Please welcome historical author, Ava March. Thanks for agreeing to speak with me, Ava.

Q: To begin, please share which genre you write in…
A: M/M regency-set erotic romances. I love the regency era, where appearances and proper decorum are of the utmost importance but where anything can happen behind closed doors. It’s a challenge to get my heroes to their HEA, given the constraints on the time period, but it’s a very rewarding challenge. My first love was m/f historical romances, then I discovered e-books, and from there m/m romances. I had read a few ménage books, and had found myself sometimes wanting the heroine to just leave the men alone. When I discovered m/m romances, I was just in heaven. M/M regencies combine my two favorite genres.

Q: How long did you write before you received your first contract for publication?
A: A total of three years, which includes about 8 months of writing m/m regencies before I sold my first Ava book.

Q: So, if you don’t mind sharing, would you tell us about your latest work in progress?
A: Convincing Arthur. It’s a m/m regency-set erotic romance novella, and features a hardened rake and a conservative, workaholic solicitor (lawyer). Opposites, yes, but they are very good for each other, as opposites tend to be. It will be available in July from Loose.

Q: Out of all the stories you’ve written, which is your favorite?
A: Bound by Deception. I’m quite fond of Oliver’s character – he’s my fave hero – and in that book, he finally gets to be with the love of his life.

Q: Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow?
A: The words actually flow best when I’m in the shower, far away from my laptop. I keep a little notebook in the bathroom and will hop out of the shower, dripping wet, to scribble down notes. I really need to find a waterproof laptop. I bet I could get a ton written, lazing in a hot bath.

Q: If you could offer one tidbit of information for new writers, what would it be?
A: Trust in yourself, and don’t let rejection kill your dreams. All writers get rejected – it’s part of the business. But you can’t make that sale unless you open yourself up to rejection.

Q: Do you have an evil day job or do you write full time?
A: Raises hand for the evil day job.

Q: What do you like to do in your spare time?
A: What’s spare time? If I do manage to find a free hour or two, my favorite thing to do is to take a nap. It totally reenergizes the muse.

Q: Name one thing readers would be surprised to learn about you.
A: I have an engineering degree. I’m one of those math geeks. The ones who get all giddy when it comes to solving for X.

Q: What’s your favorite dirty word?
A: Fuck. Followed closely by ‘fuck me’, and not in its literal sense, but as a curse word. As in ‘Fuck me, the goddamn internet is down.’

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: Umm…I’d have to go with two, and since this is total fantasy, it would be much more fun if I could have them at the same time. Rafael Nadal (the tennis player with the gorgeous muscular bod) and Marco Blaze (the gay porn star with the gorgeous muscular bod). Yeah, Marco is gay, but he and I would share Rafael *g*

Q: If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things would you want with you?
A: Hubby, diet coke, and poptarts.

Q: If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you spend the money on?
A: Not much. I’d save it so I could quit the day job and write full time.

Q: Which household chore do you abhor and why?
A: Mowing the law, because it includes another chore I hate – poop scooping the back yard. Gotta poop scoop before mowing, else I’ll mow over poop and get smooshed poop on the mower tires and that really stinks, especially on a hot summer day. Was that graphic enough for you? LOL. I’ve made hubby believe mowing the lawn is his chore (not sure how I did that, but I did), so I fortunately haven’t had to do it in a while.

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?
A: Favorite all-time book is Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. I adore Mr. Darcy. He’s so stiff and proper…just makes my fingers itch to rumple him up.

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: Bound to Him was released in April from Loose Id. It’s the sequel to Bound by Deception, and picks up six months after that book ended. I’m not very good at summing up a book and making it sound interesting, so I’ll just give you the blurb and an excerpt.

Lord Vincent Prescot’s life couldn’t be better. His investments were exceeding his expectations, he’d finally accepted that his father would never look on him as a prized son, and his best friend loved him. A thriving bank account, well-respected by his peers, and mind blowing sex with a man who submitted to his every desire — what more could he want?

Lord Oliver Marsden should be more than happy with his life. He’s been in love with Vincent for over a decade and six months ago the impossible happened and they became lovers. But since then, nothing had changed. More specifically, Vincent hadn’t changed. Oliver tried to be patient – it had taken a lot for Vincent to accept the fact he preferred men. But what felt like a tiny distance between them six months ago now felt like an ever-widening chasm. Why couldn’t Vincent stay the night every now and then? Was it too much to ask for Vincent to call him Oliver and not Marsden? He knew Vincent cared for him, but did he love him?

Then Vincent’s father asks him for a favor – to marry his elder brother’s intended, thus freeing his brother to marry a powerful duke’s daughter. If Vincent agrees, he’ll have the respect he’s craved from his father but could lose Oliver. Nor does Oliver make the decision easy. To keep Oliver, he’ll have to do more than deny his father. He’ll have to give Oliver his heart.

Excerpt:

He scanned the room, spotted Marsden’s dark head over at the cashier’s cage, and went over to him. He stopped at Marsden’s shoulder, ignoring the protests from the two men in line behind him. “Ready to leave already?” He would admit to a certain eagerness to go on to Marsden’s apartments. All right, more than eager. But since he’d been gone for weeks, he had rather looked forward to spending some time with him. Outside of his bedchamber.
“I’ve had enough gambling for one night.” Marsden took the few shillings the cashier pushed under the gilded bars of the cage. Then he lowered his voice. “I’ve been here for two hours. Your note said eight, Prescot, not ten o’clock.”
Vincent gave his chips to the cashier. “The rains delayed my travel. As it was, I only stopped home long enough for a change of clothes.” And to pick up your gift.
Marsden said nothing, merely shoved his hands in his pockets and contemplated his scuffed evening shoes.
While the cashier meticulously counted a pile of gold sovereigns, Vincent tipped his head toward his friend. “My apologies, Marsden,” he murmured. “I didn’t know the roads would be such a mess when I wrote you. As it was, I was fortunate to make it to London tonight.”
Marsden tucked an errant wavy strand behind his ear and studied him from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t as if Vincent had purposefully dallied on his journey. Hell, he had no control over the weather. So why was he so worried Marsden would hold it against him?
Those long, dark lashes swept down. Ducking his chin, a little smile tugged on the corner of Marsden’s mouth, and he lifted one shoulder. “I understand. I’m glad you made it back safely.”
Vincent couldn’t hold back the smile as the tension slipped out of him, and in its place settled the delicious hum of anticipation. He had spent the greater part of the afternoon staring out the window of his carriage as it slowly made its way to London and planning exactly what he would do to Marsden once he had the man alone. “Shall we be on our way then?”
Marsden nodded, a quick jerk of his head.
He pocketed the gold sovereigns, leaving one for the cashier. When they reached the entrance hall, he stopped near the footman stationed at the cloak room. “Your greatcoat?”
Marsden didn’t pause but continued on. “Didn’t bother with it. Did you take your carriage or hire a hackney?”
Three long strides had him at Marsden’s shoulder once again. “My carriage.” The burly guard opened the front door as they approached. “Marsden, it’s October. You should not have left your greatcoat at home.” Marsden walked most everywhere he went in Town. His apartments were close, but not so close that he wouldn’t have risked catching a chill if it had rained.
“So where’s yours?”
Marsden was getting an extra smack on the arse later for that cheeky comment. Then again, knowing his friend, it would only encourage him. “My coat is in the carriage. Unlike you, I only had to walk twenty feet to reach the hell.” He stopped at the streetlamp and flicked his fingers, motioning to his driver waiting for him a few buildings down the road.
His team of four bays pulled up next to him. “Lord Oliver’s apartments,” he informed his driver as he stepped into the carriage.
Marsden’s knees brushed his as he settled on the bench opposite him. The driver snapped the whip, and the carriage lurched forward. Only the soft light from the streetlamps they passed broke the darkness, the golden glow cutting across Marsden’s profile; it illuminated the long curve of his lashes behind his spectacles, the high arch of his cheekbones, and the slightly parted full lips. How had Vincent managed to go four weeks without those lips wrapped around his cock?
“God, I missed you.” The desperation in Marsden’s whispered words sent a thrill through him.
Marsden shifted forward, as if to move to sit beside him. Aware of the open shade on the window, Vincent lifted one leg and pressed a foot over his groin, holding him down, keeping him on the opposite bench. Marsden instantly submitted, settling back, yielding to the pressure, his legs falling open. Vincent rotated his foot, rubbing the sole of his evening shoe over Marsden’s rapidly hardening cock. “Were you good, boy, in my absence?” he asked, voice pitched low but with a hard edge that would have Marsden panting in no time.
Marsden’s tongue darted out, a quick swipe across his lower lip. “Yes.”
He pressed harder, pulling a grunt from Marsden. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, milord.”
“Hmm.” He passed a hand over his jaw as he continued to rub Marsden’s cock through the placket of his trousers, the soft wool sliding easily over silken skin. It didn’t feel as though Marsden had worn drawers. One less piece of clothing for the man to remove when they reached his apartments. “Are you certain? Did you take yourself in hand?” He knew the answer, but couldn’t resist the urge to voice the question. To torment Marsden. To make the man squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and pure, stark need. To ratchet up the anticipation hanging in the air between them, so heavy he could feel it.
“Ah…I…”
“Yes or no, Marsden. Did you pleasure yourself in my absence?”
He lifted his hips, seeking even more pressure, and speared Vincent with a hot stare. “Yes.”
“And what did you do, exactly.”
“Stroked my cock until I came.” The words rushed out of Marsden’s mouth, the sharp pants of his breaths filling the closed carriage.
“That was all? Did you penetrate yourself?” At Marsden’s quick nod, he asked, “With what? Your fingers or one of your toys?” Marsden possessed a collection that rivaled the quaint little shop off Bond Street that sold a nice array of paddles and leather goods, in addition to the usual erotic offerings. A collection Vincent had taken great delight in watching Marsden sample on more than one occasion.
The faint light from a passing streetlamp gave him a glimpse of the blush staining Marsden’s cheeks. “Both.”
“At the same time?”
His dark eyes flared. “N-no.”
Vincent tsked. “A shame. Perhaps we shall need to try that.” He dropped his voice to a low rumbling growl. “See if you can take it.” Marsden’s breathy whimper shot straight to his groin. The man was so wonderfully responsive, so eager to please, so absolutely beautiful. So perfect. Warmth blossomed across his chest, a lush, comforting sensation that had nothing to do with the lust spiking his senses. Vincent tamped down the grin and instead kept his features schooled in a hard mask that approached disinterest. “Would you like that, boy?”
Even with the motion of the carriage, he could feel Marsden’s body vibrate as the man fought to remain still, his hands curled in tight fists on his thighs. “Y-yes, please, milord.”
The thought of Marsden naked on the bed, his golden skin flushed with arousal, knees drawn up to his chest, working his fingers alongside a slim dildo in his tight arse… Vincent swallowed back the grunt. Damnation. Yes, indeed, he would definitely need to coax Marsden into giving it a try. “But not tonight. I have other plans for you.” He laid a hand on the greatcoat folded at his hip, over the hard length hidden in the pocket. The man would get stuffed full, but with only one object at a time tonight. He glanced out the window. “Almost there. Best get yourself under control.” He gave Marsden’s prick a light tap before moving his foot back to the floorboards.
“Already?” Groaning, Marsden tipped his head back and ran his hands through his hair, further disheveling the dark waves. “Hell. Should have brought my greatcoat. Would have hidden it.” He sucked in a long controlled breath, as if he were steeling himself for something unpleasant. Then he spread his legs wider, grabbed his ballocks through his trousers, and tugged, hissing sharply through his clenched teeth.
Ouch. That had to have hurt. And not in a good way. “Yes, you should have,” Vincent said with a chuckle, as he put on his own coat and did up the buttons to hide his straining erection.
The carriage slowed to a stop at a familiar three-story building that looked more like a boarding house than bachelor apartments. He turned a blind eye to the bent wrought-iron rail on the stone steps leading to the front door with its peeling black paint. Instead, he focused on the two dark windows on the top floor. In just a few moments, they would be in that apartment, and he would have Marsden all to himself without having to worry about the judging eyes of others upon them.
As Marsden reached for the brass lever on the door, Vincent laid a hand on his forearm, staying him. Questioning eyes so rich and dark they almost approached black met his. He tucked that errant wavy strand back behind Marsden’s ear and murmured, “I missed you, too.” Then he winked. “Now get your arse inside so I can fuck you.”

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For more information about Ava, please visit her website: http://avamarch.com

Many, many thanks to the fabulous Anne Cain for the cover below. The first book in my Chicken Ranch series, Hunger, is set to debut at Loose Id on July 7th!

You Have Your PhD in Men

You understand men almost better than anyone. You accept that guys are very different, and you read signals well. Work what you know about men, and your relationships will be blissful.

How Well Do You Understand Men?

ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-524-9 (Electronic)

Briar Henley can’t believe his good fortune when Truman Lee strolls into his little bar and orders the house specialty—a kinky orgasm. Briar serves up the creamy, alcoholic drink with more than an ounce of curiosity. Why would a straight jock be in a gay bar?

After a little flirting, Briar doesn’t much care why Truman is there. All grown up, Truman looks better than ever. Briar can’t help but react to the pull he’s felt for the other man since high school. Painful memories of the insatiable crush he harbored for the homophobic jock makes Briar yearn for a little payback of the intimate persuasion.

Only Briar is in for a surprise of his own. Truman isn’t in town for a visit. He’s home to stay. And he wants Briar for a lot more than his fancy beverages…

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Buy it now at

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Excerpt

…The bell above the door chimed. Briar turned toward the sound, expecting to see Ben’s daughter crossing the threshold. Instead, Briar gaped as the focus of more than one wet dream strolled into his humble little establishment. With his broad shoulders pulled straight and his head held high, the newcomer strode to the opposite side of the counter from Ben and took a seat on one of the stools closest to the door.

It’d been more than a decade since Briar had set eyes on Truman Lee. The other man had gone off to college on a football scholarship, while Briar had stayed behind to care for his ailing father. After his father passed away, Briar had taken night classes in business management and eventually reopened the family bar as he knew his father would’ve wanted.

Since he and the jock had been on opposite ends of the food chain in school, Briar pretended he didn’t recognize the other man. Better that than make an ass of himself by pointing out their affiliation only to have Truman feign remembrance.

Truthfully, Briar hoped Truman didn’t recall the skinny little outcast he used to be. High school was hard on almost everyone, but it’d been a particular rollercoaster for a scrawny, big-mouthed kid in southwestern Virginia. His piss-poor attitude had gotten his ass kicked more than once. Truman, on the other hand, had been a typical athletic meathead. With his stocky, muscular body and boy-next-door good looks, Truman had been every girl’s— and one lonely gay boy’s—idea of a walking wet dream. Thank God no one had ever found the yearbook photo of Truman that Briar had hidden under his mattress. He would have died of shame.

Briar snapped out of his fit of nostalgia and crossed to where Truman sat waiting. He schooled his features into the polite mask of someone who was used to working with the public. “Welcome to Henley’s. What can I get for you?”

Truman smiled at Briar, showing off the twin dimples in his lean cheeks. “I heard you make the best Kinky Orgasms this side of the Mason-Dixon line.”

“Is that so?”

Truman nodded.

Briar wanted to preen in response to the compliment, but he held it in. Apparently the bartending refresher courses were worth the price of admission after all. “I suppose whether or not they’re the best would depend on how you like them made. Would you rather have the drink mixed with strawberries or creamy vanilla ice cream?”

Truman’s nostrils flared. “Oh, I definitely want it creamy.”

“All right.” Briar swallowed over the frog in his throat. His imagination had to be creating the lustful way Truman eyed him. The man was as straight as an arrow…he’d banged half the cheerleading squad when they were in school. “One Kinky Orgasm, hold the strawberries, coming up.”

He could feel Truman’s gaze on his back as he set about getting the ingredients he needed. The attention didn’t help convince his cock of Truman’s hetero status. Briar’s unruly prick didn’t give a plug nickel about things like straight or gay. It knew what it liked, and Truman fit the bill nicely…

This week’s guest is Alan Chin, author of ISLAND SONG.

Q: Good morning, Alan. Please tell us which genre you write in…
A: My first two novels, Island Song and Changi, both published by Zumaya Publications, are basically gay romance novels. There are romance subplots going on in my third and forth novels, Match Maker and Butterfly’s Child, but I’ve recently broken away from the romance genre to write what I believe is more literary work. I find that my plots and characters are getting more complicated, deeper, and I’m dealing with more compelling issues. I’m finding that to be more satisfying to write.

Q: How long did you write before you received your first contract for publication?
A: I wrote for about ten years before I got serious about being published. From the time I started Island Song until the contract was signed was about five years. Three of those years were dealing with rejection after rejection, which caused me to rewrite the story more than once.

Q: So, if you don’t mind sharing, would you tell us about your latest work in progress?
A: I don’t mind at all. I’ve started the first draft of a futuristic story about two brothers, one straight and one gay, told from the point of view of the straight brother. It’s a story of brotherly betrayal and redemption. It’s my first work that is not strictly gay-themed, and I’m getting very excited about it.

Q: Out of all the stories you’ve written, which is your favorite?
A: That’s like asking a mother which of her children are her favorite. At this point in my career, if I was forced to choose only one, I would have to say my third novel, Match Maker. It’s the story of a gay tennis coach and a straight, teenaged, tennis star trying to make it in the world of professional tennis. It’s my favorite only because I think it’s some of my best writing and because I love tennis and have played in amateur tournaments in the past. That story is currently searching for a publisher.

Q: Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow?
A: I prefer to write in my office at home, and mostly before noon. But I can write almost anywhere. I’ve been in Southeast Asia for the past three months and have managed to get a reasonable amount of writing done. When traveling, as I am now, I try to write at least two to three hours each day.

Q: What’s the strangest source of inspiration you’ve found for a story?
A: I wrote a short story about gay bashing that was inspired by a true event in Arizona where a teenaged gay boy was beaten to death by four classmates who happened to be football jocks. They killed him solely because he was gay, and different. The jocks plead guilty and the judge let them off with 6 months of community service, saying that he, the judge, was impressed that all four boys were active members of the high school football team and that’s what this country needed more of. So murderers got way scott-free simply because they were jocks and the victim was gay. I was so outraged that I wrote a short story about fighting back against gay bashers. That story eventually grew into Island Song, my first novel.. Readers can find out more about it on my website: http://alanchin.net

Q: If you could offer one tidbit of information for new writers, what would it be?
A: About Writing? I’d say: if you have a dream or an idea you want to develop and share, don’t let anything stop you. Do it, work at it every day, do it to the best of your abilities, and don’t stop until it’s better than you thought possible. Learn your craft, then learn it better, then apply it. And while you’re applying it, learn more. That’s the journey, and in the end all we’re really left with is the journey. So set a course, unfurl your sails and travel well.

Q: Do you have an evil day job or do you write full time?
A: I retired from business in April of 1999 at the ripe age of forty-five. My partner and I traveled constantly for a few years after that, then I began writing full time.

Q: What do you like to do in your spare time?
A: Spare time? Since Island Song was published I have very little spare time. When I’m not writing I’m on the internet promoting my book. But my two other hobbies are traveling and tennis, both of which I’m able to share with my husband, Herman Chin.

Q: Name one thing readers would be surprised to learn about you.
A: With a last name of Chin, they might be surprised to find out I’m not Asian. I was christened Alan Lewis Hurlburt at birth, but back in 1999 my husband, Herman Chin, and I wanted to share the same family name. So it was going to be either Alan Chin or Herman Hurlburt… Guess who won that argument? So I legally changed my last name to Chin.

Q: What’s your favorite holiday, and why?
A: New Years, mostly because Herman and I travel during that time of year and I love traveling. Also because I love new beginnings. Finishing up the old and starting something new. I’m not big on holidays. I write everyday, so weekends and holidays don’t mean much to me. They’re simply another opportunity to write and be with my man.

Q: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
A: No, I was too old by the time that fad became fashionable. And I haven’t seen a single one that I would want to look at every day for the next twenty or thirty years.

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: I’m not going to answer that one, because my husband is bound to read this interview, and I want to keep a little mystery in our relationship. Keep him guessing….

Q: If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things would you want with you?
A: My laptop, a solar battery charger, and an internet connection.

Q: If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you spend the money on?
A: Traveling. I haven’t been to Europe in five years simply because it’s gotten so expensive. I would spend a year in Europe, then spend another year making my way down the eastern coast of Africa.

Q: Which household chore do you abhor and why?
A: Cooking. Herman does all the cooking in our house. Food is not something I get excited about. I prefer to eat in, rather than go out to a restaurant, but only if Herman cooks.

Q: What’s your favorite comfort food?
A: Soup, any soup except split pea. My favorite is any kind of Asian noodle soup: Vietnamese rice-noodle soup, ramen, Udon, Laotian Khao Soy, Chinese noodle soup – I love them all.

Q: Do you have any guilty pleasures you feel comfortable sharing?
A: One of several reasons that I love spending time in Thailand, as I am now, is that there are any number of young, very cute, Thai guys who flirt with both me and Herman. I am, of course, fully aware that their only motivation is financial gain, and I’m also wholly aware that the relationship Herman and I have is monogamous, so there is no chance anything will happen with these Thai guys, but it still gives me a little thrill when these guys come on to me. It brings back memories of when I was much younger, much cuter, single, and on the hunt…

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?
A: No favorites. I have a stack of books and DVDs at my house. I love rereading great books, and also watching good movies over and over. Some of my favorite movies are Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, Cabaret, Moonstruck, Victor/Victoria. Last year I watched a ton of gay-themed flicks, and saw some notables: Shelter, The History Boys, Callas Forever, Big Eden, Burnt Money.

As for books, I love anything by: Hemingway, Capote, Marguerite Duras, Edmund White, Michael Cunningham, Jim Grimsley. Last year I was impressed by two novels from John Le Carre, and this year I’ve read two novels by Cormac McCarthy that I couldn’t put down. I just finished All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque, that I picked up in a used bookstore in Cambodia for $2, and I was completely blown away, both by the intensity of the story and the awesome writing style.

Q: Anything else you’d like to share?
A: Herman and I have been partners for over fifteen years. The day after gay marriage became legal in California, we marched down to the Civic Center and became the first male/male couple to be married in Marin County, California. I’m very proud of that. Not so much proud of being the first couple, but of being in the front ranks of that movement, and being able to make that social statement about our relationship. And I can tell you that even after living with Herman for fifteen years, I got choked up while repeating the vows. It was a very emotional experience.

The other thing I’d like to share is that people can find out more about my writing at my website, http://AlanChin.net, and my writer’s blog, http://AlanChinWriter.blogspot.com. You can also read about Herman and my travels at http://HermanAndAlan.blogspot.com.

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: Island Song is a story that I’ve had a love affair with for well over fifteen years. It started as a short story about gay bashing which I wrote for a class project when I was in college earning my Master’s degree in writing. After I retired from life in the corporate world and began traveling the world, I read a book, Soul Mountain, that expertly wove Zen philosophy into the fabric of the story, and I thought, that’s what I want to do. So I picked up Island Song again and developed it into a novel-length manuscript while trying to weave my philosophy on life into the story.

Island Song touches on many topics concerning the gay community – losing a long-time partner, coming out, relationships that span age and cultural boundaries, gay bashing, alternative families – and it makes a statement about all those issues. But I think the overall message is that gay men and women can be both strong and courageous in our own unique way, finding inner strength without reverting to hatred or violence, and in so doing we will win in the end with our dignity intact.

An Excerpt From ISLAND SONG:

He spots Songoree above him, swimming beside a seven-ton monster, performing an acrobatic dance that captivates him. With outstretched limbs and his long hair billowing outward from his head, Songoree moves through shafts of purple light filtering down from above.
Awed, Garrett slowly ascends while enjoying the performance. Songoree is truly a creature of the sea. He seems as delicate as a seahorse and as graceful as a manta ray.
More moans erupt from the whales, and the pace of their dance speeds up. Their sublime movements increase in acrobatic skill.
Songoree moves faster as well. He seems as fluid as the water. He breaks away from the beast and swims all out for the boat. The whales move away with remarkable speed.
Garrett’s lungs begin to burn, and he is still fifteen feet from the surface.
Now he feels it…
In a flash, the universe transforms. It comes straight up from the dark water below at horrifying speed. An immense shadow slides just below him. Goosebumps spread over his body. It feels like someone has a grip on his throat. His legs kick wildly now, his eyes on the surface ten feet above.
Twelve hundred pounds of gray flesh and teeth and fin rocket directly in front of him. Even at that terrific speed it takes an ungodly amount of time for the shark to pass. It circles.
It has eyes the size of baseballs and a mouth three feet wide with rows of serrated teeth, all pointing inwards. The mouth turns up at the ends and makes the shark look like it is grinning. It has no fear—rather, everything in the water fears it.
My God, Garrett thinks, a great white.

.
.
.

Garrett is no longer in the world of men and sky and water, a place of light and darkness. There is only his mind and the terror that rips at him. He has always thought of evil as being a black shadowy form, but now he sees the obscene whiteness of the teeth ripping into his side, and he realizes that evil comes in many colors. He is beyond pain, and his mind no longer functions. There is only terror and the crushing grip of white teeth. It all happens in super-slow motion—no time and no pain, only teeth.
Garrett surrenders to the terror. Locked together in this bizarre universe, he can’t tell where he ends and the fish begins.
He feels a pressure on his neck. Something has a firm grip on his throat, as if his head is locked in a vise, and all at once he bursts into the world of sound again. He hears distant screams, and he feels the sweet relief of air rushing into his lungs.

You Are a Convertible

You’re playful and carefree. You are lighthearted in all aspects of your life. Life is short and you act accordingly. You don’t worry, and you try to bring fun into other people’s lives.You love feeling free, and you don’t do well with rules or restrictions. You need to be able to do your own thing. You feel more alive than most people. You can really savor the little things in life, like feeling the wind in your hair.

What Type of Car Are You?

Please welcome this week’s guest author, Rick R. Reed. Many thanks to Rick for volunteering to speak with me and share a small glimpse into his world.

Q: What genre do you write in, and why?
A: Oh honey, I defy categorization. My writing has been called horror, dark suspense, thriller, mystery, paranormal, romance, speculative fiction, erotica, and GLBT. There’s probably some I’m leaving out. My point is I dabble in a lot of different genres (sometimes in the same story or book) and my goal is not to write a piece of genre fiction, but a piece of fiction that captivates a reader.

Q: How long did you write before you received your first contract for publication?
A: Well, since I wrote my first story at about age six, a long time. My first real big publishing contract came in 1991, for a novel called OBSESSED. It was published by Dell (in their then-new line of horror called Abyss). I was six years old in 1964…so you do the math. I’m terrible with numbers, which is why I’m a writer and not an accountant.

Q: So, if you don’t mind sharing, would you tell us about your latest work in progress?
A: I am working on a novel I am calling MUTE WITNESS right now. I don’t generally like to get into a lot of detail about what I’m doing, but I will say that this could most likely be categorized as a thriller with a GLBT couple at its center.

Q: Out of all the stories you’ve written, which is your favorite?
A: DEADLY VISION because it’s some of my best suspense writing, because it’s one of the few pieces I set in the small Ohio River town where I grew up, and because it ultimately has a powerful underlying message of redemption and the power of the bond between mother and child. It was also dedicated to my mom, who, unfortunately, passed away from cancer just a few months before it was published.

Q: Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow?
A: I work every morning in my home office. I do NOT write in coffee shops or outdoors. I need a familiar place and absolute silence.

Q: What’s the strangest source of inspiration you’ve found for a story?
A: My dreams bring me a lot of inspiration. I often wake up either laughing or screaming.

Q: If you could offer one tidbit of information for new writers, what would it be?
A: Read a lot. Write a lot. Learn from your mistakes. Never get cocky; listen to your detractors more than those who praise you.

Q: Do you have an evil day job or do you write full time?
A: I write full time. Lucky me! I will not complain about what a lonely job this can be.

Q: What do you like to do in your spare time?
A: Pick my nose.

Q: Name one thing readers would be surprised to learn about you.
A: I am a virgin. Well, you didn’t say it had to be true, only that it would surprise readers.

Q: What’s your favorite dirty word?
A: Fuck.

Q: What’s your favorite holiday, and why?
A: Halloween. It’s when the things that go bump in the night come out and they’re my people.

Q: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
A: One of each…a Celtic circle on my upper left arm and an ear piercing (just the humdrum lobe).

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: Clive Owen, professional wrestler John Cena, and Seann William Scott. And all at one time would be more fun than a barrel of monkeys.

Q: If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things would you want with you?
A: A deck of cards, Bruce (my partner), and Lily (our dog); I would also like my son, but only if he could also bring his partner.

Q: If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you spend the money on?
A: Houses for Bruce and me (one in Chicago, one in Hawaii, and one in NYC).

Q: Which household chore do you abhor and why?
A: Vacuuming. I live in a townhouse that’s on four levels and it’s a bitch to vacumm all those carpeted stairs.

Q: What’s your favorite comfort food?
A: Roast chicken

Q: Do you have any guilty pleasures you feel comfortable sharing?
A: Judge Judy. I watch her almost every day.

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?
A: Many of both. I suppose my standard answer for this question is Wizard of Oz (movie) and A Confederacy of Dunces (book)

Q: Anything else you’d like to share?
A: My recipe for banana nut bread. It’s the best! The secret is using flaked, unsweetened coconut in the batter.

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 latest release? Isn’t that kind of personal? Oh, you mean my latest book release. Well, the absolute latest one is MAN-amorphosis, a short e-book available from Amber Quill Press (under the GLBT imprint, Amber Allure).

Here’s a taste:

…I awoke one morning from uneasy dreams to find my penis had transformed itself into a vagina.

I was lying on my back and, as is my custom, reached down to give myself a good morning grope. It was my perky way of welcoming in the day. Usually, what awaited my wandering hand was a large column of flesh, with the tension of a steel girder, and the approximate length and width of professional wrestler “The Rock’s” forearm.

My blood ran cold when the hand felt nothing. Imagine how stressed you feel when your wallet or keys have suddenly vanished. Multiply that to the nth degree and you’ll maybe get a hint of the alarm I felt when I discovered my penis had disappeared.

Hoping for a different outcome, I reached down again. Yes, the pubic hair was there, in all its curly, silky glory. The cock, however, had flown the roost. But as I groped, I discovered that, in its place, was not nothing, but something new, different…and damp. Although much of my sexual experience had of late been with the male gender, I had, in my misspent youth, explored the other side of the sexual coin to a ridiculous, self-denying extent (and if you’ve ever met my little daughter, you know it’s true), so I recognized the contours and texture of the feminine apparatus referred to by doctors as a vagina. Everyone else calls it a pussy, box, hair pie, beaver, muff, bush, twat, cunt, quim, red snapper, bearded clam, and God only knows what else.

But what was one of these things doing between my legs? How had it managed to get there? Where had what doctors referred to as a penis gone (you probably call it a dick, cock, wee wee, prostate poker, Johnson, prick, sausage, rod)? Albeit a moustache of sweat had formed on my upper lip, I couldn’t restrain myself from beginning to explore my lower lips. They had a silky smoothness, a not unpleasant bumpiness, an unevenness that appealed to my sense of aesthetic asymmetry. As I gently massaged them, I felt them unfold, like a small, fleshy flower. They sort of puffed up, which made me think how much money people like Melanie Griffith and Barbara Hershey could have saved on collagen if they could have mastered this trick on their upper lips. But I couldn’t be distracted by thoughts of movie star snatches when I suddenly found I had my own…

Hi all. It’s been a while since my last giveaway, so I thought I’d offer up a new one. All the details on the prizes being awarded and how you can enter are below…

 

What’s up for grabs:

Two lucky people will have their pick of either an autographed paperback or two ebooks. That way, if you’ve missed any of my digital releases in the last few months, you’ll have a shot at selecting specific titles. Or if you already have all my ebooks, you can choose a paperback. Sound good?

 

How to enter:

All you have to do to throw your name into the hat is be a member of my low-mail announcement group. If you’re already a member, then you’re automatically entered to be chosen. Otherwise, you can find my announcement list here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/AmandaYoung/

 

The prize winners will be announced through my announcement list on June 1^st. Good luck!

You Are Dusk

You are a naturally idealistic and creative person. You look forward to nights where everything is possible. You spend most of your energy on play. Work is okay, but the true you emerges after the work day is done.You’re an offbeat type that doesn’t like rules or schedules. Life’s too short to waste at a desk in a cube. Whether you spend your night socializing or working on side projects, you like that your time is yours.

Are You Dusk or Dawn?

Please welcome this week’s guest author, Dorien Grey. Dorien is the author of the fabulous Dick Hardesty series. I’m so thrilled he was able to take time out of his busy schedule to answer my nosy questions.

Q: Hello, Dorien. To start, why don’t you share the genre you write in?

A: I write primarily mysteries because I enjoy creating puzzles.

Q: How long did you write before you received your first contract for publication?

A: I started writing at around age 5, and had my first book published some 35 or so years later. The interim was something of a blur.

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

A: Currently, I’m wrapping up “The Secret Keeper,” Book #13 of the Dick Hardesty mystery series. It involves the apparent suicide of a multi-millionaire who had befriended Jonathan, Dick’s partner. Jonathan refuses to accept that it was suicide, sending Dick off on another quest for the truth. Then it’s on to the next book in the Elliott Smith mysteries, which I’m mulling over in my head. It’s a continuing process.

Q: Out of all the stories you’ve written, which is your favorite?

A: Asking an author which of his work is his favorite is a little bit like asking a parent which of his children he (I know…or she) likes best. I never say, lest I risk hurting the others’ feelings.

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

A: Just anywhere there is a computer. I never write longhand, since two minutes after I write something down, I can’t read my handwriting.

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

A: All my books are inspired by the sparking of awareness of some basic flaw or peculiarity in the human condition. Where these sparks come from, or why, I honestly have no idea which, I suppose, is pretty strange in and of itself.

Q: If you could offer one tidbit of information for new writers, what would it be?

A: Pretend you’re having a conversation with a friend. Talk TO your reader, not AT him (yes, I know “or her.” Political correctness can be a real drag at times).

Q: Do you have an evil day job or do you write full time?

A: I do have a very high paying and prestigious part time weekend job sitting behind the information desk at a local shopping center, directing people to the nearest washroom, but I probably could survive without it. I’d just have to give up a few luxuries like food and rent. And I recently bought a laptop so I can write at work.

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

A: I don’t really think of myself as having any. I have a great deal of flexibility available to me, but I find I spend most of my time writing though I never write past 5 p.m. I would love to have a lot more time to read, but often find reading frustrating in that if I like what I’m reading, I get envious of the writer’s talent and question my own.

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

A: Probably very little. I tend to blend in with the wallpaper, and everything I write is aimed at demonstrating that we are all far more alike than we are different. That does not lend itself to surprises. And I have a tendency to lay myself out on the dissecting table not only in my books but in my 3-times-a-week blog, “Dorien Grey and Me” (http://www.doriengreyandme.com). I tend to associate telling people about myself to the little girl’s book report on a book on penguins: “This book tells me more about penguins than I care to know.”

Q: What’s your favorite dirty word?

A: That’s rather like asking which of my work I like best. There so many colorful epithets out there like hothouse flowers—most of which I have used at one time or another—it’s hard to pick one

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

A: I am very fond of the 4th of July for its general exuberance. The songs, the flag-waving, the sense that we are all one—I love displays of positive emotion.

Q: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?

A: No offense to the 99.4 out of 100 people who seem to have them nowadays, but I find myself questioning the mental stability of anyone with more than one or two small tattoos. I find any kind of piercing equal parts idiotic and utterly repugnant. If someone wish to call attention to themselves, go paint yourself blue: at least it will come off when you realize how dumb you were to have it done in the first place.

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: If I had a significant other, I probably wouldn’t be considering the question, but off the top of my head I’d say Jeffrey Donovan (of TV’s “Burn Notice”), Colin Ferguson (of TV’s “Eureka”) and any one of the innumerable hunks I see going upstairs to the gym at the shopping center where I work.

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

A: Uh, Jeffrey Donovan, a well-equipped sailboat, and all the books I’ve always wanted to read but never did.

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

A: If I could not use it to buy back my physical youth, I’d devote up to half of it to travel and whatever form of self-indulgence struck me at the moment but I honestly would try to use at least half to do something to improve the lives of others.

Q: Which household chore do you abhor and why?

A: My lack of domesticity is legend. I abhor all household chores, and hold firm to Quentin Crisp’s observation that “the dust doesn’t get any thicker after three years.”

Q: What’s your favorite comfort food?

A: Thanks to 35 radiation treatments that rid me of tongue cancer several years ago having totally screwed up my ability to really enjoy any kind of food, I fear I really haven’t anything specific. I just concentrate on taking in as many calories as possible, which fortunately includes things like cake and pie and donuts.

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

A: Not with a mixed audience.

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?

A: My favorite book of all time is Robert Lewis Taylor’s “Adrift in a Boneyard,” of which few people have ever heard: I honestly think it was the single most influential book in developing my writing style. As for a movie, “Schindler’s List” and “E.T.” immediately come to mind.

Q: Anything else you’d like to share?

A: Every writer wants new readers, but I fear I tend to go a bit overboard in my compulsion to find them. I’m sure a psychiatrist would say I look to my readers as a form of validation, and the more I have, the more validated I feel. So I’d be most happy if this interview might lead someone to take a chance with me.

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: Though my next book, “Aaron’s Wait,” is the second book in my new Elliott Smith series, it won’t be out until June. So my most recent release is “The Angel Singers”, which deals with murder in a male gay chorus.

As for an excerpt, I’m not quite sure “Yummy” would apply, but here’s a snippet to give you an idea of the tone:

It wasn’t until after Joshua was safely Story-Timed and asleep that I had a chance to talk to Jonathan about anything he might not already told me about what he may have seen and overheard at the chorus.
“I thought I’d told you everything that was going on,” he said.
“Well, yeah, you have, but you haven’t really said too much about what you think about it all, or about the guys. Especially anything that relates to Grant.”
He shrugged. “Ah, yeah. Well, I really like most of the guys, even those who sided with Grant. Grant could be really kind of sweet, if he wanted to be like if he wanted something. The guys in his inner circle tended to come and go. Somebody would be his best buddy for awhile, then the next week Grant would totally ignore him. Most of what I know is second-hand, since I have no idea how he was between rehearsals or if he hung around with anybody in particular when we weren’t rehearsing. I’m pretty sure he was having sex with some of the guys, and he was very good with come-ons.”
“Speaking from personal experience?” I asked with a grin.
He returned the grin. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he said, and I reached over and grabbed his leg in a vice grip that made him jerk. “Okay!,” he said, “Okay! No kissing, but he did come on to me once or twice but my strength is the strength of ten because my heart is pure.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and released my grip.
“So, Mr. Pureheart,” I said, “anybody you haven’t mentioned have a particular grudge against him?”
He shook his head. “He wouldn’t win many popularity contests,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure there were a couple of the guys’ partners who’d be mad enough, like Jerry was, to at least try to beat him up..”
“Yeah, well I can see a lot of guys being pissed at him, but enough to kill him?”
“Hell hath no fury like a lover scorned,” he said.
I stared at him. “My, we’re a little font of aphorisms tonight, aren’t we?”
“Aren’t aphorisms those little green bugs that get on my pepper plants?” he asked, then quickly added: “Oh, no, those are aphids.”
I could see we weren’t going to get much further into this particular conversation, so suggested we go to bed.
“We can play a game of ‘The Aphid and the Pepper Plant,’” I said. “I get to be the aphid.”
He grinned, getting up from the couch.
“Deal,” he said.

********************
Thanks, Amanda, for the opportunity to talk to your readers. I do hope some of them might want to check out my website at http://www.doriengrey.com, where they can read the first chapter of any or all of my books, and even sign up for a drawing to win a free book.