There’s a brand new interview with yours truly now listed on the Rainbow Reviews website. Pop by and check it out.

I found this meme too ironic not to take it and see what the results were.

You Should Be a Romance Novelist

You see the world as it should be, and this goes double for all matters of the heart. You can find the romance in any situation, and you would make a talented romance story writer… And while you may be a traditional romantic, you’re just as likely to be drawn to quirky or dark love stories. As long as it deals with infatuation, heartbreak, and soulmates - you could write it.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

This week’s interview is with Edward Patterson, author of the No Irish Need Apply, The Jade Owl and many, many others. Many thanks to Edward for agreeing to answer my questions and share a little about himself with you all.

 

Q: Hello Edward. First off, could you tell us what genre do you write in, and why?
A: All my novels are gay-themed. However, I like to say I transcend “genre.” I write fantasy, historical (Chinese), mysteries, horror and even romance. Although all my novels have gay characters, they’re just characters . . . and my children, actually.

Q: How long did you write before you received your first contract for publication?
A: I’ve been writing since 1960, but never pushed for publication as I had other ambitions. I received my first publication contract in 2000 for The Jade Owl from an on-line serial website, which promptly bellied up. I am now an Indie author, and loving every minute of it.

Q: So, if you don’t mind sharing, would you tell us about your latest work in progress?
A: I am currently working on Look Away, Silence, an romance in the time of AIDS, and also the third book of The Jade Owl series — The Dragon’s Pool, a light 700 pager, due out in May-June.

Q: Out of all the stories you’ve written, which is your favorite?
A: Without question, Turning Idolater, a whodunit romance about a young internet stripper and a middle-aged author. Somehow, in this mix I introduce an undercurrent of Moby Dick. Nothing has stolen my heart like that novel. I use it as my personal benchmark. Of course, readers favor No Irish need Apply, which has been named the Selection of the Month at Boz Allen Hamilton’s Diversity Readers group for June 2009, a prestigious honor that I hold close to my heart.

Q: Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow?
A: Actually, no. I just sit at the computer, now that the old upright typewriter has been tossed, and I slip into the zone. I must confess, I write more in my head than anywhere else. When I apply myself to the actual spewing of words, the words already have been fermenting.

Q: What’s the strangest source of inspiration you’ve found for a story?
A: Ah, that would be an upcoming novel, Green Folly, the retelling of the Jonathan, David and Saul story in a corporate diversity setting. It comes complete with the Witch of Endor. I also have a strange item in the front burner called The Road to Grafenwoehr, which I’ve decribed to those interested as “Stephen King meets Jane Austen.”

Q: If you could offer one tidbit of information for new writers, what would it be?
A: Be proud of what you’ve written, but remember, it’s not finished until you’ve revised it at least three times; more perhaps. If what you have written is precious, kill it. Readers want story and great characters, and not to bask in your turn of phrase. That’ll knock them out of your story. Listen to criticism, especially from professionals. They know. You don’t.

Q: Do you have an evil day job or do you write full time?
A: I have worked for the same company for 44 years. Not so evil really. I was a Marketing Director until 2002, when I downsized to posting cash on the general ledgers. However, my publishing works coincided with this wonderful downsizing. So, it is the best event ever to happen to me.

Q: What do you like to do in your spare time?
A: I sing. I’m an Opera queen. I read incessantly. For every hour of writing, I do an hour of reading.

 

Q: Name one thing readers would be surprised to learn about you.
A: That I am nearly blind in one-eye from Diabetes related glaucoma. When that eye goes, and the other one, which has cataracts, I guess I’ll need to name my seeing-eye dog. I’ll run a contest, perhaps. Good thing I can find the keyboard in the dark and have a fine proofreader, who donates her time to my works.

Q: What’s your favorite dirty word?
A: Fuck. How original, but actually, I love to transpose that word into a refined sentence like a diamond set in platinum.

Q: What’s your favorite holiday, and why?
A: Every day’s a holiday when you’re sixty.

Q: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
A: No tattoos. Not smart for a diabetic. I have four piercings in ye olde ears, 2 each, 2 of which hold my dearly departed mother’s diamond earrings.

Q: If you could be intimate with three people (not necessarily all at one time *g*) without getting in trouble with your significant other, who would they be?
A: Elijah Wood. Elijah Wood, and Elijah Wood. Pam Racine, forgive me, dear.

Q: If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things would you want with you?
A: My Kindle, a plug and a power plant (for the Kindle).

Q: If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you spend the money on?
A: I’d send it to Dafur and AmFar. I need nothing but my readers, and they shall not be bought.

Q: Which household chore do you abhor and why?
A: Laundry, because my washing machine leaks and I need to do the floor at the same time as the laundry.

Q: What’s your favorite comfort food?
A: Popcorn in the movies with extra butter and sour-cream flavored salt. Ah, an ode to diabetes.

Q: Do you have any guilty pleasures you feel comfortable sharing?
A: Badpuppy. ‘nuff said.

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?
A: Two birds with one stone. The Lord of the Rings – on both counts.

Q: Anything else you’d like to share?
A: As an Indie author, I appreciate all the support that the author and blog community has given to those of us who have decided to do it all ourselves. The stigmas placed on Indie authors are quite onerous, but they exist for various and irrelevant reasons. I am not a tortured author saddled with rejection. I have only received one rejection, and that one was so encouraging, my beta-readers encouraged me to launch out and touch readers directly. Well, it’s done and I would not do it any other way. That doesn’t mean that if a big publishing contract came my way, I’d pooh pooh it, because most Indie authors are just trying to reach their audience through a stiff curtain of an economically depressed publishing industry.

Q: In closing, tell us a bit about your latest release (& share a yummy excerpt for those who aren’t yet familiar with your work)
A: My last work, just released is The Academician is the first part of a four book series called Southern Swallow. It’s a fictional biography of a 12th Century Chinese scholar-official. I have a Master’s degree in Sinology (Chinese History and Culture) and part of a doctorate, so I’ve put that to use in many of my novels. The Academician is an adjunct to my The Jade Owl Legacy series, but also explores homosexuality during this lively period of Chinese history. It is my oldest project, 37 years in the making, and its out, thank heavens.

 

Excerpt from The Academician - Southern Swallow - Book I:

Chapter One
The Corpse of Pao Chin

1

A bigger fool the world has never known than I — a coarse fellow with no business to clutch a brush and scribble. I only know the scrawl, because my master took pleasure in teaching me between my chores. Not many men are so cursed by a scholar and saddled with the baggage of literary aspirations. Still, what I know, I know. What I have seen, I have seen; so what I scrawl is no more than a witness and a guess on how things grew along my path, which was his path after all. Now that he raises his spectral cup in the Dragon’s Pool with the Other, I can do little but sit on the riverbank, boiling the fish soft for my toothless repast and serve destiny with these recollections. Better men have managed it, so I am doomed to failure. So we begin with a flourish of the brush — with a big Nan and a giant Ya, my master’s pen name — Southern Swallow. Then, we commence with . . . an ending. In fact, without an ending, this story could not begin; and it began at Su-chou inside the Superintendent’s official residence.

2

A gadfly buzzed in the courtyard watching the Superintendent work. The place seemed deserted. While the city market hummed just over the Ya-men wall, the great official appeared engrossed in his industry — perusing memorials destined for his superior in Yang-chou, a critical eye, who examined every character for proper usage. Perusing every document, from petty requisition to execution warrants, served the Superintendent’s best interest, although the gadfly buzzed.

Xin Ch’u, the chief clerk of the Ya-men, took his ease in the doorway behind the sandalwood screen. It was stifling indoors, yet he knew that to make his presence known to the Superintendent would immediately enlist his aid on the papers at hand. It was better to stall here in semi-shade and watch the official toil. There would be plenty of tasks for Xin Ch’u’s staff, but why suffer the imposition now? Xin Ch’u’s several chins ran wet. His fan gave him scant relief. As he watched, he saw an inviting bowl of wine on the Superintendent’s desk. It would be tepid, and might even heat his blood, but Xin Ch’u longed for it. His own larder was far off, at least a quarter hour’s walk, so Xin Ch’u hoped that if he presented himself before his liege-lord that he could avert the tasks if not preempting some of the glorious wine. He fluttered his robes, airing his soaked vestment, and then prepared to enter the courtyard like a man lost in the summer heat.

Then, he heard the gadfly. So did the Superintendent, who gazed up from the scrolls. His brush outlined the fly’s trajectory as it buzzed about the desk, landing on the ink block. Xin Ch’u halted, still unseen by his lord. The Superintendent fluttered his hand across the block, his fingers flicking the air. He did this three times, and then rose slightly from his chair. He grasped his chest. He choked, and then sprawled across the desk. A slight man, he brought no harm to the desk.

Xin Ch’u observed these things calmly. He pressed forward slightly until he heard the gadfly’s buzz. It hovered over the Superintendent for a short spell before nestling in his ear, perhaps to sing a last song for His Excellency. A slight smile blossomed on Xin Ch’u’s lips. He walked around the desk, scanning the man and his workload. There was little doubt of the condition, but still if a mirror could be clouded, the guards must be summoned — the doctor would be fetched and the courtyard would fill with a plethora of assorted busybodies, all seeking news and . . . well, the spoils of death. That wouldn’t do, not for Xin Ch’u. He sneered at the Superintendent’s helpless form, and waited for a last ditched burble or fart. None came, so the chief clerk reached down for the glorious wine and drank the bowl dry.

“Dead,” Xin Ch’u said. “What a bother. Another one dead.” He looked about for more wine, but saw none. “At least this one has not left posterity to complicate things.” Xin Ch’u was a hefty man— quite able to lift the Superintendent from the desk and carry him to a more dignified locale. However, the chief clerk’s instincts were focused on the importance of him being in charge. He poked around the table for various small riches — an ink plate, a fine brush and a lovely vermilion sealing pot. These quickly vanished beneath Xin Ch’u’s robes. He continued to probe, even to the Superintendent’s hair comb, when suddenly he spied something shiny. A silver ring on the dead man’s middle finger just beneath the gadfly that had rested on the knuckles and sucked on death. The ring was simply set with an emerald at its crest. It was a handsome reward for the clerk. A few twists and Xin Ch’u pulled the signet over the Superintendent’s long fingernails. It was heavy in the hand, much heavier than it appeared on the finger. The clerk slipped it on, and then quickly cast a glance about the courtyard assuring that no one watched. Safe. Xin Ch’u raised his hand to the fading light.

“Brilliant,” he said. He sneered, gazing down at the man who was his overlord. “More brilliant than you were, Pao Chin. This is my reward for diligence. I had forgotten that you had such a treasure.” He had spied it once at court, but mostly it hid under robe sleeves, or bent to the angle of the brush. Xin Ch’u raised it higher. “Now, as I look at it in a better light and on a better finger, I will not think much of you, Pao Chin.” I do not think anyone will ever think much of this man, he thought. The Superintendent had been grafted on the scene. Everyone knew that the clerks ran the Ya-men, and everyone recognized that Xin Ch’u ran the clerks.

Someone was coming. Xin Ch’u slipped the ring from his finger and into the larder hidden beneath his robes. He assumed a pose of alarm. Less so when he saw it was his lieutenant, Mao Fei. Mao squinted as the sun’s Western decline now cut across the courtyard. He shaded his eyes, sniffing like a dog. He walked like a scarecrow if a scarecrow could walk.

“Xin Ch’u, is there anything amiss?”

Xin Ch’u sighed. “Nothing is amiss, Mao Fei. Pao Chin is dead, that is all.”

“The superintendent is dead?”

“Dead,” said the chief clerk.

Mao Fei circled the body. He prodded it with his fan as if he were waking the man from a late afternoon snooze. When Pao Chin failed to arise and dance the harvest fling, Mao Fei smiled. He may have even given a chuckle, but it was hard to tell with the man. He was as creaky as a hinge. “This is most inconvenient,” Mao Fei said. “Most inconvenient, indeed. But are you sure he’s dead?” He prodded some more, but was really looking for loot. His pouty, thin lips showed disappointment. He probably knew that if he had come upon Pao Chin as he collapsed over the desk, he would be more the richer and Xin Ch’u as barren as Mao-tien’s old ox.

“Most assuredly,” Xin Ch’u confirmed. “Pao Chin is dead.”

Mao Fei blinked. “But how did it happen?” He peered under the table. “Did he perform the death ritual?”

“Do you see any blood?”

“None.”

“He was working, as he always has, and then there was a . . . gadfly.”

“Gadfly? He was killed by a gadfly?”

“I suppose so. I mean, he waved it away and must have strained his ch’i, because he just slumped across the desk.”

“And the fly?”

“Survived. I saw it on his . . . well, I saw it.”

“You let it live?”

Xin Ch’u shrugged. “I have done many things in service to this Ya-men. I shall not become the minister of fly swatting.”

He thought on this for a moment, and then began to chuckle, his chins shimmering in the golden light of sunset. Mao Fei cackled. It was a rare moment in the comraderie of these men. They had served in many capacities in this place — served many lords, but never considered being on insect patrol, until now. Alas, too late, because Pao Chin was dead.

3

Pao Chin is dead.  Or I should say, was dead. Well, that would mean he is alive, but he is dead. I can most assuredly state that case. Pao Chin died and that is a good thing for this story, because without his death, my master would not have taken his place as the Superintendent of Su-chou. Timing is everything, or so I have been taught through this fateful existence I lead. With death comes vacancy. Vacancies must be filled — opportunities gained.

My master, the revered scholar Li K’ai-men, had just passed the regional examinations for office. He had attained the highest possible grade, a distinction aided with much vigilance by your humble servant, who filled his soup bowl and empty his piss pot during the interminable days he was pocketed in the examination cubby. But he did well. More than well. First place. He was marked to receive an immediate post, a position sufficiently grand for such an achievement. So Pao Chin’s end became . . . Li K’ai-men’s beginning.

I was a young pup then, attending my master’s every whim. What did I know? I, K’u Ko-ling, son of K’u Fei, a lowly son of the soil from Gui-lin. All I knew was what my master taught me. He showed me how to mix the ink, to prepare the brushes, to boil the soup, to pay the whoremistress, and . . . and I loved to spy on that. I could tell you much, and probably will, but everything in its time and place. Little did I know how much I would learn in service to a great scholar and a man of high governmental rank. I probably learned more than half of the piss-ant bumblefuck sons of scribblers that roam the land from town to town with petty services and warrants.  I had warrants of my own. But all in time. Everything to its time and place.

My master, Li K’ai-men, was to be the Superintendent of Su-chou. What an honor that was. He would rule over an important district. First appointments are usually a shit-hole in An-hui or a cold, ball-chilling hut on the Yen border, but not for my master. He drew the bastard plum — Su-chou.

I think that Pao Chin’s death was for the best. The gods were good that day. I did not know the man, nor would he have known me. Yet, I feel so intimately grateful to him for passing on to his ancestors that I could swell with joy when I think of his life, long and healthy, fat and greasy, sated and mated until the end. Never was there such a well deserved or well timed

death as his.

The Academician is available for purchase at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/144149975X For more information about Edward and his work, please visit his website: http://www.dancaster.com/

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve read a lot of good books. I thought I would share two of them with you today. Two that stand out above the rest. You mileage may vary, but I enjoyed both novels quite a bit.

When Irish Eyes Are Sparkling by Tom Collins & Thirteen

Liam O’Shaughnessy wasn’t expecting to fall in love again, not so soon after yet another artful break up. Then Oliver Sutton, paramedic in training, walked into his Aunt’s Irish Pub, and shocked Liam’s wounded heart back to life. The fiery eyes were irresistible; the magnetic draw between them was undeniable, but the man himself was an enigma. Still, Oliver had much to teach Liam, and Liam was a very willing pupil.

Oliver Sutton only expected to have a brief, summer fling with Liam O’Shaughnessy, but as the young waiter eagerly learned all about gay sexual pleasure, Oliver felt less and less willing to give him up. Yet Oliver knew the relationship could not last. Sooner or later, Liam would come to know Oliver’s other, less civilized self, and that would be the end.

Unbeknownst to Oliver, however, Liam, too, had another self, one he also was keeping secret: his twin.

By Degrees by JB McDonald

Tim and Conner have been best friends since childhood, when Tim was orphaned and Con’s father jailed. Throughout tumultuous years they’ve been there for each other, over email, the phone, and occasional visits. Tim figures things can only get better when his best friend announces he’s moving to the same city.

Con has been in love with Tim since high school, but knows not to say so–at least until a robbery puts him in the hospital, and morphine loosens his tongue.

The last thing Tim wants is a relationship. He’s prepared to flee, but Con refuses to lose his friend that easily. They’ve been together through thick and thin, and he’s prepared to show Tim that they’ll stay together through it, too–even when life and love change things irrevocably.

Your Love is Based on Affection

Your need for love is very primal and basic. You can’t imagine living without love. And for you, love is something that’s best expressed through touch. You’re always up for a hug or a cuddle. And you feel a bit rejected when you don’t get enough affection. Whether you’re sharing a blanket or sharing an order of fries, you thrive when you’re close to the person you love.Why your love can last: You express your love freely and frequently Why your love can fail: You can come off as clingy, and this freaks people out

What Is Your Love Based On?

Today’s interview is with new author, Ethan Day. Ethan’s first novel, Self Preservation, recently debuted at Loose Id.  

Q: Hello Ethan. Could you tell us all what genre you write in, and why?

A: Most of what I’m writing is a contemporary romantic-comedy style genre, although I am trying my hand at a paranormal/historical piece. I’ll probably stick with contemporary for the most part. I write about what I like to read about, Gay men who are looking for love. I think relationships are funny, so I guess my writing is tinged by that point of view. Some writers might take the subject of stalking your ex-boyfriend to a darker, scarier place. I tend to go for the slightly nutty, neurotic, I Love Lucy style. If the individual reading my book wants to get into the car with my character and help them stalk that ex-boyfriend, then I’ve succeeded.

Q: So, if you don’t mind sharing, would you tell us about your latest work in progress?

A: I’ve got a lot going on at the moment. My second book, Dreaming of You should be coming out within the next few months from Loose Id. It’s yet another contemporary Rom/Com, about Aden Ingle, who’s in love with 2 men. The man he always thought it was his destiny to meet…the man from his dreams, and Logan, the real life man who could be more than he ever dreamed possible. I’m also working on the sequel to Self Preservation, two other contemporary novels, and the one Historical/Paranormal themed novel. I got a lot of voices in my head. Isn’t it nice that as writers we can say we hear voices and not get tossed into an institution? I love that!

Q: Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow?

A: Sometimes that can help, but it isn’t always necessary. I think music can help. I need to work on setting up some playlists for when I’m working on particular scenes. Music definitely can help get me in the proper mood. Reading another book, TV Show, or Movie that always puts me in a certain mood can help as well. Sometimes, though it just comes out, no assistance required. I do listen to a lot of 80’s pop music and a lot of club/dance music when I’m trying to write funny. It can be distracting at times, cause I’ll register a song and decide to get up and dance around my office. I usually feel sillier afterward which I think is helpful. Of course, I’m a terrible dancer…so I keep my spasms/dancing confined to the privacy of my home.

Q: What’s the strangest source of inspiration you’ve found for a story?

A: There’s no such thing as strange source of inspiration. I’m usually just glad it shows up at all. Grateful, like when you find that twenty dollar bill in your laundry or a coat or jacket you haven’t worn in a long time.

Q: What do you like to do in your spare time?

A: Spare time…what is this spare time you speak of? I do not know of this. : )

I’m still a newbie myself, so trying to navigate the waters of self-promotion and writing. The Yahoo Groups can be intimidating in the fact that each group has its own rules for posting. I’m always afraid I’m going to do the right thing in the wrong group!!

Other than that stress I enjoy talking directly to readers, I think that’s cool as shit, and never something I even considered as being a possibility. As much as I piss and moan about technology and how it’s stripping away all of our social skills in addition to making it more difficult to find love(just my opinion), it is super cool that authors and readers can ‘hook-up’ so easily.

Q: Name one thing readers would be surprised to learn about you.

A: I’m actually Amish!! LMAO

Kidding!! I don’t know how to really answer that. I’d need to know what readers know or think they know about me. LOL! Did that sound all Dr. Suessy or what?

I already admitted to being a horrible dancer, there’s one gay stereotype I don’t fit. I also have terrible gay-dar!! This is a bit of a sore spot with me! I’ve always been a little pissed about it, cheated. I feel like a DVD player that will play the movies you want, but won’t let you fast forward. I mean…what is Spider Man without his Spidey Sense??

Q: What’s your favorite dirty word?

A: Fuck! Live it, love it, learn from it. It’s all encompassing and so damn versatile.

Q: What’s your favorite holiday, and why?

A: Thanksgiving…cause it’s halfway between Halloween and Christmas.

Q: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?

A: No way!! I have a totally irrational fear of needles. Yuck! I don’t mind it on someone else, though. As long as it’s not a tongue piercing or a…um…shoot. What’s it called, a king something, Harley something…I can’t think of the name, but the one in the um…foreskin, if you get my drift. There are two places I just don’t want any metal, and I’ll leave it at that. LOL…feel free to delete all this…it may be TMI!! LMAO

Q: If you could be intimate with three people (not necessarily all at one time *g*) without getting in trouble with your significant other, who would they be?

A: Well hell, Amanda. First I need to find a significant other so I’ll have someone to piss off. LOL

I don’t know, I think I’ve had plenty of intimate encounters at my age. I’d like to find the-one, or at least ‘one’ of the-ones. But in terms of the type of guy I like, I don’t really have a type. I’m an equal opportunity Homo. : )

Q: If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things would you want with you?

A: Hmmmm…a hot man who’d know how to survive, cause lord knows I’d be dead within a week otherwise. A deserted cabin for us to live in, cause I’m more of an indoor boy. And a Quiznos…I mean really, life’s just not worth living with out a good sandwich. I’m greedy…does it show?

Q: If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you spend the money on?

A: Getting myself out of debt. If there was actually anything left after that…I’d probably give the bulk of that to my family. I wouldn’t have time to write if I were out spending money all the time.

Q: What’s your favorite comfort food?

A: Chocolate for sweet, Chinese for savory.

Q: Do you have any guilty pleasures you feel comfortable sharing?

A: I’m a total TV Whore. I know…writers aren’t supposed to say that, but I do love my “programs” as my Grammy used to say. I love to record shows like Dexter, Damages, Gossip Girl, The Closer and then take a Saturday and flop down on the couch and watch them all back to back. The hours you save by not having to sit through the commercials alone…it’s amazing. Plus you don’t have to wait till next week to find out what happens.

The shows I really love, I’ll buy on DVD and watch them over and over. Buffy, Alias, Lost, Gilmore Girls…I think I’ve watched all 7 seasons of Buffy at least 4 or 5 times. I just love that show…so damn funny. And Gilmore Girls, some of the best, snappiest, fast-paced dialogue since His Girl Friday, anyone who has trouble writing dialogue should go rent the DVD’s and watch this show, especially the scenes between the Mom & Grandmother.

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?

A: I like old movies…and by old, I don’t mean Pretty Woman or Titanic, LOL. The 30’s – the 50’s. Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, Rita Hayworth, Doris Day & Rock Hudson…I never get tired of watching Bringing Up Baby, Gilda, or Pillow Talk.

As far as books, there’s a lot to choose from. In terms of gay characters, I’d have to say Michael Tollivar from Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City was probably the first gay guy that read about and really connected to. He was a totally mis-guided man-ho, but he wanted to fall in love soooooo desperately, it just made me ache right along with him. I saw a lot of myself in that character, especially when I was younger and just coming out.

I was in my early twenties when I read it the first time, and waiting tables in a fine dining restaurant. One of the customers, and elderly woman at that, brought me her copy to borrow and read. She had kept saying for several months when she’d come in to eat that she was going to bring me a book to read, and then one day she did. I’ll never forget her for that.

It really is such a strangely odd sensation when your reading a book and see yourself - the whole you - mirrored back for the first time. It’s very comforting and makes you feel like you belong to something bigger. Somebody else out there feels just like you. Hopefully something I write can be that for someone else someday. That would be really great.

Wow, guess you wound up catching me on an oddly serious day, LOL. Must be the daylight savings losing-an-hour, thingy.

Q: In closing, tell us a bit about your latest release (& share a yummy excerpt for those who aren’t yet familiar with your work)

A: Self Preservation is my current & first release. I wanted this book to be a lot of fun and still have a lot of heart. I’m pretty darn satisfied with the end result. I laughed so much while writing S-P, it was a lot of fun for me as well. That’s part of the reason I’m writing a second installment.

I think it’s also really cool that in the responses I’m getting, readers seem to be having a good time with these characters as well. I love that people have favorite characters, but they aren’t always the same one. That’s probably the best compliment I’ve ever had, and thanks to everyone who took the time to let me know you enjoyed reading it. I sincerely appreciate that.

I’m terrible at trying to summarize, so I’ll just let the blurb and excerpt speak for itself.
Thanks again for the interview Amanda…I appreciate you allowing me to blather on for a while!

Blurb:
Davis always assumed they would wind up back together, until Jack
calls and invites Davis to his wedding to Tadd Austin, a prominent
architect in Chicago. Jack’s only known Tadd for two weeks, so
whatever Jack feels for Tadd couldn’t possibly compare to what he
shared with Davis. There’s no way in hell Davis can stand by and
watch the life he always expected to get back slip away to some guy
Jack barely knows. Tadd Austin, indeed…more like Toad Ass-ton, Davis
thinks.

With his best friend, fashion designer Deseree Wildwood in tow, Davis
has to shed his sweet, guy-next-door persona, and re-vamp his image
into a self-confident, hot piece of eye candy. He’s going to the
wedding with only one goal in mind: to do whatever it takes to win
back Jack. The Toad is toast!

Once in Chicago, Davis discovers it isn’t going to be as easy as he
thought. Not only is Tadd very un-Toad-like, but a mysterious British
playboy named Alex Parker manages to interject himself into the mix.
Only true love will survive as the tug of war ensues in this Bermuda
love triangle from hell.

Excerpt:
Deseree placed her hand on Davis’s back. “I’m going to go find the
bathroom.”

“Okay, I’ll wait right here.”

Deseree disappeared into the crowd as Davis surveyed the bar to see
if he could spot Jack. A beefy, shirtless guy in jeans with black
leather chaps slowly made his way past Davis while staring at him
greedily. Davis smiled weakly and turned back to face the bar,
grabbing his shirt collar as if he feared the man might sexually
assault him. The guy walked away and Davis shook his head.

“Stare a little closer, fucker,” Davis mumbled, feeling slightly
molested.

“Quite a nasty tongue you have there,” said a deep voice from behind
him.

Davis whipped around and found himself looking into the throat of a
man who stood at least six and a half feet tall. Davis felt his face
turn beet red. “Oh, I…so sorry.”

“No need to apologize, I rather fancy a nasty tongue.” The man
offered his hand. “Alex Parker. I saw you earlier at the party.”
British, thought Davis.

Davis shook his hand and looked Alex over. He was strikingly handsome
with a long, lean body, accented by dark hair and dark eyes. Davis
estimated his age at thirty-seven, give or take. While he was
impeccably dressed in a dark suit, he somehow projected an ease, a
casualness. Davis smiled at him, admiring the dichotomy.

“I’m…”

“Yes, I know,” Alex said with a sly smile. “I asked around about you
at the party.”

“Really? And what did you discover?” Davis asked as he turned to move
forward in the line.

“I’m ashamed to report, other than your name, nothing.” Alex lightly
touched Davis on the arm and added, “Which has made you all the more
appealing.”

Davis laughed as two guys passed through the line, knocking him face
first into Alex. He caught Davis to keep him from falling. Feeling
Alex’s hand on his ass, Davis grabbed his shoulder, pulling himself
back up. The two men laughed as they looked back.

“I’m fine…thanks.” Davis shot them a nasty look as the guys walked
off without so much as an apology. “Rude fuckers.”

Alex laughed as he smoothed out Davis’s jacket. “That filthy mouth of
yours is delightfully charming.”

“Well, I aim to please,” Davis said, still irritated.

“Really?” Alex asked, looking into Davis’s eyes entirely too
seriously. “I think I’m in love.”

Davis paused for a moment before laughing. “Do guys actually fall for
that?”

“No go, huh?” Alex asked with a frown. “Bollocks.”

“Has that ever worked for you?”

“Yes, actually… I’ve found most men find me utterly irresistible.”
Alex placed a hand on his stomach and added, “Especially when I’m
making an ass out of myself.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that one,” Davis said, a little
unsure what to make of him, even though he loved the way the word ass
sounded in Alex’s accent.

“Wise decision,” Alex said, stepping forward as they were now only
one person away from the bar. “It’s good not to make snap judgments.
And fear not, I have a wide range of ass-like behavior with which to
impress.”

“As well as a fondness for the word ass,” Davis said, raising his
eyebrows.

“Yes,” Alex said with a devious grin, “and you seem partial to the
word fucker. Together we make ass fu –”

“All righty.” Davis scowled, patting Alex on the chest. “I think I
get it.”

“See how utterly perfect we are for one another?” Alex asked
earnestly. “You…complete me.”

Davis smiled despite himself as he turned to order a martini and
cosmopolitan from the bartender for himself and Deseree. He paused
momentarily and rolled his eyes before turning to ask Alex what he
would like to drink.

“I’ll have a dirty martini as well.” Alex grinned. “Thank you.”

“What’s going on here?” Deseree asked, unnoticed by Davis until that
moment.

“Deseree, meet Alex. He’s an ass man.”

“I’m kinda partial to a nice ass myself,” Deseree said, smiling.

Alex pointed to Deseree and ran his finger up and down in the air
over her frame. “Loving you.”

“Yeah, well…what’s not to love?” Deseree said, staring longingly at
her drink as she took it from Davis.

Davis picked up the remaining two martinis and handed one to Alex.
The three of them got out of line and moved over to occupy three bar
stools to the right. Davis spotted Jack and Tadd walking through the
bar and set his glass down in front of Deseree.

Purchase your copy here:
http://www.loose-id.com/prod-Self_Preservation-882.aspx

Copyright 2009 Ethan Day

For more info on me, please visit me on my website:
http://www.ethandayonline.com

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Trade paperback

ISBN: 978-1602728899

Now available at…

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Amanda Young, best-selling author of gay fiction, brings you two tales of torrid love between men.

Previously available only in electronic format, these steamy novellas have now been combined for a paperback edition! Included are the stories…

Furtive Liaison
A “quickie” is all Shawn Delaney wants when he meets Marc Wright at a XXX bookstore. Instead, he discovers instant, explosive chemistry with a man with whom he has nothing in common. The last thing he wants is a long-term relationship with anyone, much less an impulsive guy sporting chipped black nail polish.

To a workaholic like Shawn, “love” is a four-letter word, until Marc strolls into his life and turns it upside down in the best way possible. And for the first time in his life, Shawn isn’t concentrating on work.

But the discovery of a simple yellow rubber ducky in Marc’s luggage sends Shawn on a downward spiral of confusion about his lover’s history and fidelity, and eventually, it leads to heartbreak. Has their entire relationship been nothing more than the illusion of happiness, or could there be more to Marc’s betrayal than meets the eye?

Precious Ache
Falling in love was his biggest mistake…

Abandoned as a child, Dave Blanchard learned to be self-reliant at an early age. Puberty brought a distressing attraction to other boys, and an abnormal growth spurt that drove Dave further into his shell. Adulthood granted him the freedom to stand on his own two feet, but cloistered him in a plastic bubble of his own making. At seven and a half feet tall, Dave has no problem finding men for anonymous sex through sleazy backroom romps, but the experiences leave him feeling cold and unsatisfied. He dreams of love and commitment, but finding someone interested in a relationship seems like a pipe dream.

Desperate for companionship, Dave signs up for an online matchmaking service. To his utter embarrassment, his first date never shows, but his luck improves when he runs into a former foster brother, Micah Black. Dave and Micah quickly rebuild their friendship, but with it comes the resurrection of the forbidden crush Dave harbored for Micah when they were teens. Micah is off limits to Dave, but that doesn’t stop Dave’s imagination from spinning torrid scenarios involving his straight friend.

When Micah’s life is threatened, Dave’s inhibitions melt away. Unfortunately, the price of one chaste kiss could mean the end of the friendship Dave wants so badly…

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Read an excerpt of Furtive Liaison…
Read an excerpt of Precious Ache…

The cover Gods (Anne Cain, in this case) have granted me yet another fabulous cover. What do you all think of the artwork for my April release, Reckless Behavior? Personally, I think I’d like to lick the screen a time or two…or three. =)

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Authors and Readers Weekend
July 24 - 26, 2009
Olathe, KS

Come join several of your favorite authors
for a weekend of fun. We don’t have anything big and
exciting planned, just a peaceful time of laughter, talking
and meeting new friends.

Authors tentatively set to join us are: Carol Lynne, Amanda Young, Brynn
Paulin, Kaenar Langford, Cindy Spencer-Pape, Brownwyn
Green, Dakota Rebel and hopefully several more.

Hotel details can be found HERE.

Hope you can join us!