriel, that is one expensive piece of machinery.  Had to get it imported from Italy.”

“Really? Wow!”  Gabriel was very impressed. He knew about wines, after all you can’t live in Paris like he had and study culinary arts and not learn about them.  He wasn’t an expert like Pierre, but he knew enough to know how to pair them with food and not embarrass himself.

As far as the growing end, he knew little but he sure was getting an education now.

“Has this winery been in your family for long?”   The wineries on Long Island had started up about thirty-six years ago.   No comparison to the centuries old vineyards in Europe but they still had made their mark in the wine making industry none-the-less.

William laughed. “No I’m the only one in my family interested in wine.  My father is a lawyer and my mom is a fashion designer.  My older brother is a screenwriter.   He ‘s worked on a few movies, and he lives out in LA.”

“What made you decide to go into the wine industry?”

“I was going to school in northern California and my friends wanted to spend spring break in Napa Valley.   I just fell in love with wines and wanted to learn the business.  I came back to Long Island and started my own winery.  Rolling Hills is the result.  We’re celebrating our tenth year.”

“Congratulations!  Your family must be proud.”

“Thank.  Well I can’t say they were thrilled, but they saw the passion I have and they’ve been very supportive.”

They parked next to the house and William took him to the barrel room.  One of the workers took the cases of Riesling and put the in Gabriel’s car.

“Do you want to stick around for lunch?”  William offered his new friend.

Just then Gabriel’s cell phone went off.

“Hello?” Gabriel walked a few feet away from the other man.  “What! No I know I placed that order a week ago, what do you mean they don’t have a record of the order?’  He paused.  “Shit, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”   He shut the flip phone closed.  “Damn.”

“Problem?”

“Yeah, I had a champagne order that was supposed to be delivered this morning and they have no record of it.  I need it for an engagement party tonight.”

“I think I can help you out there, just hang out here for a bit.”  After Gabriel told him he needed some Dom Perignon, William went inside the house.  He returned a few minutes later with a smile on his face. “It’s done, I got you the champagne you needed.  It should be delivered to the restaurant in about an hour.”

“How did you manage that?”  Gabriel was surprised.

“I know plenty of people around here. There’s a place on the south fork that carries some wonderful champagne.   I got you a case.  Unless you wanted more?”

“No, a case is fine.   I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”

“Forget it, I was glad to help.”

Gabriel slid into the driver’s seat of his car and started the engine.   “Hey how about coming to our wine tasting event? We’re having it on Friday night at seven thirty.”

“Sure, sounds like fun. I’ll bring a good vintage from our special collection.”

“You can bring your partner if you want too.” Gabriel took off without waiting for an answer from William.  Truth be told he didn’t want him to bring anyone else, let alone his partner.   But it wouldn’t have been polite to invite him without his lover.

‘Why are the good ones always straight or taken?’ He asked himself as he drove, with a heavy heart, back to Maven.’

Buy Love On The East End from Wicked Nights Publishing

About Lily Sawyer:

Lily Sawyer has to credit her late mother for her interest in reading and writing. She used to take her to library and opened up to her the world of books. She took a writing class in an adult enrichment program and got hooked. She started off writing stories set in various fandoms she was interested in like Star Trek and Brokeback Mountain. After getting some encouragement from family members and friends, she finally decided it was time to write her own original stories. Lily recently returned to drawing and was in an art class. Also loves to garden and loves everything about nature. Including going to the beach and looking up at the stars.

Blog:  http://lilysawyerbooks.blogspot.com/

Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000265729063

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2959790.Lily_Sawyer

Catch of the Day

by Lily Sawyer

Publisher:  Silver Publishing

ISBN: 9781920484132

Keeping House

by Lee Brazil

Publisher: Breathless Press

ISBN 9781926930466

ASIN B004ZMVRYW

Mischa knew his brothers were up to something. He didn’t know it would lead him to Donovan Holloway and change his carefree lifestyle forever.

Donovan Holloway, advertising executive, newly made vice president of the company where he’s worked for twenty years, grew up in a free love hippie commune, taking care of the parents who should have been taking care of him. He’s worked hard to put himself through school and achieve the American dream. All he’s ever wanted was a normal family life–house in the suburbs, two cars, two kids, a shaggy dog. A family to come home to–to care for, and to care for him.

Mischa Blake is the green eyed, liberally-pierced, black-haired, Mohawk-wearing spoiled youngest son of a Hollywood producer and his actress wife. Mischa has made a terrible mistake. In a fit of childish pique, he’s accepted a dare from his older brothers. The dare? Live on his own, supporting himself completely for a year without accessing his trust fund. No problem. Except Mischa has never worked a day in his life, hasn’t finished college, and has absolutely no skills that he can bring to the table.

So when he sees Donovan’s ad for a housekeeper/gardener, he has nothing to lose by applying, because really…how hard can it be?

Buy “Keeping House” at Breathless Press , All Romance eBooks, and Amazon among other online retailers.

Guest Post from Lee:

Introducing: Keeping House~ A Story About Family, A Story About Love

Good morning Readers! After a glorious sunrise today, I’m sipping the coffee, and ready to talk about Keeping House. When I think back over writing this book, the scene I love most is when Mischa and his friends are unloading the U-Haul in front of Donovan’s house. Donovan, being the gentleman that he is, comes out to help them. Donovan can’t resist temptation, and kisses Mischa for the first time. First kisses are a magical thing in my book; I’ve always believed that kisses are more intimate a connection even than sex. After the kiss, Mischa thinks that Donovan was merely reacting to the display that his friends put on with their petting in the background. Ouch! That had to have hurt!

I’m from a large family, so I know exactly how the Blakes feel about their baby brother. Mine is over seas in the Navy right now, and I can tell you, there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t worry about him and what he’s doing over there. So, while I felt some degree of sympathy for Mischa and the plight he found himself in, I empathize most with Terry and Brandon Blake. Being an older sibling is almost as tough as being a parent. Terry and Brandon genuinely feel that they are doing their best to help Mischa, never realizing that their brother has dreams of his own that contradict their dreams for him. I know exactly how they felt, and that makes them less wicked manipulators and more men to be admired in my opinion.

I’m not sure where the inspiration for this story came from, except from the concept of family. As a family, my siblings and I often sit down to play a hand of cards or a game of some kind. Moments like that bind a family together. They are times for teasing, for sharing, for laughing and loving together. My fondest memories are of my Dad and Mom sitting down to play a rousing hand of cards with us. That’s where the poker game in the beginning came from. From there, it was natural to pair Mischa, a youth who didn’t really appreciate what a great family he had, with Donovan, a man who craved a family but didn’t really have a true concept of what family is.

BIO: I am a former English grammar and composition instructor who relocated from sunny Southern California to the countryside of Illinois a bit more than a year ago. I occupy my days here with gardening, reading and writing. Falling in love has been the biggest adventure of my life, and I hope to share that with readers through my writing.

Buy “Keeping House” at Breathless Press , All Romance eBooks, and Amazon among other online retailers.

Keeping House

by Lee Brazil

Publisher: Breathless Press

ISBN 9781926930466

ASIN B004ZMVRYW

Mischa knew his brothers were up to something. He didn’t know it would lead him to Donovan Holloway and change his carefree lifestyle forever.

Donovan Holloway, advertising executive, newly made vice president of the company where he’s worked for twenty years, grew up in a free love hippie commune, taking care of the parents who should have been taking care of him. He’s worked hard to put himself through school and achieve the American dream. All he’s ever wanted was a normal family life–house in the suburbs, two cars, two kids, a shaggy dog. A family to come home to–to care for, and to care for him.

Mischa Blake is the green eyed, liberally-pierced, black-haired, Mohawk-wearing spoiled youngest son of a Hollywood producer and his actress wife. Mischa has made a terrible mistake. In a fit of childish pique, he’s accepted a dare from his older brothers. The dare? Live on his own, supporting himself completely for a year without accessing his trust fund. No problem. Except Mischa has never worked a day in his life, hasn’t finished college, and has absolutely no skills that he can bring to the table.

So when he sees Donovan’s ad for a housekeeper/gardener, he has nothing to lose by applying, because really…how hard can it be?

Buy “Keeping House” at Breathless Press , All Romance eBooks, and Amazon among other online retailers.

Hello Readers!

Excerpt: Keeping House

“So, tell me why you want to work for me.” That should give him pause.

“I don’t. My brothers dared me to get a job, and it’s been a lot harder than I expected. I just came from a McDonald’s where the manager had a guy with a BS cleaning the toilets and an MBA flipping burgers. The economy sucks.” Mischa sounded dejected.

“Ahh.” He wanted a job on a dare? What the hell? Who told a prospective employer they didn’t want to work for them? “Let me tell you a little about the parameters of the job.”

Mischa gazed at him quietly, waiting. Maybe the daunting aspects of the task would send the kid the way of the first applicant. “You’ll be responsible for preparing meals. I eat breakfast at six, daily, take a boxed lunch to work, and expect a minimum of a three course dinner. Sometimes I have guests, and occasionally dinner parties.” He didn’t really, but threw out the possibility anyway. For a moment, he was distracted by the amusing vision of a room full of elegantly clad clients and coworkers staring in horror as a Goth-garbed Mischa, hair spiked and piercings glittering in the candlelight announced that dinner was served.

“Got it. Cooking. I can do that.” Mischa seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as Donovan of that fact.

“You’ll have to do the shopping. I don’t have time for things like that. Then there’s the cleaning. I expect the house to be spotless at all times.” He assiduously ignored the fact that the house was currently anything but clean.

Mischa wasn’t inclined to be so kind, though. He glanced pointedly around the kitchen, at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink, the debris from several takeout meals on the counter tops, and the unpacked boxes of kitchenware. “OK. Clean. I can do that.”

“I need the house put together, too. The boxes,” he waved around, “unpacked and stuff put away. The walls painted, furniture ordered and assembled and put in place.”

Mischa looked shocked. “You trust me to decorate your house?”

“No. I have the plans here.” He thumped the red leather-bound album that held the dream house drawings he’d labored on over the years on the marble counter. “I need my housekeeper to coordinate the workmen, decorators, deliveries and so on.”

More nods. “I can do that.”

Donovan stared helplessly at the kid. Stop calling him kid. It’s too pervy. What else? “References? Do you have references?”

Mischa bent over and the tight black t-shirt rode up as the skinny jeans inched down. Damn. All that creamy white flesh, hairless and smooth tempted him to reach out and touch, to examine the texture and resiliency. He wondered if there were any more shiny piercings hidden under that severe black garb.

“Hey,” Mischa was waving a handful of papers in front of his face, and Donovan flushed slightly. Could Mischa tell he’d been staring inappropriately at his exposed skin?

“I’ll, ahh, I’ll keep these. I need to call on them later.” He searched desperately for something, anything to turn the kid-man off the idea of working for him. Recalling the indignation and vitriol of the second applicant, he took a shot in the dark and threw it out there. “I’m gay.”

No response.

“I said I’m gay, a homosexual, a flamer.”

No response. Just inquiring green eyes locked on his face. Someone must have told the kid-man that eye contact was important.

“I sleep with other men?” Shit now he was making statements as questions.

The pierced brow rose slightly at that in an enigmatic gesture, but no response was forthcoming.

“This is a live in position. You don’t mind working for and living with a gay man?”

Finally, Mischa smiled. Donovan’s heart lurched at the sexy sweetness of that smile. The tiny silver hoop in his lower lip glinted seductively. Wonder how that piercing would feel when he pressed his lips to Mischa’s? It certainly drew attention to the swollen plumpness of the full red lower lip. Yeah–he really needed to get laid this weekend.

“No. I don’t mind working for a gay man, as long as you don’t mind hiring one.” Mischa’s smile was now a broad grin, and he settled back more comfortably on the barstool, as though he were suddenly making himself at home.

Sudden sympathy overrode Donovan’s concerns. Why not give the kid a chance? If Martin Weston hadn’t hired him to work in the copy room at his company all those years ago despite his being an underage gay hippie he wouldn’t be where he was today. He’d probably regret this, but it looked like the skater-Goth-boy/man had talked himself into a job. And the corporate advertising executive was sentencing himself to a series of cold showers.

Buy “Keeping House” at Breathless Press , All Romance eBooks, and Amazon among other online retailers.

About Lee Brazil:

I am a former English grammar and composition instructor who relocated from sunny Southern California to the countryside of Illinois a bit more than a year ago. I occupy my days here with gardening, reading and writing. Falling in love has been the biggest adventure of my life, and I hope to share that with readers through my writing. Not juicy enough for you? Well, I lived in the south for a while as a kid, and the southern really comes through sometimes. Most people already know I enjoy cooking, can’t dance, and read way too fast. My most common typographical error is to transpose the ng in words ending in -ing. Just kidding. That’s not juicy enough, either, is it? Oh, how about this? I believe kissing is the most intimate and meaningful act between lovers. I’ve made a study of it. *chuckles*

You can find me online at : Twitter Good Reads Face Book

Look forward to seeing you there!

In Dreams He Came

by Trina Lane

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

ISBN: 978-1-61581-883-9

With a very active imagination and passion for all things history, University of California senior and veteran on the swim team Gabriel Mason often finds himself traveling to distant lands and times. There’s always one constant in Gabe’s dreams: a nameless man whose love completes Gabe’s soul. Gabe is waiting for someone special in his “real” life as well, and his best friend Phil is determined to find Gabe his elusive knight in shining armor.

Nick Jackson, a university alum and Olympic swimming champion, immediately recognizes the quiet young man from the swim team and convinces Gabe to give them a chance at building something special. Considering the palpable attraction between them, Nick surprises himself by quickly agreeing to take their budding relationship slow. Unfortunately, real life is not a fantasy, and Nick’s demanding schedule as a professional athlete and Gabe’s obligations to the swim team and his degree make finding time to spend together difficult.

Have the two men found everlasting love, or will it all prove to be just another dream?

Buy “In Dreams He Came” by Trina Lane from Dreamspinner Press:  Ebook / Print

From Trina:

Hello Readers! I’m so excited to have to opportunity to have In Dreams He Came featured on Naughty in the Backseat. This book is special to me for several reasons, but a couple of them are that it takes place in Berkeley, CA only a stones throw away from one of my favorite cities San Francisco. I’ve visited northern California a couple times in my life and have wonderful memories and mementos. I wanted to write a book that took place there as a sort of tribute to my friends and family that call the California coast home.

The characters of In Dreams He Came are some of the most fun I’ve taken on. Gabe’s love of history is not simply his choice of academic study. It’s an elemental part of who he is as a man. But he also has a very romantic side to his nature. These two aspects combine and result in vivid dreams of castles and knights and finding his one true love. I loved writing Gabe and really getting to know the many layers that make up this unique young man. In a time where so many are concerned with the latest and greatest and driven towards instant satisfaction; Gabe is quite happy to watch the world go by drifting away in his daydreams, while still ducking his head down and focusing on his goals of being the best collegiate swimmer he can be and becoming a history professor so he can spread his love of the past to future generations.

I think my favorite part of the book is pretty much any time Phil, Gabe, and Nick are together. Phil’s personality is so much the antithesis of his best friend that the two of them together usually ended up being rather amusing. Some of the things that Phil said even surprised me as I was writing! Nick on the other hand is about as patient as one can find. He not only gives everything back to Phil, but is staunch in his protection of the man he loves. A man he calls “his sweet prince” Which is by no means a fluffy sentiment. To the couple, Nick’s term of endearment is very meaningful as it pays tribute to not only their love, but Gabe’s desire to find his one true knight in shining armor. Specifically the chapter in the book that makes me laugh each time I read is when the three of them are working out in Nick’s gym and when Gabe and Phil are in Nick’s apartment. The interaction between the three of them let’s you see them for the individuals they are, but still the closest of friends.

Thank you for the opportunity to talk you to you a little about the book and I hope the book takes you on your own magical journey. Who knows you may meet a knight of your own.

Buy “In Dreams He Came” by Trina Lane from Dreamspinner Press:  Ebook / Print

In Dreams He Came

by Trina Lane

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

ISBN: 978-1-61581-883-9

With a very active imagination and passion for all things history, University of California senior and veteran on the swim team Gabriel Mason often finds himself traveling to distant lands and times. There’s always one constant in Gabe’s dreams: a nameless man whose love completes Gabe’s soul. Gabe is waiting for someone special in his “real” life as well, and his best friend Phil is determined to find Gabe his elusive knight in shining armor.

Nick Jackson, a university alum and Olympic swimming champion, immediately recognizes the quiet young man from the swim team and convinces Gabe to give them a chance at building something special. Considering the palpable attraction between them, Nick surprises himself by quickly agreeing to take their budding relationship slow. Unfortunately, real life is not a fantasy, and Nick’s demanding schedule as a professional athlete and Gabe’s obligations to the swim team and his degree make finding time to spend together difficult.

Have the two men found everlasting love, or will it all prove to be just another dream?

Buy “In Dreams He Came” by Trina Lane from Dreamspinner Press:  Ebook / Print

Message from Trina:

Hello and thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to escape with me into the land of romance, friendship and ever-lasting love. In Dreams He Came is a tale of two men who manage to fight their way through all the frogs in the world, and end up kissing the right one to find their prince. I hope you enjoy their story, and it helps you to dream up a fairytale of your own.

Excerpt: In Dreams He Came

Gabe pushed at the heavy wooden doors to the pavilion and jogged down the steps. The lowering sun was bright over his left shoulder, and Gabe dug his shades out of his bag. He took a deep breath. Despite the shower, the lingering scent of chlorine clung to his skin. At this point, the chemical was probably bonded to the structure of every cell in his body. His times in the pool today weren’t bad, but not fast enough to be on target to reach his goal for the season.

His performance at their first meet against Nevada was disappointing, and their second meet against Cal Poly was in a couple of weeks. He was driven to step up his game. Gabe was determined to nail the backstroke spot on the two hundred and four hundred meter relay teams this year. A top eight placement in the two hundred yard freestyle and backstroke at the NCAA championships would be icing on the cake.

He would have loved to spend the night lazing around the apartment, but with taking twelve credit hours this fall, and practices and meets, his schedule was jam-packed. As with the tangible objects he often desired but his meager bank account refused to support, free time was a luxury Gabe couldn’t afford. He needed to visit the library and do some research for his paper in the Medieval England course he was taking this semester. As he took one step forward, his stomach rumbled loudly. Maybe some dinner first would be a good idea. He almost always stopped in the ProShop after practice to grab a bite, but Phil had gotten him so flustered in the locker room Gabe had stomped off in a huff, forgetting to grab his usual meal.

Gabe spun around and slowly trudged back up the steps. As he passed through the massive concrete portico of the building, Gabe paused with his hand on the handle to the door. Phil was still inside, and Gabe would most likely run into him. He didn’t relish having another one of their debates on Gabe’s lack of social life, but it was probably better to get it over with now versus waiting till tonight when he got back to their place. At least this way Gabe could concentrate on studying, and not fret over his friendship with his much more outgoing and charismatic room and teammate.

He made his way through the halls of the sports complex. When he reached the ProShop, Phil was standing next to the juice cooler with a furrow in his brow.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting here for five minutes.”

“I was on my way to the library when―”

“Your stomach reminded you that we spent the last two hours slogging through the water and demanded sustenance?”

Gabe ran his hand over the back of his still-damp hair. “Maybe.” He walked over to the row of glass door chillers. “Move over, will you? I want a―”

“Peach mango V8 Fusion?”

A low growl rumbled in Gabe’s chest. “That’s really annoying.”

Gabe shoved Phil to the side and picked out the juice bottle. He almost went for the pomegranate blueberry just to show Phil he wasn’t that predictable, but in the end he figured wasting meal plan credits on a disgusting drink wasn’t worth making a point.

“What can I say? I know you, Gabe. After practice you always have a V8 and chicken Caesar salad, hold the Caesar of course.”

Gabe took his items up to the counter and had the attendant swipe his Cal Card. Phil stood next to him, fiddling with the energy bars sitting next to the register.

“Tell me, why do they make energy bars with names like double fudge brownie and nutty butter crisp? Isn’t the whole point supposed to be that you are eating healthy? Not snacks full of saturated fats, sugars, and chemical preservatives I wouldn’t even use on my canvases.”

Gabe’s lips twitched, but he didn’t allow the smile to blossom completely. He was still annoyed with Phil. “Maybe even health-conscious people like to think they’re indulging every now and then.”

“I guess, but I still think they taste like processed chalk.”

Phil dropped the offending colorfully wrapped piece of chalk back into the display box. Gabe retraced his path toward the entrance, Phil walking beside him in silence. Gabe pushed open the doors for a second time, and slid his sunglasses down from the top of his head. Phil casually walked beside him, hands shoved loosely in his cargo shorts and flip-flops flopping on the pathway.

“So, are you going to give me the silent treatment all night?”

“No.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Not really.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to the library. You know that place that holds all the books?”

“Hey, I’ve been there once or twice in the last three years. My life hasn’t been all about pretty colors and arts and crafts playtime you know.”

Gabe laughed. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He never could stay mad at Phil. The man was a genius with a paintbrush, and his sculptures were undeniably mesmerizing. The first time Gabe had seen one of Phil’s bronze sculptures during freshman year, his breath had gotten lodged in his chest. The two-foot high idol had depicted a man in the throes of an orgasm. It was at that point that Phil had told him the inspiration for the piece had been a memory from the night of his high school graduation. His friend could frequently be found working alone in the studio till the witching hour, but Gabe still loved to give him trouble for his seemingly lackadaisical schedule.

“Name one class you’re taking this semester that requires you to actually crack a text book.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m taking American Art 1800-present.”

“Fine. Meanwhile I’m cramming together a course on the Ottoman Empire, a research seminar, a medieval England course, and History of the US: World War II to the Vietnam Era.”

Phil skipped ahead a few steps and spun around so he was walking backward, facing Gabe. He pointed at Gabe. “You are the one who wants to be a smarty-farty history professor. I, on the other hand, dream of a world filled with the feel of cool clay beneath my fingertips and endless splatters of paint staining my skin till I become a living rainbow.”

They were approaching the main building of the library system, and Gabe noticed that Phil was about to run into one of the stone balustrades that surrounded the classical revival structure.

“Hey, Michelangelo? Turn around.”

“Wha―”

“Now, Phil!”

Phil spun around, and ended up ass over teakettle as he flipped over the wide railing. Gabe burst out into laughter when Phil’s head popped up over the railing as if he were a prairie dog and looked around to see who had witnessed his elegant tumble. Gabe’s stomach hurt he laughed so hard, and tears tracked down his cheeks from beneath his shades. He clutched the plastic container holding his dinner, but his bottle of juice landed on the walkway and rolled several feet.

Buy “In Dreams He Came” by Trina Lane from Dreamspinner Press:  Ebook / Print

About Trina Lane:

If you look up the word conundrum in dictionary, there should be a photo of Trina Lane. A scientist with a passion for history, music, and photography, she loves to travel and experience new places but is terminally shy around people she doesn’t know. Trina has been devouring romance novels since her tender teenage years, although she only began writing a little over three years ago. Her choices in reading and writing material are as diverse as her iTunes library, which contains music from Mozart to Metallica. Her one concession is all stories must have a happily ever after ending—did we mention she’s incurably romantic? She lives in Missouri with her loving and indulgent husband and an orange tabby cat affectionately referred to as Houdini for his stealthy escape attempts.

trina@trinalane.com

www.trinalane.com

www.facebook.com/trina.lane.books

Twitter:@TrinaLane

Bless Us With Content

by Tinnean

Dreamspinner

ISBN-13: 978-1-61581-740-5

Ashton Laytham came to Fayerweather, his uncle’s estate, as an orphan at the age of seven. Family and servants alike perceived Ashton as an unlovable child and shunned him; as an adult, the occasional illicit rendezvous aside, Ashton remains aloof and alone. When his uncle dies, yet more abuse falls upon Ashton’s shoulders: the estate is bankrupt and Ashton must make good on his uncle’s gaming debts.

With the family talisman stolen and the suspects fled, Ashton faces certain ruin until the arrival of Geo Stephenson, who holds all of Sir Laytham’s IOUs. Geo proposes a solution: Ashton will accommodate him in his bed, thereby paying off the debt. Attracted to Geo in spite of himself and desperate for any human kindness, Ashton agrees… never expecting to lose his heart to a man who claims he will never give his.

Buy Bless Us With Content: (It’s on sale!) Dreamspinner Press / Amazon / Borders

Message from Tinnean:

Hi there! I’m Tinnean. Bless Us With Content is my first novel with Dreamspinner. It was a true labor of love, and I hope you’ll give it a try.

Excerpt: Bless us With Content

I was a child of seven the first time I saw Laytham Hall, too young to realize the country was in mourning for the passing of our monarch, King George III. I thought everyone was grieving the loss of my parents with me.

Laytham Hall was a large and sprawling pile of grey stone, with a small portico shielding the double doors that opened into the Great Hall. Nestled at the heart of Fayerweather, its somber facade was covered with ivy, and wintry sunlight sparkled on the frost that etched the numerous, paned windows, but lovely as it was, at that time it was not my home, and I did not want to be there.

The Laytham line had dwindled along with the family fortune until there were just three sons. Eustace, the eldest, would one day inherit the baronetcy. He had an unpredictable temper as well as a tendency to bully those who dared not fight back, and was not much liked by anyone, even his own parents.

Osburt was the youngest. In the normal course of events, he would have been destined for the church, but he was reputed to be wild to a fault and had been cast out of the family by the old baronet. After the passing of many years with no word from him, it was considered that in all likelihood his rake-hell ways had led to his death.

Archibald, the middle son, was my Papa. Grandpapa would have bought him his colors, but the military held no appeal to him, and instead, because his godfather left him a tidy sum, he moved to London and chose to spend his time trying to set the newest fashion in neckcloths and waistcoats and in racketing about Town.

There was still a goodly amount left of his inheritance when he met Mama whilst visiting with friends in the Cotswolds.

Mama was a vicar’s daughter, sweet-tempered and sweet-faced with the most lovely brown eyes, sadly hidden behind the frames of her thick spectacles, the last woman on earth one would think to attract my father. He persuaded her to elope with him to Gretna Green, and while his elder brother Eustace, who by that time had become 6th Baronet and the only surviving family member, shrugged indifferently, Mama’s father was livid – her destiny was to care for him, the vicarage, and his congregation, not marry some rakehell, and so he predicted gloom, doom, and penurious misery for her and her offspring and disowned her.

He was quite surprised when I did not arrive until two years later and grudgingly tried to make amends, but by that time the rift between him and Mama was too deep. She rebuffed his half-hearted attempts, and so I grew up with no contact with him.

That was why, when my parents were drowned in a boating accident while crossing the Channel when I was seven, I was sent to Laytham Hall.

“Oh, you poor child!” Aunt Cecily, Uncle Eustace’s wife, did not have children of her own. She enveloped me in a fragrant embrace, but it was not my Mama’s scent, and instead of returning her embrace, I held myself stiffly. Her enthusiasm dampened, she released me, and I could only be relieved.

“Well, you would insist upon taking him in,” Uncle growled at her. “Rude brat. Not much to look at either, is he?” A frown furrowed his brow, and he flicked a fingertip against the spectacles I perforce had worn from the time I was a tot and Papa realized it was not clumsiness that caused me to fall down stairs or walk into walls but my poor eyesight that was at the bottom of it.

Aunt Cecily sighed.

No, I was not a handsome child, but I had been loved. Would I ever be loved again?

Uncle snorted. “If it were not for the Laytham mark… ” On my forearm, it was the shape and size of a penny, and the deep red colour of the Flame. He’d roughly shoved up the sleeve of my shirt, and then had thrown my arm away from him in disgust, although I didn’t know why.  “… I would have wagered that Maria played my brother false. If we must have a brat about the house that is not mine, you will at least keep him out of my sight.”

Uncle took pleasure in blaming Aunt Cecily for the fact that after ten years of marriage, they were still childless.

Her mouth tightened, but she said nothing. Mama, as sweet-tempered as she was, would have taken Papa severely to task for speaking like that to her.

Mama… Papa… I missed them so much and wanted them back.

Aunt Cecily tugged the bell-pull, and within moments Colling, the butler who had come to Laytham Hall with her upon her marriage to Uncle Eustace, entered the room.

“M’lady rang?”

“Yes, Colling. Master Ashton will be residing with us. The nursery has been prepared. See to it that one of the maids has a care to him until we can find a nurse or a governess.”

I was too unhappy to protest that I was too old for a nurse and that I would much prefer a tutor to a governess.

Colling peered down at me from his great height, and I could tell he did not care for me. However, he nodded. “If you’ll come with me, Master Ashton?”

“Please,” I turned to my uncle and aunt, “I want to go home.”

“Do not snivel, boy! This is your home now,” Uncle Eustace growled. He was altogether too fond of growling, and I cringed away. “I do not wish to see him when I am at home, is that plain, Colling? You will inform the rest of the staff in this matter.”

“Yes, Sir Eustace. Master Ashton?” He took my hand and tried to lead me from the room.

Buy Bless Us With Content: (It’s on sale!) Dreamspinner Press / Amazon / Borders

About Tinnean:

I got my start posting fanfic stories online since ’99, gradually shifting first from m/f to m/m (hot boys! yum!) and then to all original!all the time. I have stories archived on Nifty, CRVBoy, and BoNN – Best of Nifty on the Net, and have been nominated for both Rerun and Light My Fire Awards. A New Yorker at heart, I reside in southwest Florida with my husband and two computers.

I can be contacted at tinneantoo@gmail.com, and can be found on Live Journal: http://tinnean.livejournal.com/ and on Facebook.

Final Encore

by Scotty Cade

Publisher:  Dreamspinner Press

134:  978-1-61581-657-6

When hunky aspiring country singer Billy Eagan heads to Nashville in search of his big break, a relationship and love are the furthest things from his mind. Taking a foreman’s job at the Lazy H ranch and not knowing how he will be accepted, Billy decides to fly under the radar and stay as closeted as he can without denying who he really is. It’s immediately confirmed that he made the right decision when he discovers that homophobia is still alive and well in Tennessee.

Then Billy gets his break and meets gorgeous record label executive Ian Dillon. Their worlds collide both professionally and personally, and Billy falls hard. But Ian is still haunted by the mysterious betrayal of his one and only lover, and knowing Billy possesses the power to emotionally destroy him, Ian decides to cut his losses and simply walk away. Determined not to give up on the man he loves, Billy secretly starts to unravel the past and quickly finds that it’s not what it appears. Can Billy rescue Ian’s heart, or will bigotry and hatred win over love?

Buy “Final Encore” by Scotty Cade:  Dreamspinner Press / Amazon

Hello – I’m Scotty Cade

Excerpt: Final Encore

BILLY‟S drive from New Orleans to Nashville was long and uneventful. The uninterrupted hours of interstate, with country radio stations fading in and out, gave him a great deal of time to plan a strategy, at least a short-term strategy. The first day he arrived he would find a hotel, look for a day job to help with expenses, and then look for a more suitable place to live.

As the first few days passed, he missed his family terribly but was nonetheless energized with the infinite possibilities of the unknown. Nashville was his new home, and for as long as it would have him, he was happy to be there. The first week, as planned, he searched the want ads for a position that would sustain him financially. He answered several ads and, within a few days, had a great lead.

The position was for a foreman at a large horse farm in Mount Juliet, just outside of Nashville, called the Lazy H Ranch. He set up an appointment to meet the owner at ten o’clock the next morning. It wasn’t his dream job, of course, but it would pay the bills until he found something in the music business.

When Billy turned in under the large iron arch etched with “The Lazy H Ranch,” he looked down at his watch to confirm he was right on time, nine forty-five. Billy drove down the dust-covered road, and after a half mile or so, he saw two large barns on either side of the drive with what looked like an old farm house that he assumed was used for command central. When he got out of his truck, he was looked over, more than greeted, by a rough and unfriendly looking sort. The man was short and stocky, carrying about thirty extra pounds on his frame. His skin was scarred from years of acne, and his teeth were stained from what appeared to be chewing tobacco, as indicated by the Styrofoam cup he spit into. Hoping this wasn’t the owner; Billy introduced himself and learned the man was a ranch hand named Buck Stevens. Buck directed him to wait near the east barn and someone would be with him shortly.

Billy waited around for about forty-five minutes, and no one approached him. He was about to go back and remind Buck that he was still waiting when he saw a tall, ruggedly handsome man walking in his direction. The man, who reminded him of an older version of the Marlboro Man from the old cigarette commercials, walked up and offered his hand.

“Hi, I’m Jules James. I’m the owner of the ranch. Are you William Eagan, by any chance?”

“Yes, sir, but I go by Billy.”

The two shook hands and looked each other over for a few seconds before Jules broke the silence. “I had just about given up on you, son. I thought your interview was at ten o’clock.”

“It was, sir,” Billy replied. “I arrived at nine forty-five, and Buck told me to wait at the east barn and someone would be with me in a minute. I was just about to go back and see Buck when I saw you walking over.”

“That’s funny,” Jules said. “I told Buck to have you meet me at the west barn. I have a mare about to foal and I want to be there in case there are any problems.”

“I’m sorry about the confusion, sir,” Billy said. “Would you like me to come back?”

“No problem,” Jules answered. “Why don’t you walk with me to the west barn and we can have a chat along the way.”

Buy “Final Encore” by Scotty Cade:  Dreamspinner Press / Amazon

About Scotty Cade

Scotty Cade left Corporate America and twenty-five years of Marketing and Public Relations behind to buy an Inn & Restaurant on the island of Martha’s Vineyard with his partner of fourteen years.   He started writing stories as soon as he could read, but only recently for publication.  When not at the Inn, you can find him on the bow of his boat writing male/male romance novels with his Shetland sheepdog Mavis at his side.  Being from the south and a lover of commitment and fidelity, most of his characters find their way to long healthy relationships, however long it takes them to get there.  He believes that in the end, the boy should always get the boy.

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