Rose & Thorn Release Day Extra!

It's release day! *happy dances* And you don't even have to go out in the cold to buy yourself a copy. Isn't that convenient? ;-) Just pop on over to Torquere Books and you can buy it right now! Whee!

Here, as promised, is a scene you won't find between the covers of the book. I hope you like it!

ROSE & THORN by Maia Strong
Torquere Press, December 28, 2011


"There's a new fellow in town for auditions," said Jasper.

His sister, Jade, looked at him with one eyebrow raised in challenge. "There's a hundred new fellows in town, and all for Rose and Thorns auditions," she reminded him. "And I only care about them if they're bringing their business to my pub."

It was in that very pub that the two of them currently sat. It was past closing time, and they were the only ones there. Even the boy who swept the floors had long since finished up and gone to bed.

Jasper shook his head and persevered. "No, I mean, I think this fellow's got potential, you know?"

Her reply was cautious. "What makes you say that?"

"Just something about him. He's got a presence."

"He'd be a damned poor actor if he didn't."

"No, no. There's an air about him that feels like the mountains."

Jade sighed with a weariness that was only partially due to long hours on her feet tending to customers. "You and your mountains."

"They're your mountains, too."

She shook her head. "We live here now, boyo. You need to let go of the past."

"I have!" he protested.

She turned on her seat and leaned an arm on the wooden bar. Her keen eyes regarded him closely. "Have you? Jasper, you're my little brother and you know I want you to be happy. I'm just worried about you, is all."

He knew what she meant. There was no way he couldn't. He looked away. "I'm fine."

"I'm sure you are." Her tone belied the words.

The empty bar room was quiet around them. The few lanterns that were still lit glowed warmly. The darkness beyond the windows was absolute. They might have been the only people left in the world.

It was Jade who finally broke the silence, her voice soft and kind. "I just don't want you getting your heart broken again. You open it up so quickly, and you hurt so much when someone disappoints you like that."

He met her gaze once more, and this time he held if fast. "I'll be careful. I promise."

Letting that subject go, Jade chose another. "And what about the job? If you don't get it? How will you be then?"

"I can handle it," he said firmly. "I'm an actor. I'm used to rejection. I know how not to take it personally." He gave her a little smile, which she returned.

"All right," she relented. "Maybe I'm worried about you for no good reason. You're a grown man, and I should mind my own business."

Jasper reached out and took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "You're family, and don't you dare."

They both chuckled at that.

"In that case, off to bed with you, young man!" scolded Jade, a twinkle of mirth in her bright blue eyes. "You need your sleep. You may well be starting a new job in the morning, and they're going to want your best work."

Grinning, Jasper called her on her contractions. "First, you say I won't get it, and now you say I will?"

She made a dismissive noise and waved a hand at him. "Since when does logic apply to theater, or to me, for that matter? Now off you go!"

He hopped off the bar stool and stood up especially straight. "Yes, ma'am!" Letting his amusement go, he reached out and hugged her. "Thanks, sis."

She returned the embrace warmly. "I'm always here for you, Jasper."

"I know."

*****

I hope I've managed to pique your curiosity. Why not pop over to Torquere's site and pick up a copy for yourself. And while you're at it, pick up a second one for a friend!

Happy (almost) New Year!

Rose & Thorn Excerpt!

Yesterday, I promised a steamy excerpt that'll warm you up. Here it is. ;-)

ROSE & THORN by Maia Strong
Torquere Press, December 2001

Clad in only undertunic and drawers, he padded softly to the brazier. The scent of maple syrup and cinnamon had begun to permeate the air of the closed-up room, making it smell sweetly delectable. His cock grew semi-hard as he inhaled the sweet aroma; he'd always been a sucker for all kinds of sweet sensations.

Jasper carefully dipped his little finger into the cauldron and licked the drizzle of syrup from it. It was warm enough and utterly delicious. He was ready to wake his sleeping lover.

Eamon lay on his side, face half buried in the pillow. The bed was narrow, but not so narrow that the two of them couldn't manage what Jasper intended. Jasper smiled, thinking ahead, and his cock grew fully hard. He crouched by the head of the bed and pushed dark brown hair from Eamon's flushed cheek.

"Wake up, boyo," he murmured. "It's time for that dessert I promised you."

Eamon mumbled something as he had before and batted a hand out around his face as if swatting at a pestering fly. Jasper's smile widened. He'd found Eamon sexy, funny, talented, and smart. This simple, sleepy gesture made him endearing, too.

"Come on, sleepyhead," he tried again, a little louder this time. As he spoke, he trailed one hand down Eamon's bare arm, across his belly, and along the waistband of his breeches. The combination of words and actions finally roused a waking response.

Eamon opened one eye, took a moment to focus, and smiled. "I am so glad it's you," he said softly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hmm. Of all the possibilities, you're by far the best one."

Jasper grinned. "Thank you."

Eamon inhaled deeply. "What's that smell I smell? It's... mmm." He let the breath out in a sigh.

"Dessert. It's ready for you if you're ready for it." Jasper rose and took a step back in one fluid motion.

Eamon pushed himself up into a sitting position. He blinked drowsily and focused on Jasper once more. "I see you're ready." He looked pointedly at where Jasper's drawers were tented out.

"Very." Jasper grinned.

"So what's for dessert?"

"You."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, making Jasper think of the arch mother figure he'd played while they were singing earlier that night.

"And me."

"Uh-huh."

"And something both sweet and hot. Do you have a towel I could borrow?"

"Huh? Sure." Taken by surprise by the change of subject, Eamon immediately dropped the expression he had adopted and pointed to the foot of the bed. "Hanging on the rails, there's one."

Jasper took it and used it to safely move the little cauldron from the brazier to the table.

"So what is it?" Eamon asked again. He rose and steadied himself with the bedpost before taking the few steps to where Jasper was carefully stirring the concoction with a wooden spoon. Jasper ran his index finger along the back of the coated spoon, testing again for temperature and deeming it ideal. He repeated the gesture and held up his finger, offering it to Eamon.

"Taste."

Smiling with a double hunger, Eamon took the offered finger in his mouth and sucked the sweet liquid from it. "Mmm! Maple!" He licked his lips.

"Spiced with cinnamon and cloves. I recommend you finish undressing," advised Jasper. "This stuff sticks. You have paid for laundry service, I trust." He smiled mischievously.

"It's included in the price of the room."

"That's good. Now, about those breeches?" He looked down at the clothing in question and back up into Eamon's eyes -- dove gray in the lamplight.

Eamon hurried to undo his flies and nearly fell trying to get out of his pants too quickly. Jasper laughed and steadied him. "Don't hurt yourself. That would take all the fun out of this."

"Not if you kissed it and made it better," Eamon responded.

Jasper laughed again. "You're quick on your feet."

"But hopefully not in bed." Eamon grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

"That, too, would take all the fun out of this," joked Jasper.

Finally, Eamon managed to get his breeches and drawers off, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Jasper shook his head and ignored the clutter in favor of the nearly perfect naked man standing before him.

He looked Eamon over with a keen eye, taking in details he'd glossed over at their first coupling and in their rushed bath this morning.

Eamon was slim, but his shoulders were broad and square. He had the suppleness and flexibility of the fighter and dancer that he was. His arms didn't bulge with muscles, but instead were smoothly sculpted by hard work and training -- sinewy and strong, the kind of muscles that only fully showed themselves when they were being used.

Jasper liked that, liked his men lithe and lean, but not too lean. Eamon could use a little bulking up, in his opinion. He was too much like a starving student, which was so far from the truth as to be almost laughable. Jasper had seen the man eat, and he was very good at it. It was part of why Jasper had thought of tonight's dessert. But first, it was Jasper's turn to dine.

*****

Check in tomorrow for a special release day extra!

Rose & Thorn Cover Art and Blurb!

Hello, everyone! I hope you're all having a joyful holiday season and that you gave and got all sorts of lovely presents!

Release day is nearly here for my m/m/f novel Rose & Thorn! I thought I'd share a few presents, myself. Things like...cover art!

I really love the colours, don't you? And the text is super-cool, the way it looks all rose-viney. :-)

And a blurb!

Eamon Quinn is an actor with designs on a position with Rose & Thorn Theatrics. As a new university graduate, he's up to the acting challenge. He's not so sure he's up to facing life in the big city. That is, until he finds a friend in Jasper Davison. Jasper is intrigued by Eamon, sure that he's a fellow mountain-born soul, which is something Jasper's been missing in coastal Yanuk. When both men are hired by Rose & Thorn, the kindred spirits soon become lovers--and catch the eye of the company's head apprentice, HJ Greenhills.

Bad luck plagues the theatre--accidents, injuries, and a sudden death--leading to rumors of a curse. Weaving sexual energy with Druid magic, Eamon and Jasper seek the truth behind the rumors. But confirming the curse is only the first hurdle. They need to figure out who cast it and how to end it before it causes more harm. Even together, the two men aren't strong enough. Druid magic works best in threes, and so they seek HJ's help to lift the curse. The three put their bodies and energies together to call up the magic they need to try and set things right.

Tomorrow, I'll be posting an excerpt to whet your appetite further! It should warm you up nicely if you're having a cold, cold winter. ;-)

"The Speech You've Been Waiting For"

It's 30 minutes you will not regret spending. I promise you.

Or if you'd rather read it (or the embedded video doesn't work for some reason), the full text (and video) can be found here.

Exquisite!

You must read this article RIGHT NOW. Anyone who believes in "libraries, books, words, ideas" cannot help but be moved by this wonderful collection of anonymous art. I know what I'm doing first the next time I go to Edinburgh: I'm going all over town to see these Mysterious Paper Sculptures.

Good night, NaNoWriMo.

I wouldn't say it's been a blast this time around, but it hasn't sucked like last year, so I'll take that as another win for 2011.

My novel isn't done yet, but it is over 50K...for the moment. Somehow I think it's going to end up under that once it's finished and then edited. But that's okay. I'll probably like it better that way.

Anyway, see you next year! (Because I am a glutton for punishment--and meaningless, arbitrary, self-imposed deadlines, apparently.)

Victories

NaNoWriMo is a series of victories. Committing to do it is the first one. Sticking with it for 30 days is another. Reaching 50K is yet another. Actually finishing a manuscript is another still. In six years of NaNoing (and six years of winning, ;-D ), I have only finished a full manuscript first draft on one occasion within the 30 days, and that was the first year I participated (2006). That book's been published: The Ballad of Jimothy Redwing. My second NaNovel (drafted in 2007) has at last found a home and a publisher and will be coming out around the New Year: Rose & Thorn. Those are two more victories.

Last year, the greatest victory for me was making 50K. It was like pulling teeth! It was a misery! Not that I don't love the book and its characters. Don't get me wrong on that. It was just that I think I had a combination of burn-out (It was the third book in that particular universe, three NaNoWriMos in a row.), and some sort of fifth-year slump. A friend experienced the latter this year, so there may be something to that theory.

This year, the challenge was that, while I love the idea behind this year's story, I don't feel like I'm telling it very well. It's tough to stay motivated when you feel like your book is clunky and awkward. I had to remind myself that the goal was to get it out there, not make it The Next Great Novel (TM) right off the bat. So that's what I've done. I've gotten it out there. It's not done yet, and it won't be done by midnight on Wednesday. But it is getting there. And I think, once I am finished, and I've literally cut and pasted it into a better order of events, and then edited the hell out of it, that it's going to be a pretty damn fine book. Whether the final products is still over 50K words... Well, that remains to be seen.

Has anyone else been NaNoing this year (or in past years) and want to share your experiences? I'd love to hear it in the comments!

When Pantsers Plot

This is a topic that's been heavy on me of late. I am a pantser. Always have been. But this year for NaNoWriMo, I had a plot before I had anything else. I didn't know any characters' names or much about the world itself when I started. I only knew that it was sort of like the present, only not; and that there had to be a psychic working with the police. To me, this is utterly backwards. My usual m.o. is characters=>world=>plot. This whole plot=>world + characters thing is downright freaky and wrong. As a result, my writing this NaNo has been sporadic. I'm still reaching my daily goal averaged over the month, but it's coming as 3K or 5K one day, and <1K other days. Why? Simple. It's because I know how the book ends and as a result, I'm bored. Nothing is as fun when you know how it ends! I've never been one to skip to the end of a book to see how it comes out, so writing as if I had done just that is incredibly challenging.

I'm finding that the days when I'm getting the most verbiage written, the days that are at times almost easy, are the days when I'm writing character-based scenes that I didn't plan ahead in any way. I'm making new discoveries and digging into these characters whose names I didn't even know until less than a month ago. At the same time, they are giving me insight into the world they live in, which is incredibly helpful because, dude, what is this world, you know? I still don't even have a name for the city! It's downright nuts. They're letting me in on the technology, the legal structure, the society—because like I said, it's here and now, only it's not quite. It's a little bit left of here and a little more ahead of now.  Think Max Headroom, only less prophetic. (Seriously, that show got way too many things right, and they're not the good things.) What did they say on that show's credits? A week from next Sunday? Something like that.

So I keep plugging away. I have every expectation that I'll reach 50K before the end of the month. I suspect, though, that this manuscript will need more rewriting and editing than any of my previous NaNovels because I can already see where I'm missing including details that would make the world richer and more complete. But that's not what this month is about. This month is about getting words and story out onto the page. Finesse is not part of the equation. That's what December is for. Or January. Or February... Oh, hell. I'll see you in the spring. Maybe.

Can't comment?

I was informed that some folks have been unable to comment here due to some glitch that wouldn't show them the word verification they needed to type in. I have turned that requirement off temporarily. Please, if you've had this problem, comment on this post to let me know and tell me in that post what browser you were using at the time. I'm wondering if it's a browser issue or something else entirely.

Many thanks!

Announcements!

Well, one announcement. My novel Client Privilges is currently out of print (as of 1 Oct). My apologies for not warning you (in case you wanted it but hadn't picked it up yet). I've been so crazy busy lately that I failed to be on top of this impending event. I'm hoping to make the book available again in the near future, and I'll be sure to let you know when that happens. Thanks!

Collaboration

I really enjoy collaborative writing, although I don't get to do it very often these days. Whether that collaboration means crafting a story from beginning to end with a co-author or trading it back and forth round-robin style without a communal clue as to where it's going, I like it. I started doing it back in grade school, in fact. Of course, then it took the form of "I wrote myself into a corner. Here. Write me out of it" along with the handing over of pencil-scribble-covered pages. Usually, it worked. Fresh eyes and a fresh imagination can always see something new. And I would naturally return the favour upon request. That's what partners are for. Writing is so often a solo gig, and sometimes it can get lonely. Sure, all those voices in your head can keep you hopping, but sometimes they clam up, and sometimes you need a break from those fictional people. Having a co-author to turn to, whether it's a means of getting you unstuck when you can't figure out how to get out of the mess you've gotten your characters into, or it's someone to bounce ideas around with until you collectively decide what happens next, can be an invaluable thing. I'm hoping I have the chance to do a bit of co-writing soon. It's going to take an alignment of the stars to make it happen, I fear, but I've got this really big magnet I've been dying to try out, so I'll see if I can't do something about that and the laws of physics be damned.

Getting to "The End"

One of the hardest parts of writing, for me, is finishing a book. It's not so bad with short stories, but novels and novellas? That's another story (so to speak). Starting a story, staring at a blank screen and wondering what to write, is not my problem. Getting through the middle to the climax of a book can be challenging, but is rarely insurmountable. Finishing a manuscript, writing that wrap-up that comes after you've had so much fun writing the climax, which is (let's be honest) the fun part, is the tough bit for me. Sure there are things that need to be tied up, sorted out, and whatnot, but *sigh* I was having so much fun before. The only thing that keeps me pressing forward in that moment where I just want to revert to my lazy nature and say in the words of Maxine the Scottish Tart "Och, I can't be bothered" is knowing that once it's done, I can walk away for a while and do my superiority dance. It looks something like this [dancing] I finished! I finished! I finished! [/dancing] That's what I was doing late last week when I completed the first draft of last year's NaNoWriMo novel. (Don't judge me. It's not November yet. ;-P ) I know I still need to do serious work on the last chapter before I even go back to the beginning to edit it into draft #2, but IT'S DONE, and this makes me happy.

How about you? Whether you write professionally, or you write fanfic on LiveJournal, or you write for yourself and don't share it with anyone else, what's the toughest part of the writing process for you?


Hey! I almost forgot! Thank you to those who've "Liked" my Facebook Page, Maia Strong, Author. If you haven't yet, please pop over, take a look, and if you like it, "Like" it!

Help an actor out?

Jalyn Green surgery fund

On August 13th, moments before the final bows of the season, one of our amazing actors took a hard fall. Not knowing the extent of the damage, Jalyn Green continued onto the stage and limped through his final two scenes of Antony and Cleopatra.

After the show, we sent him to the hospital. The prognosis: a broken fibula that required surgery. The surgery went very well and he is now resting while the plate and pins set in his bone.

Like many actors, Jalyn does not have insurance and works in the service industry. Accidents like this are all of our greatest fear, especially in tough financial times.

GreenStage has created the Jalyn Green Surgery Fund to help this fine young actor with his expenses from the surgery and his anticipated income loss, as he is unable to work for the next few weeks.

Anything you can give is a help and we thank you on his behalf.

Jalyn is shown here as the Soothsayer wtih McKenna Turner in Antony and Cleopatra. Photo by Melizabethe Photogrphy



I don't know Jalyn well, but I've met him a few times and he's a good guy. He's also a wonderful actor and he needs our help. Please click the link up above or right down here and donate whatever you can spare to help him out. Times are tough enough, and when unexpected expenses occur it can be devastating. Just a few moments of your time and a few dollars out of your pocket can make a huge difference here. Skip that latte for one day and donate the $3-$4 to the Jalyn Green Surgery Fund. Please. Every penny helps.

News update

I mentioned recently that I signed the contract for my m/m/f novel Rose & Thorn with Torquere Press. Now, here's a wee bit of blurbage so you can get an idea what the book is about.

Eamon Quinn is an actor with designs on a position with Rose & Thorn Theatrics. As a new university graduate, he's up to the acting challenge, but he's not so sure he's up to facing life in the big city. Fortunately, he quickly finds a friend in Jasper Davison. Jasper is intrigued by Eamon, sure that he's a fellow mountain-born soul, and that's something Jasper's been missing in coastal Yanuk. When both men are hired by Rose & Thorn, the kindred spirits soon become lovers--and catch the eye of the company's head apprentice, troupe musician, and animal wrangler, the pretty and precocious HJ Greenhills.

Bad luck plagues the theatre--accidents, injuries, and a sudden death--leading to rumors of a curse. Weaving sexual energy with Druid magic, Eamon and Jasper seek the truth behind the rumors. But confirming the curse is only the first hurdle. They need figure out who cast it and how to end it before it causes more harm. Even together, the two men aren't strong enough. Druid magic works best in threes, and so they seek HJ's help to lift the curse. The three put their bodies and energies together to call up the magic they need to set things right.

I don't have a release date yet, but I'll let you know when I do.

Also, don't foreget to head over to Facebook, search "Maia Strong, Author" and "like" my page. (I still need some more likes before I get a proper url.)

First Chapter - Preview

The first chapter of False Dawn is online, hosted by the lovely D. Renee Bagby. Go take a read!

Guest Blogging with NNN

Check it out! I'm guest blogging with Nine Naughty Novelists today. Come learn about my writing process--or lack of one! ;-D I'll be checking in throughout the day to answer any questions folks might have, so do stop by and say hello.

Guest Blogger Maia Strong - Symbiosis

Officially Official!

I am happy to officially announce that Torquere Press will be publishing my m/m/f fantasy novel Rose & Thorn! This book just happens to be the second NaNoWriMo novel that I wrote (the first being The Ballad of Jimothy Redwing) and I am so happy that it has at last found a home!

What a great way to start the weekend!

New sale!

I finally sold my m/m/f fantasy novel! I don't have the contract in-hand yet, but they offered, and I accepted. More details to follow once it's all signed and official.

Maia Strong Now on Facebook

Stop the presses! It's true. I have created an author page on Facebook. Maia Strong, Author. I'd put a fancy "Like" button on my website, but hell if I can figure out how. I keep hitting "get code" and I get nothing that I can see. I'm not a technidiot, but clearly I'm out of the loop on this one. If I figure it out, I'll let you know, although by then I hope you'll already have followed that handy link I put in right up there ::points:: and already "Liked" the page. :-)

Holmes/Watson fanfic? FTW!?

Yes. I have indulged in some fanfic. In a universe I've never ficced in before. I have a reason. My friend methylviolet10b wrote a wonderful Holmes/Watson (ACD-verse) fic as a part of the Holmestice Fic Exchange. Her fic, Doors, can be found at this link. It involves closets. And an orgy. And stuff. It's very good and if you have any interest at all in Holmes/Watson fanfic, you should go read it. And her other stuff. (There's a multi-part fic that has quite the delicious baddy in it. I can't recommend it highly enough. It's called Transposition.)

My point? She asked me to write a follow-up fic. Specifically, she asked for Victorian closet smut. (I'll give you a moment to ponder. Done?) I had to oblige. No, really. I had to. How could I resist a request like that? Simple: I couldn't. So now that the authors of the Holmestic fics have been revealed, I can post the follow-up. I hope you like it.

The Request: Holmes/Watson Victorian Closet Smut; ACD -verse

Mild spoilers: Doors by methylviolet10b

Rating: NC-17 for Victorian m/m sex

Beta’d by the recipient, methylviolet10b. (Which seems unfair, but at least she didn’t have to work very hard at it.)

Warnings: 1) It’s been years since I read any ACD canon. 2) Any other warning is implicit in the rating. ;-)

Length:  1400

Closets

by Maia Strong

In this private journal, I  have already noted the details of two particular cases which had little in common on the surface. I refer, of course, to the Adventure of the Amateur Mendicant Society and the Affair of Ex-President Murillo’s Papers. More particularly, I refer to those cases’ closets.

It is not unusual, in the course of our working together, that Holmes and I are required to travel. Moreover, it is a not infrequent occurrence on those occasions that we share overnight lodgings. It is only fiscally practical to share a single room at any given hotel or inn. It is a rare treat, however, when such accommodation affords the luxury of a built-in closet. Aside from being a conveniently out-of-the way place to store extra bedding and to properly hang one’s attire at the end of a long and busy day, they have the additional benefit of being far sturdier and more practicable than an armoire.

I was not born an aficionado of cupboards, wardrobes, and other forms of cabinetry. However, those two aforementioned cases, coinciding as they did with such notable shifts in the relationship between Holmes and myself, have caused me to become something of a connoisseur.

Upon the occasion of which I write now, Holmes and I were staying in a largish country hotel of modern construction. The architect was clearly influenced by the style of Inigo Jones and felt the need, therefore, for theatrical touches such spiralling staircases, white-railed balconies, and Ionic columns. For reasons less apparent but in my opinion more pleasing, he designed inset closets in even the smallest of guest rooms—for surely the one Holmes and I occupied on that particular occasion could not have been smaller without being considered a closet in its own right.

I examined the closet in our room as I unpacked my bag and Holmes’. Holmes was impatient to get onto the case and went ahead to meet with local constabulary. Scotland Yard had alerted them to our impending arrival, and Holmes went to confirm it. I need not go into specifics on either the closet or the case. Suffice to say, the former was sturdily built and comfortable enough for my intended purposes. I smiled to myself and went to join Holmes and attend to the latter.

~~~

The fire was in Holmes’ eye. I’ve seen it often over our years together, whether in the course of a particularly compelling case or in our private doings. Now, the former bled into the latter. The excitement of the chase and subsequent capture of our target had set both our hearts racing. Indeed, I could see the pulse pounding in his neck even at the distance from which I now regarded him. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as well; the chase had been quite literal and had required a good deal of swift footwork and physical exertion to conclude.

I had another sort of physical exertion on my mind as we returned to our hotel in the darkest hours of the night, and I could see from the glance Holmes shot me on our way up one of those spiralling staircases that his mind was on similar thoughts.

I have known Holmes go without speaking for days at a time when absorbed by a particularly puzzling case. It is my belief that his mind becomes so full of activity that words become an unnecessary distraction to him. Such it was with our love-making on many occasions, including the night in question.

Once the door to our little room was locked behind us, all decorum vanished in a heartbeat. His hands were on my shoulders, slipping my overcoat from my shoulders and dropping it to the floor. The room itself afforded minimal space for manoeuvring, and yet it felt too big to me. I wanted no space between or around Holmes and myself and it seemed even in the confines of that hotel room that there was too much. I tugged him towards the closet that I had inspected earlier even as I unbuttoned his waistcoat and proceeded to work my way down the buttons of his shirt.

Holmes did not protest, following willingly to my chosen location for our coupling. We shed our clothing in the short distance. Then I pulled him into the narrow closet and closed the slatted folding door behind us.

The darkness within was nearly absolute, but neither of us needed light to find our way around one another’s bodies. Holmes’ lips were upon mine in the moment the door was shut, his kisses hard and urgent. I returned them with ardour, my hands reaching up to lace into his hair. I grasped the fine strands and held him tight against me.

I could feel the heat and hardness of his passion, equal to my own, where our bodies pressed together along their length. I rolled my hips against it. A muffled sound of pleasure escaped between our mouths, but I could not tell you which of us made the noise.

His hands, that had until that moment grasped me so tightly at the shoulders, slipped downward to cup my buttocks. His fingers were long, lithe, and strong and they dug into my flesh with great skill. The sound that escaped this time was definitely drawn from my throat.

I felt Holmes chuckle deep in his narrow chest and brought my arms around him. I ran my hands down his sides and around his back. I shifted my kisses from his lips to his jaw, rough and unshaven at such a late hour, and then to his trapezius and supraclavicular fossa. He tilted his head back and to the side, affording me greater access to what I knew to be a particularly susceptible area. He shivered under my touch and suddenly pressed his hips so hard against my own that I was forced back against the wall. I was barely aware of the hard plaster against my back, so overwhelmed was I by the feel of Holmes’ body pinning me there.

We moved against one another and I became glad of the architectural support as my climax neared. Blood rushed in my ears, drowning out the soft sounds of pleasure now emanating from us both. Holmes still kneaded my gluteal muscles, fingers honed by years of violin digging in more powerfully than any Turkish bath’s masseur. And when one of those lissom fingers pressed against my anus, I could not hold back another moment.

My body stiffened in the moment before release took me and shook me to my core. I felt the pulse of Holmes’ orgasm even while in the haze of my own. His hands ceased their movements, as did mine, and we simply grasped one another’s posteriors and pressed our erections together. A tiny shift of Holmes’ shaft against mine sent shockwaves through my already heightened senses, and I gasped his name. I was barely aware of his gentle shushing as the last of my orgasm slowly ebbed and sense returned to my addled brain.

As I returned to coherence, I was again glad of the wall at my back and the support of Holmes’ hands holding me tightly, as I believe my legs would not have held me on their own. I felt the wetness between our bellies, slick and warm proof of our mutual spent passions. I opened eyes that I was unaware I had shut and met Holmes’ penetrating gaze mere inches from my own. My pupils had adjusted and I found there was just enough light to see his eyes clearly. There was warmth in their depths, and mirth, and more than anything there was love. I hoped my own returned the same. I felt that surely, with as much deep affection as I felt for him, it must show plainly to the man who was both my lover and the keenest detective in London. Society forced us to keep so much hidden, but in these most personal and private moments, all our masks were obliterated. I smiled and saw a mirroring expression on his face.

Still without a word between us, he opened the closet door and, taking my hand in his, led me out of that deep darkness into a dim, predawn light that seemed to me like the warmest sun of summer.

Revisiting

So, that f/f novel that I wrote very quickly and sent to beta came back from first-round, got edited (and expanded to ~52K so yay that) and is with another beta. I'm hoping I'll get it back this week, or maybe Monday. I really want to get it turned around and subbed as soon as possible. Assuming it's worth subbing. I wrote the draft of the synopsis yesterday. ... I hate writing synopses. But you know that already. I hope the book is better than the synopsis, because, dude, seriously. You know what I mean?

Also, I just started to re-read my YA novel. I finally put it into a font that won't make your eyes bleed. (I guess it's been long enough since I finished the first draft that the main character is willing to let go on that point.) It's really good, IMO, and I don't even feel like I'm bragging because I don't feel like I wrote it. I just channeled the 13-year-old in my head. She's the one who wrote it; I just typed it and clarified a few small points. I think I'm going to ask the YA book club that I'm in to read it. I'd love to hear what they think, get their feedback on it. Then I have to decide whether to sub it somewhere or just self-pub through amazon.com. I really don't know.

Okay. That's it. Summer was yesterday. It was gorgeous. I look forward to it again next year. :-P

Free Preview

Curious to see something other than a steamy snippet? Well, you'll find the first chapter of my latest release, Compass Hearts, right here. Enjoy!

That was interesting...

I finished the manuscript I mentioned recently. It's not quite a novel (~900 words short, d'oh!). It's gone to beta (on which I've asked for a ridiculously quick turn-around). And it's a prime example of what you can accomplish when you get out of your own way. (It also helps to have an arbitrary, semi-self-imposed deadline, but that's another post.) See, I started this particular story in the spring of 2008. I know, I know. No need to tell me how lame I am; I am fully aware. But you see, I was trying to make the story something it wasn't, and so every time I revisited it, I kept getting stuck at roughly the same place.

Cue the arbitrary, semi-self-imposed deadline...

I looked at what I had--and promptly cut 3200 words off the end of it because THEY JUST DIDN'T MATTER. And roughly three weeks later I have a completed almost-novel. (I tried to tip it over the 50K mark, I really did. But the story was having none of it.) I also have a nifty (IMO) new culture and some seriously steamy (IMO) f/f goodness. Now to see what my beleaguered betas have to say. Which reminds me, another friend offered to beta this one. I should see if she was serious. The more the merrier, right?

Oh no she isn't!

Oh no! She is! She's writing about women! *gasp* What can I say? When characters finally start talking to me, I have to listen, and this time the characters are women. Don't worry, though. There are a couple of fellows in my head who have started to chat a bit, too. They're just a lot less forthcoming than the ladies, so I'm afraid they have to wait a little while. Frankly, I'm glad the two pairs aren't fighting for my attention. The gents are being just that, gentlemen, and waiting patiently on the back burner in my brain. It makes for a much saner me. Or should I say much less insane me? That's probably more accurate.

So here's a question for you. Presumably you're here because you love to read m/m stories. But do you dabble in other romantic pairings (or groupings), or are you strictly "Boys Only"?

A Matter of Tense

I've been experiencing an odd phenomenon. Characters are talking to me in first person and (get this) present tense. Think about that. First person. Okay, not so very strange. But present tense? Who does that? I have noticed it's a trend in YA literature, and indeed the 13-year-old girl in my brain told me her story that way. (Note to self, start shopping that manuscript.) But those are stories told from the POV of teens, and there's a large enough part of me that still remembers middle and high schools (gods help me) that this makes sense to me. Show me a teen who isn't living in the moment, and I'll show you a teen who has deeper issues than getting their homework done or whether or not to go to the dance. But adults? That's a different animal all together. Of course that's how we experience life, but fictional characters don't have to. They can have the luxury of having their end, or their destination, or what have you be a known quantity from the beginning. In fact, a lot of times that's preferable from the writer's point of view. This whole present tense thing has got me utterly puzzled.

On the other hand, at least one of the voices in my head is finally talking and making sense, so I guess I should be glad for small favours, right? Let's hope he gets chatty today at the coffee shop because I have two hours to fill there and it'll be awfully lonely if he clams up on me.

Struggling for Inspiration

I've been creatively uninspired for months now. Aside from one adapted short story, I've produced nothing of worth since last November. None of my usual tricks seem to be working to refresh the creative well, either. I blame the weather. No, seriously. So far this year, we have had a single day where the temperature topped 60F--and I wasn't even here to see it. Okay, I was coming home from a visit to one of my dearest friends who happens to live in NYC, and we did have a couple of reasonably sunny days while I was there, but it doesn't appear to have been enough. Funny thing is, I'm not a sunshiney person. I like the rain. I like the overcast skies. But, frankly, even I am fed up with them. I'd swear it's still winter here, except the crocuses are done blooming and the cherry trees are finishing up, too. Theoretically, that means it's spring.

::glances outside::

Yeah. Not so much.

Usually, a change of geography will jump start my creative brain. I figured I'd be all over my computer on the flight home, or at least once I got home. Again, not so much. So I must force myself back to the grind, which shouldn't be such a trial because I enjoy writing...when I'm actually writing.

If you have any tips or tricks that work for you, I'd love to hear them. I can't control the sun and my vacation has yielded nothing but happy memories and a few photographs. What do you find helps you out when you're stuck on the slow boat to meh?

Release Day - Compass Hearts!

That's right! Compass Hearts released today from Torquere! Woot-woot! I'm so excited that this little novella has finally found a home and can now go out to readers who, I hope, will love it as much as I do. It's been a long road for this one, originally written as an anthology submission in 2007. Four years old and it's finally leaving the nest. *teary-eyed* But seriously, I very much hope you like this story. There are sexy college boys and cold winter nights. Put those elements together and what's not to like, right? ;-)


As the fourth son of merchant parents, Matthew Morgan has always been superfluous. The only guidance he ever received was to behave and stay out of the way. Now, at a university half a world away from home, he must discover who he is and what he wants. Too bad he's never made a decision in his life.

When Ash Thearon meets Matthew, the handsome fellow student he's been ogling all quarter, he finds him sweet, sexy, and more than a little puzzling. To solve that puzzle, he must first collect all the pieces, which is easier said than done. The new friends quickly become lovers, but Matthew's sheltered life has taught him only how to follow. Ash wants the give and take of an equal, and Matthew's tendency to try too hard to please others leaves Ash wondering how to teach him independence without losing him.

I think of this as a "quiet" romance. I'm not sure I can define that adequately outside of my own brain, but see if you don't agree with me when you read it. 'Cause you're going to read it, right? I sure hope so. And to make it easier for you, here's a handy link so you can buy it now! :-)

Oh, and there's a bonus scene available either at the above link or over on my website.

Happy release day, everyone!

One Day More!

No, not until a new revival of Les Miserables, until Compass Hearts releases from Torquere!

And, to whet your appetites for sexy college boys, here's an excerpt for you.

***

He barely recognized his own voice as he went on. "The human body is... fascinating." There was a question, an invitation, underlying his statement. He hoped Ash would hear it and understand. Despite this sudden swell of bravery, he knew he couldn't say that out loud.

A slow smile spread across Ash's face. Matthew grinned back, guessing his message had gotten through. His guess was confirmed when Ash asked, "Have you ever had a live model?"

"No." Matthew's cock strained at his breeches. He yearned to draw Ash, see him stripped and posed. He couldn't remember ever wanting anything so much or so urgently in his life.

Then reality crashed down on him. His face fell. "My materials are at my apartment." In the time it took to get there and back, the moment would be beyond lost. And there was no way he was taking Ash back to his flat. He didn't want Ash to see it. It was so unbearably grim, lacking in any charm or comfort, especially when compared to Ash's quirky and inviting room upstairs.

"What do you need?" Ash asked.

"Charcoal pencils, largish paper."

"I have that."

"You do?" Matthew perked up at this spark of hope. It was almost too good to believe. "How? Why?"

"Botany class. We do a lot of plant sketching. I not only have charcoal pencils, I have pressed pigment pencils."

Matthew's eyes lit up and Ash grinned and grabbed his hand. "Come on." Ash pulled him to his feet and toward the stairs.

Matthew's practical side asserted itself and, still clinging to sense, he asked, "What about our books?"

"No one will bother them. Come on!" He practically dragged Matthew from the parlor. By the time their feet hit the stairs, though, Matthew was plenty willing to follow him up.

Inside the cozy comfort of the little attic room, Ash went immediately to the window seat. He opened it and fished around inside, coming up a moment later with a large tablet and a tin box. "Here." He handed the box to Matthew who opened it and looked in wonder at the myriad colored pencils within.

"Where did you get these?" he asked, awed and envious.

"Some of them I bought in town. Some of them my dad gave me before I came here." Ash flipped through the tablet of his botany drawings, Matthew looking over his shoulder. The plants were barely recognizable, and then only because he'd labeled them. "They're awful, I know," said Ash. He pulled a disgusted face. "It's all right to say so."

"I just have one question," said Matthew.

"Yes?" Ash turned and looked up at him. "What?"

"Are you actually passing botany?"

Ash burst out laughing. "All right, Master Critical." He flipped to a blank sheet and shoved the tablet at Matthew. "Let's see you do better."

"That much I can guarantee."

"I've never been an artist's model." Ash's eyes looked deep blue in the lantern light and his voice was husky. "Tell me what to do."

Matthew swallowed hard once. The heat and tightness in his groin were intense, and he was glad for the tablet he held in front of him. What was he thinking? He'd never get through this! Panic began to rise in him, quelling his arousal. No. I want to do this, damn it! Steeling himself and taking control of his fear, he said with as much authority as he could muster, "Strip."

***

And tomorrow I'll have an "author bonus" scene to post both here and over at my website. It will give you a little insight into a lesser-seen character of the novella. I'll also have a buy link so you can be the first on your block to rush out, so to speak, and get a copy. ;-D

It's almost here!

Release day, that is! This Saturday, 2 April, my next novella will be coming out from Torquere, Compass Hearts.

How do you define yourself when others have always done it for you? Half a world from home, Matthew must find the answer before his loses the one man who may truly love him.

As the fourth son of merchant parents, Matthew Morgan has always been superfluous. The only guidance he ever received was to behave himself and stay out of the way. Now, at a new university half a world away from home, he must discover who he is and what he wants. The only trouble is, he's never made a decision in his life.

When Ash Thearon meets Matthew -- the handsome fellow student he's been ogling all quarter -- he finds him sweet, sexy, and more than a little puzzling. To solve that puzzle, he must first collect all the pieces -- something more easily said than done.

The new friends quickly become lovers, but Matthew's sheltered life has taught him only how to follow another's lead. Ash wants more than that; he wants the give and take of an equal. Matthew's tendency to try too hard to please others leaves Ash wondering how to teach him independence without losing him.

And I must give a shout out to Alessia Brio for the gorgeous cover art!

Year of Reading Youthfully - Epilogue

So, if you've been following my YoRY posts, there may be one question as yet left unanswered in your mind: Why is the author of erotic m/m fiction reading young adult novels?

Am I right? ... I thought so.

The simple answer is: Because I like YA fiction. And it's true. I don't like all of it, but I don't like all of any category of books. What I have found lately, though, in returning to the realm of YA, is that a lot of it is, quite frankly, better written than "grown-up" fiction. That's not to say "adult" fiction, with all of its sundry connotations, but books written with non-children as their target audience, whether erotic or otherwise. With a few notable exceptions (::cough::twilight::cough::), we seem to expect more of young adults and children as readers than we do of adults. I'm sure there are many sides to that discussion, and I'm not going to cover them all here because no one person can sum up the whole of literature. That's just a silly idea. But in my experience over the past few years, I've found that I've tossed aside a goodly number of adult-targeted books of a variety of genres because they bored me or they irritated me. (I've tossed aside a couple of YAs for these reasons, too, just so you know.) Either the story was far too simplistic or predictable, or the characters weren't interesting or even likable. In one case (an erotic romance), the title character was, frankly, a loathsome person and I saw no reason to give a damn whether he lived or died. Another book (technically a mystery), which I unfortunately finished because it was for a book club, was utter shit. Award-winning, gods know why, because it was GARBAGE. (On the up side of finishing it, one does like to be fully knowledgeable about one's subject when eviscerating it with friends.)

The books I have continued to read and finish (or intend to finish) for my own enjoyment have a high expectation of the reader. Boneshaker and The Ark, for example, are both books that expect a certain level of attention, comprehension, and retention from their readers, and that makes me more interested and excited to actually read them. They make me think while at the same time providing me with an escape and entertainment. Maybe that's why I've been diggin' on the YA so much. It takes a lot to get a teenager to sit down and focus on something that isn't a video game, or a TV show or movie, or any one of far too many means of social media and electronic communication. We're all moving too fast these days, and it seems to me the current teen/tween generation are taking the brunt of it. So, to get one of them to sit down, slow down, and read tens of thousands of words on a single subject... Well, you'd better be damned good at what you do to make that happen.

So there it is, for what it's worth. And now if you'll excuse me, I have a stack of books awaiting my attention. :-D

Defying Definition - YoRY Part 7

Okay, so that heading's not entirely true. The last two books from my Year of Reading Youthfully aren't hard to categorize on their own, they simply don't belong in any of the previous categories, nor do they fit together in one.

First, there's Spanking Shakespeare by Jake Wizner, which is essentially your basic contemporary YA fiction. I picked this book up at Powell's in Portland, OR, because of the title and because the staff recommendation card said it was "the raunchiest book I've read...on this floor." "This floor" being the one that houses the Children's, Middle Readers, and Young Adult books. I thought at the time that with a title like that and a recommendation like that, it must be worth checking out. So I read the back and promptly put it in my basket.  Here's what the back of the book says:
"Shakespeare has always hated his name. His parents bestowed it on him as some kind of sick joke when he was born, and since then his life has been one embarrassing incident after another. But Shakespeare will have the last laugh. He is chronicling every mortifying detail in his memoir, the writing project each senior at Shakespeare's high school must complete. And he is doing it brilliantly. For as much as he hates his name, Shakespeare is a good writer. And, just maybe, a prizewinning memoir will bring him respect, admiration, and a girlfriend . . . or at least a prom date."

So, you see why I couldn't resist. And it's written in two styles, although both are the voice of the title character, Shakespeare Shapiro. (His more popular younger brother is name Gandhi, by the way.) The narrative goes back and forth between his daily life, written in first person, present tense which seems to be a popular format these days with YA books, and the assignments he is given for his senior writing project, i.e. his memoir. In both, however, he tends to cast himself as the hapless victim. Now, lest that sound too irritating for you, it is done with such good humour and honesty that I never once got fed up with his "poor me" point of view. Fact: His little brother is cooler and more popular. Fact: His parents are nut-jobs, well-meaning as they might be. But also fact: His life is put in perspective when he gets to know another student in his memoir class and discovers just how normal and lucky his life really is in comparison to some. Yes, the boy can learn!

A friend gave me Jake Wizner's second book, Castration Celebration!, for Solstice, and I'm looking forward to reading it!

Second, there is The Boneshaker by Kate Milford, which is magical realism. I picked up this book by accident. See, I went to the library to put a hold on Boneshaker by Cherie Priest (which is flipping awesome, by the way. Go read it!). I wasn't paying very close attention and I put a hold on The Boneshaker first. I was going to cancel that hold until I read the book blurb and I thought, "Well, that sounds cool!"

I was right.

 Here's what Goodreads says:
"Thirteen-year-old Natalie Minks loves machines, particularly automata—self-operating mechanical devices, usually powered by clockwork. When Jake Limberleg and his traveling medicine show arrive in her small Missouri town with a mysterious vehicle under a tarp and an uncanny ability to make Natalie’s half-built automaton move, she feels in her gut that something about this caravan of healers is a bit off. Her uneasiness leads her to investigate the intricate maze of the medicine show, where she discovers a horrible truth and realizes that only she has the power to set things right."

It's set in a little town in the flat middle of the U.S. in 1914. Near a crossroads where once thriving, now ghost-, town stands. In short: mysterious illness; traveling medicine show; clockwork automata with no source of power; and a bicycle no one can ride. Oh, and you know who you're likely to meet at a crossroads, don't you? Better be sure you know what you're doing before you make a deal with him.

I love magical realism! I wouldn't be completely hooked on Jack Flanders if I didn't. The Boneshaker is about a regular 13-year-old girl dealing with extraordinary events that turn her ordinary world on its ear. Of course, it's not that simple, but I don't want to spoil things for you. Natalie is bold and brave and foolhardy and vulnerable and absolutely real. The author totally nailed the voice of the character and immediately drew me into her world and her story. (Unlike The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, which is garbage. Don't waste your time. It jumped the shark in the first paragraph.)

So there you have it. My Year of Reading Youthfully. Of course, I'm still grooving on my YA novels. I have three new ones from NZ to read, you know! Plus the new Wizner I mentioned above, and the others I've mentioned in previous posts. So it's not like I'm stopping just because a year is up (and has been for a while now), it's just that I can only keep so much information in my memory for so long. And now it's here for you to read. I hope you check out some, or indeed all, of the books I've talked about. You'll find them worth your while and you might rediscover something in yourself while you're at it.

Thanks for reading and I'll see you around again soon. After all, I have a book coming out in less than a fortnight! ;-)

YA Books from NZ!

The books I ordered from NZ arrived today! Yay! Very excited to have the rest of the Blood of the Lamb trilogy and Banquo's Son to read. But first I really should finish the books I'm already reading.

I Haz Art!

Cover art, that is! Check out the pretty while I try to infuse enough caffeine into my blood to get me past this stupid Daylight Savings time change. *yawn*


That's nice to wake up to, though. Isn't it? Counting down until my 2 April release date!

YA Lit of New Zealand - YoYR Part 6

Last time I mentioned that I'd read some YA books by New Zealand authors. Sadly, only two so far, but three more are on their way from Wellington to me at this very moment. Woot! Two of those books are #2 & 3 in The Blood of the Lamb Trilogy. The first book, The Crossing, is one I picked up in a Whitcoull's Bookstore on Cashel Mall in Christchurch. (OT: Please consider donating to NZ Red Cross (2011 Earthquake Appeal) or NZ SPCA (Canterbury SPCA Earthquake Appeal) or any other charitable organization you like to the help with Chch earthquake recovery efforts.)

The Crossing (Blood of the Lamb Book #1) by Mandy Hager. I'm not sure how to sum this one up for you and I don't really like the blurb behind that link there. Hmm... Ah! This one from the Whitcoull's website is better:
"The Crossing is the first book in a stunning new trilogy that follows the fate of Maryam and her unlikely companions - Joseph, Ruth, and Lazarus. This is fast, suspenseful drama underpinned by a powerful and moving story about love and loss. The people of Onewere, a small island in the Pacific, know that they are special - chosen to survive the deadly event that consumed the Earth. Now, from the rotting cruise ship Star of the Sea, the elite control the population - manipulating old texts to set themselves up as living 'gods'. But what the people of Onewere don't know is this: the leaders will stop at nothing to meet their own blood-thirsty needs. When Maryam crosses from child to woman, she must leave everything she has ever known and make a crossing of another kind. But life inside the ship is not as she had dreamed, and she is faced with the unthinkable: obey the leaders and very likely die, or turn her back on every belief she once held dear."

Even better is the cover quote from renowned NZ Children's Lit author Margaret Mahy (who I'll talk about in a minute): "Like '1984' for teenagers - direct, passionate and powerful". Just think about that for a minute and if it doesn't make you go "Whoa" you're not reading right. Read it again. ... Got it now? Yeah. That's what I'm talking about.

This book covers all sorts of issues from religious hypocrisy to forced breeding. In short, not your usual YA fare. It does it in such a skilled fashion that I had some seriously visceral reactions to some of the scenes, although no scene crossed the line, if you know what I mean. The young characters learn a lot in this first book and it's a helluva a way to grow up too fast. The world they live in is harsh and tightly controlled. Strict lines are drawn and you're damned, pretty much literally, if you dare to so much as question them. This isn't YA for the timid reader and I love that about it. When the U.S. is caught up in the pablum that is Twilight-mania (Yes, I said it and I stand behind it.), NZ is putting out truly amazing books for teens. Well-written and with powerful and empowering (Gods, I hate that word, but there you have it.) themes. The heroine, Maryam, has to reassess her entire world in the face of newly-discovered truth. She has to redefine who she is without the labels and locks that others have put on her. I can't wait for the other two books to arrive in my mailbox so I can read the rest! (The third book coming is Banquo's Son. The first in a trilogy about Fleance. You know, the only boy in Shakespeare's Macbeth who doesn't snuff it at the hands Mackers or his henchmen. I should've bought it when I was there but, damn, books are pricey in NZ, and this one was heavy, too. I didn't want to haul around it in my already stuffed luggage. So now I'm paying shipping instead of tax, and I have to wait. D'oh!)

The other book I picked up while in Chch was Kaitangata Twitch by Margaret Mahy. The clerk who helped me at the bookstore was astonished that I'd never heard of her. All I could really offer was the fact that I was an ignorant American. :-( If it's not American or English, we don't get it in our bookstores/libraries. Hell, we don't even get Canadian lit unless we go looking for it--in Canada. Anywho, I discovered this (or rather my hubby did) on our flight from Sydney, Aus, to Christchurch, NZ. They've made a TV series out of it and there were, allegedly, a few half-hour eps available in-flight. Sadly, I couldn't get any of them to work. (I got to watch Cosi instead, though, so I'm not bitter.)

This book is what I would call magical realism. Here's what the Whitcoull's site (linked above) says:
"Kaitangata is an island with a rocky fist punching skywards. Kaitangata seems to have a will of its own, and a voice, although only Meredith can hear it...'What we need is a powerful enchantress,' Meredith cried. 'Someone who could put a spell on Marriott.' As she spoke, a strange thought came into her head, running round and round inside her like a mouse on a pet-shop wheel. It was not a thought she could share, for it had a wickedness hidden in it and Meredith did not want anyone to know just how wicked she could be, even if it was only in her dreams. Can Meredith save the island from an unscrupulous developer? How could the dreamer of the family succeed where grown-ups have failed? Only Kaitangata can tell..."

They call it "a spellbinding supernatural thriller", and that's a fair categorization, too. The fantastical lives hand-in-hand with the everyday. This book is about the power of the Earth itself and one girl's connection to it. It reminds me a little of The Dark is Rising Sequence. Natural elements beyond "ordinary" reality that have a direct effect on "ordinary" and not-so-ordinary people. I love when a character is faced with something so powerful that she can't quite wrap her head around it and yet she embraces the challenge and achieves more than she thinks she can. This is an awesome lesson for anyone at any age.

Last installment coming next time. I'll talk a little more about magical realism and what happens when you don't pay attention to what you reserve at the library, and "the raunchiest book" on the Children's Books floor of Powell's in Portland.

International Sex Worker Rights Day

Did you know that March 3 was International Sex Worker Rights Day? Nor did I until I saw a link on Babeland's Facebook page and followed it to this Babeland Blog Post. I wish I had known. I'd've prepared an interview with Micah Hartshorn, one of the heroes from my novel Client Privileges. For those who haven't met Micah, he is a sex worker or, in the simpler parlance of his culture, a professional whore. In the city of Korpi, the Whores' Guild is like any other professional Guild. Think of it as a union, a union with rules that must be followed but which also protects its members' health, safety, and livelihood. I'm sure he would have a great deal to say about how our culture should decriminalize and destigmatize his chosen profession. He could talk about the rights his government gives him through the Guild, like the right to refuse service to any client; or the benefits it provides, like quarterly heath screenings and free birth control for men and women. He could talk about industry-standard pricing structures, seniority, and job security. But when it comes down to it, he'd probably rather talk about the work itself--as long as it didn't violate client privacy regulations. But, in lieu of all that, maybe you should just go read, or re-read, the book. I'm sure Micah wouldn't mind. ;-)

Upcoming New Release

I have a release date for my latest novella! Compass Hearts will be available from Torquere Press on 2 April! To whet your appetites, here is an (unedited) excerpt from the book.

****

Compass Hearts by Maia Strong

He barely recognized his own voice as he went on. "The human body is...fascinating." There was a question, an invitation, underlying his statement. He hoped Ash would hear it and understand. Despite this sudden swell of bravery, he knew he couldn't say that out loud.

A slow smile spread across Ash's face. Matthew grinned back, guessing his message had gotten through. His guess was confirmed when Ash asked, "Have you ever had a live model?"

"No." Matthew's cock strained at his breeches. He yearned to draw Ash, see him stripped and posed. He couldn't remember ever wanting anything so much or so urgently in his life.

Then reality crashed down on him. His face fell. "My materials are at my apartment." In the time it took to get there and back, the moment would be beyond lost. And there was no way he was taking Ash back to his flat. He didn't want Ash to see it. It was so unbearably grim, lacking in any charm or comfort, especially when compared to Ash's quirky and inviting room upstairs.

"What do you need?" Ash asked.

"Charcoal pencils, largish paper."

"I have that."

"You do?" Matthew perked up at this spark of hope. It was almost too good to believe. "How? Why?"

"Botany class. We do a lot of plant sketching. I not only have charcoal pencils, I have pressed pigment pencils."

Matthew's eyes lit up and Ash grinned and grabbed his hand. "Come on." Ash pulled him to his feet and toward the stairs.

Matthew's practical side asserted itself and, still clinging to sense, he asked, "What about our books?"

"No one will bother them. Come on!" He practically dragged Matthew from the parlor. By the time their feet hit the stairs, though, Matthew was plenty willing to follow him up.

Inside the cozy comfort of the little attic room, Ash went immediately to the window seat. He opened it and fished around inside, coming up a moment later with a large tablet and a tin box. "Here." He handed the box to Matthew who opened it and looked in wonder at the myriad colored pencils within.

"Where did you get these?" he asked, awed and envious.

"Some of them I bought in town. Some of them my dad gave me before I came here." Ash flipped through the tablet of his Botany drawings, Matthew looking over his shoulder. The plants were barely recognizable, and then only because he'd labeled them. "They're awful, I know," said Ash. He pulled a disgusted face. "It's all right to say so."

"I just have one question," said Matthew.

"Yes?" Ash turned and looked up at him. "What?"

"Are you actually passing Botany?"

Ash burst out laughing. "All right, Master Critical." He flipped to a blank sheet and shoved the tablet at Matthew. "Let's see you do better."

"That much I can guarantee."

"I've never been an artist's model." Ash's eyes looked deep blue in the lantern light and his voice was husky. "Tell me what to do."

Matthew swallowed hard once. The heat and tightness in his groin were intense and he was glad for the tablet he held in front of him. What was he thinking? He'd never get through this! Panic began to rise in him, quelling his arousal. No. I want to do this, damn it! Steeling himself and taking control of his fear, he said with as much authority as he could muster, "Strip."

****

Hopefully that's piqued your interest. ;-) I should have a cover to share with you next time I'm here, so keep your eyes peeled for that, too!