Chicks & Dicks

Out with Slash, In with Non-trad Heroes

2012-01-31T06:00:00.000-08:00

We spent January looking at one of the many places male-maleerotica/romance is fed by—slash. I don’t know that much about slash,personally. Compared to what I knew in December, I’m light years from where Istarted, but I’m still no afficianado. I have a pretty good bibliography tostart with, now.

In spite of not knowing that much about slash, I had a fewideas about it and how it has informed the male-male romance genre. It’s hardnot to have some ideas about it when you write in the genre. So far, afterlooking at slash in depth, I’m pretty sure my main idea has held up: a lot oftropes that we see in M/M (and sometimes nowhere else) have roots in slash.

One of those tropes is Gay-for-You/Out-for-You. That’ssomething we’ll be looking at more closely in April, when we spend a wholemonth posting about it. I think it’s one of the stronger tropes that has sprungmostly from slash rootstock.

Photo credit: farconville

Another thing that I think has been influenced by slash arethe types of heroes we see in M/M original fiction. The slash influence on M/Mheroes is more subtle than with the GFY/OFY trope. It’s not like you don’t see vampires and shape-shifters inlots of other media, or law enforcement professionals in romance. But when Ilook at the shows and other media that people tend to get slashy with, copshows and the suprenatural are pretty well-represented. It’s impossible todiscount the effect something like Brokeback Mountain had on slash and later onthe proliferation of cowboy heroes in M/M. I bet, per capita, there are as manycowboys in M/M as there are red-heads in het romance (i.e., far more than thecurrent world population supports).

It’s not a hard and fast rule that heroes that do well inslash will do well in M/M, since a lot of slash comes from sci-fi, most notablyStar Trek. In M/M, sci-fi tends not to do as well as the cowboys and cops.Harry Potter created a huge influx in slash writers, but we don’t see that manyheroes in M/M who are wizards—although I’ve read a few. I could spend some timearguing for Harry Potter’s influence on vampires/shape-shifters/elves/etc, butI’ll spare you.

My point is this: a lot of M/M writers began in slash, and alot of current slash writers are interested in making the jump from fanfic tooriginal. Once a writer has made that jump, they are in a new world, where someof the tropes and conventions from fanfic carry over, but others don’t. It canpush people out of their comfort zone, and right into a whole new world to playwith. A world of their own making. A world where their hero’s traits and life pathare completely up to them.

So, if that’s true, what’s with the proliferation of M/Mheroes who are in law enforcement, cow enforcement, blood-sucking and/orshape-shifting? Is it me, or does it seem like there’s a hell of a lot of thoseguys around popping up in gay romance? Where are the accountants and theinvestment bankers and the mid-level managers?

Okay, fine, so a hero in mid-level management isn’tparticularly interesting unless he’s also a werewolf, or even just moonlightsas a stripper, but still, there’s a whole lot of ground to be covered inthe world of M/M erotica that hasn’t yet been explored. And all of it holdspotential for interest. What about the hero who isn’t going to come out in somegrand fashion to the world, like, ever?What about the hero who really is the stereotype people imagine when they think“gay guy”?

I could go on about what it is I wonder at night (when I’mnot plotting out sex scenes or *ahem*researching) about the emerging M/M hero, but I won’t. ‘Cause guess what themonth of February is themed here at Chicks & Dicks? You got it, hon, Non-traditional Heroes.

We’re beginning Non-traditional Heroes month with a postfrom Lou Harper, who has a new release, AcademicPursuits. I beta’ed Academic Pursuits,and it’s a story I highly recommend…if you aren’t expecting a traditional M/Mhero. The story is told all from one hero’s perspective, and he’s a slut. Louwill help you get into Jamie’s head a little on Thursday the second.

On Saturday the fourth K.Z. Snow is explaining all thereasons we need more of the regular guys in M/M, and she explains it (andcelebrates the regular guy) far better than I can. So mostly I’m going to lether do it. I’ll just say: what K.Z. said.

Later in the month (seriously, you must have noticed by nowI don’t really schedule much in advance), we’ll have Thorny Sterling telling uswhat kinds of heroes he’d like to see in M/M, the Smexy Grammarian will beback, Marie Sexton will drop by, Dr. Porne is going to wax eloquent on thehairy male (get it? Hehe, “wax”), and, of course, we’ll have tons more.

So, drop on by Chicks & Dicks in February, it’s going tobe an interesting one.

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, M/M, and Me

2012-01-29T06:00:00.000-08:00

How did I find M/M? Like a lot of people, it seems, I got my start in fanfiction. I've been writing fanfiction my entire life. Only, when I was five and making little booklets for Rainbow Brite, I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't even know there was a name for it until I was in college with the internet at my fingertips and discovered there were other people who did the same thing.

I've always wanted to write for a living. No, not a journalist, or anything remotely close. I wanted to write fun, exciting things. My mind was always teeming with ideas that needed to be written down and I didn't want to bother with anything else in my life that would take away from my writing. The only problem was, in the beginning my ideas only worked out in fanfiction, and you can't get paid for writing fanfic. But you've got to start somewhere. Right?

Back in the late 1990's there was a little known TV show called The Net, which featured among it's small-time cast, the young man who would soon become my favorite actor, Eric Szmanda. This show only had one season, though I wrote for it for several years.

And then CSI: Crime Scene Investigation came into my life when I realized Eric Szmanda was a regular guest star before he became part of the main cast. I began to wonder what the fanfiction was like for it. I'd never considered writing for CSI, because there wasn't much personal information about the characters given on the show. But I went online and looked some up, expecting to find a mirror of an actual episode. What I found surprised the heck out of me.

Fans were pairing up all sorts of characters with each other in romantic relationships, commonly referred to as a “ship”. Since I'd come from smaller cast shows where the main relationship is pretty obvious, I was surprised at all the relationship possibilities people were putting together. They saw the subtext I was missing out on! Each of these ships had a nickname. Grissom and Sara were called GSR. In long hand that means Grissom Sara Romance, though on the show when they refer to GSR they mean Gun Shot Residue. Sara and Greg, meanwhile, were called Sandles, which was a meshing of their last names, Sidle and Sanders.

But the biggest surprise for me, was the ship known simply as The Love. This ship stands for Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders. Of course, who plays Greg? Eric Szmanda. It was my first view of slash fiction and it included my favorite actor. I was so shocked I walked away. Fast.

It was months before I went back to try slash fanfic again. But I did. Curiosity got the better of me, and I soon fell in love with the boys.

The Love got its name because the fans wanted something that was simple, pure, and romantic. To them, and to me, their relationship was simply about love. I got to know the people who'd started the fan base for The Love, and hearing the reasoning behind the nickname made me love it that much more. It wasn't a mashing of names, or something related to their hobbies or jobs, like Warrick and Catherine's ship name Yo!Bling or Sophia and Jim's which was Cuff'Em. It was simple, and beautiful.

I began to see the subtext I'd been missing for years, and once I saw it, there was no going back. Once I started writing for The Love the reviews didn't hurt either. I loved getting them and some of them were the best I'd ever gotten. I wouldn't put myself on a pedestal, but there were other writers who were stunned when I would review their work. Little old me was becoming someone many seemed to look up to. It was, and still is, an odd feeling.

I had gone through grad school and finally gotten a good paying job so I could support myself, but I still had that itch to write something that could be published for real one day. I keep saying to this day, if I was homeless and you offered me a choice between the hot burger or the pen and paper, and I could only choose one, I'd take the pen and paper every time.

The first M/M novel I read was Slave Boy by Evangeline Anderson, though I've long since forgotten exactly how I stumbled across it. Several years later, it's still one of my favorites and I've now got an entire bookcase dedicated to this wonderful genre.

Once I'd started reading M/M, it became clear which direction my novel writing should take. For years, I'd been trying to write original fiction without much luck. It all sucked, and I didn't know why. I only knew that my fanfiction thrived. Until the day I realized I'd been pairing up all the wrong characters. ;-)

I currently have an M/M sci-fi short story entitled “Finding Home” in the free anthology Don't Read In The Closet Vol 2 available on Goodreads.com. I'm also working feverishly on my first M/M suspense novel, which I'm looking forward to getting published one of these days. The plot bunnies for original fiction just keep breeding with each other now, and I'm happy to say I will not lack for ideas for at least the next few years.

If you want to know more about CSI and its ships, you can find the official fan wiki here: www.csi.wetpaint.com

If you would like to read my fanfiction, under the penname QueenOfTheUniverse, you may find it here www.fanfiction.net/~QueenOfTheUniverse and here www.QueenOfTheUniverse.wetpaint.com

And if you are looking for exceptional fanfiction written by others for The Love you can go to my fanfiction.net page and from there, click on the tab labeled “favorites”.

As for my original fiction, my official website is here: www.jordanlombard.wordpress.com

Much Love, Peace, and Happiness,

Jordan Sophia Lombard

Ameriglish and Britglish - by the Smexy Grammarian

2012-01-28T06:00:00.000-08:00

Two Sides of the Same Coin Purse

Let’s face it; fans from both sides of the pond enjoy fandoms from both sides of the pond. That’s the beauty of global communication. But if an American wants to write fanfic for BBC Merlin or a Brit/Aussie/Non-American wants to write fanfic for Supernatural, knowing the speech and spelling conventions of the fandom’s origin will add authenticity to that story.

I’m going to give a brief introduction into the differences between American English and British English, with some further resources to help write that delicious Harry/Draco story tumbling around in your brain.

Spelling

Color/Colour

Britglish tends to use the ending –our where Ameriglish eliminates that <i>u</i>.

Forward/Forwards

Britglish tends to use the ending –wards where Ameriglish eliminates that final <i>s</i>.

Recognize/Recognise

Many s sounds in Britglish turn into the harder z sound in Ameriglish, especially in –ize/–ise endings.

Leaped/Leapt

While Ameriglish usually simplifies spellings (no u, nos), one exception is the past tense verb ending. Britglish likes a –t ending, whereas Ameriglish uses –ed.

Gray/Grey

In Sherlock Holmes’s England, the sky is always grey. In Forks, Washington (the home of Twilight), the sky is always gray.

[Hunger Games]

“Can you do me a favor?” Peeta asked, his gray shirt clinging to him in the summer heat.

Gale’s body heated when he realized the other boy had stepped toward him. “What?”

Peeta leaned into him. “Kiss me.”

[Merlin BBC]

Merlin pouted, his eyes nearly grey in the pre-dawn light. “I labour all day for you, you know!”

Arthur took a step backwards. “Do you want me to apologise for making you do your job?”

“No, but you are very spoilt,” Merlin returned.

“Which only means I know how to spoil you sometimes.”

Merlin paused. “Point taken.”

Phrasing

in the hospital/in hospital

When an American needs surgery, he’ll go to the hospital. When a British English speaker needs surgery, he’ll go to hospital, unless he’s referring to a specific hospital, and then he’d say he’s going to the [hospital name].

going on vacation/going on holiday

Ameriglish speakers take vacations from work, while Britglish speakers take holidays.

[Star Trek]

“Dammit, Jim,” McCoy said, “I’m a man, not a machine, and we’re taking a vacation when we get back to Earth.”

“Fine with me,” Kirk said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

[Lord of the Rings]

Inside Helm’s Deep, Legolas listened to the orc army’s war cry. He turned to Aragorn.

“Perhaps we should go on holiday after all this,” he said with a small smile.

Aragorn merely clasped the elf’s shoulder in agreement.

Clothing

Underwear/Pants

Ah, those pieces of fabric we love our fandom men to strip off of each other. In Ameriglish, men (and women) wear underwear (boxers, briefs, tighty whities, etc) under their jeans. In Britglish, however, men wear pants (women wear knickers) under their jeans.

Pants/Trousers

Which brings us to the next question: what goes over underwear/pants? In Ameriglish, the legs wear pants, jeans, shorts, etc. In Britglish, the legs wear trousers, jeans, shorts (refers specifically to casual athletic wear), etc.

[X-Men]

Logan tensed when the door to his room burst open. He managed to keep from attacking only because he recognized the man who had barged in. “What do you want?” he asked gruffly.

Scott took in Logan’s mostly naked body for a long moment before replying, “The Professor wants to see all of us.”

“Well that’s fine, but I don’t appreciate being caught with my pants down.” Logan pulled on jeans over his underwear.

Scott smirked. “I sure do.”

[Pride and Prejudice]

Darcy looked at the other man askance. “Bingley, I don’t think—”

“Nonsense, Darcy!” Bingley interrupted jovially, removing his trousers and standing beside the bed in only his pants. “You think entirely too much. Now come over here.”

Darcy sighed but acquiesced.

Expletives

Okay, this is the part you skipped down to, right? So you most likely already know about the ass/arse difference. If you’ve seen the Angelina Jolie Tomb Raider movies, you’re probably also familiar with the British slang “bugger,” which is similar to the American “damn.” Although using “bugger” as a verb has a history of meaning “to fuck,” and “fuck” originated in Ameriglish but has migrated overseas with generally the same coarseness.

What you probably didn’t know, however, is that some words might be benign in one dialect but vulgar in the other.

[Criminal Minds]

Reid slipped on the rainy sidewalk, and Morgan jogged to his side.

“Come on, kid. No need to fall on your fanny just for me.”

[Harry Potter]

”What’s the matter, Potter?” Draco said tightly. He waved his hands over his naked body. “You’d choose a fanny over this?”

In Ameriglish, a fanny is a mild term for a buttox, behind, ass. This is NOT the case for Britglish; it’s a coarse term for a vagina. So American tourists to the UK, beware: it’s a bum bag, not a fanny pack. Let’s not think of what a fanny pack actually refers to in Britglish.

Like I said, this was the briefest of introductions into English dialects. For more information, these communities have extensive information on almost any English topic and ways for you to ask your own questions.

Links

http://hp-britglish.livejournal.com/profile: Britglish geared toward Harry Potter fans

http://dw-britglish.livejournal.com/profile: Britglish geared toward Doctor Who fans

http://brits-americans.livejournal.com/profile: general America/Britain community

http://fandom-isle-ooc.livejournal.com/49539.html: common Britglish mistakes

http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brit-pick: history of Brit-picking (asking someone to check a fanfic for Britglish accuracy)

The Final Frontier by Sue Holston

2012-01-26T06:00:00.000-08:00

We’re Sue and Holly, the writing team of Sue Holston. We’d like tothank Anne and Taylor for inviting us to their blog. Our first novella, In the Name of the Law was released byTotal E Bound on January 16, 2012 in the anthology, His Hero and as astandalone novel on February 13th. To celebrate, we are offering up a free copyof His Hero to one lucky commenter, so please leave your name and e-mailaddress in this thread.

Sue and I got our start in slash fandoms, so here’s ourback-story…

H.L. Holston:

I first started reading fan fiction in 1995, when I foundthe TV show Forever Knight on lateone night. I wanted Nick and Natalie, two of the main characters to be togetherromantically—something that was not happening on the show—so I searchedthe very new Prodigy forums for stories that would satisfy my Nick/Natalieneeds and actually found some! I was in heaven. As a series romance reader,fanfic hit all my needs for romance that I wasn’t getting on my favorite televisionshows.

Fast forward a few years later, again watching television inthe middle of the night, I came upon some old reruns of Star Trek on the Sci-Fi channel. In particular, the “Amok Time”episode (aka the episode where Spock goes into heat). Now, I had watched Star Trek reruns as a kid and liked theshow…but this time, the sexual chemistry between Kirk and Spock seemed toliterally jump off my television screen. I screamed in my head: They Are So Doin’It! Then, I ran for the Internet and found some K/S slash fiction. Plus,considering the fact the Kirk/Spock pairing is the grand-daddy of all slashfandoms—there were at least 30 years of it on the Internet and in zines (“Aninexpensively produced, self-published, underground publication.”)—I was overwhelmed at the amount offic out there! (Really, you could read three K/S stories a day for the rest ofyour life and probably not cover all the Kirk/Spock goodness out there.) I washooked. In that instant, I became a die-hard slasher.

Finding slash was an eye-opening experience. While I hadheard of slash in The X-Files fandom,it wasn’t my thing as I was a die-hard Mulder/Scully shipper, but the conceptof the genre wasn’t new to me. In all my years of watching television, I hadnever seen the sexual tension between two men as something that I would enjoy-- or find believable. However, “Amok Time” changed all that. I now saw slashpossibilities everywhere: The Sentinel,Smallville and Stargate Atlantis.Slash opened up new possibilities for me, including writing. While I hadwritten a few het Forever Knightstories, once I found slash I began writing like a mad woman. I’ve written innumerous fandoms over a 17 year period and I credit fan fiction in helping mestart my m/m writing career in learning about characterization, developing aplot, setting and getting and reviewing feedback and constructive criticism.Although I haven’t written fanfic in nearly a year -- as I’ve been working on anew original novel – I still enjoy reading the occasional slash story and I amhappy to admit my origins are in slash fandom.

S. A. Holston:

When I was a kid of 15, (a very long time ago!) afriend and I used to write stories together about the players of Norwich CityFootball Club. (I’m a Brit, and I’m talking about soccer here.) Thestories were what I later discovered to be slash. We wrote about Napoleon andIllya from Man From Uncle too, andalthough those stories were discarded as soon as we’d giggled about them, thatrevealed my interest to me. I thought I was alone for years, and somehow alittle bit deviant.

Fast forward to 1994 and thearrival of Alex Krycek on The X-Files. I don’t know what it was about that character but I instantly paired himwith Mulder in all the most sexually explicit ways that I could possiblyimagine. I’d written a couple of Mulder/Scully stories -- my very first forayinto writing fanfic -- but my heart wasn’t in it, and I knew what my ‘one truepairing’ had to be, and I wrote my first real slash fic. Tentatively I lookedaround the Internet to see if there actually was any Mulder/Krycek out there,and hit the mother lode. There was a whole mailing list devoted to it, withpeople who posted stories every day! I had found my home and plunged inhappily.

I wrote Mulder/Krycek for years, and still throwKrycek into stories from time to time, but gradually progressed from X-Files to other fandoms like Roswell, Highlander and Supernatural. I joined a role playinggroup online, and ran several characters there for several years, trying tokeep them in character while interacting with others. That was a valuableexercise, but still dependent on someone else’s characters. It was only when mywriting partner, Holly, bugged me that I even thought of writing originalfiction although I’ve done a fair bit of non-fictional humor pieces. When shesuggested writing an original story it felt like a logical progression, and Ithink that fan fiction has helped me develop the skills I needed to branch outinto building my own characters. As yet I haven’t cannibalized any of my fanfiction to transform it into an original story, but I am sure that it’s reallyonly a matter of time before that happens. I have a vast number of stories towork through.

I still write fanfic. So often, the characters I lovedon’t do what I want them to on the shows I watch. I can fix that, so Ido. My own original characters are much better behaved for me, andalthough it’s a medium I’m really only now starting to explore, I’m enjoyingthe ride, but it’s all due to that grounding I’ve had in fan fiction.

*~*~*

As for future projects, we are trying to finish up ourlatest novel, Rock Star, set in thecrazy world of a dysfunctional rock and roll band. Separately, Holly has ashort story, Coffee, Tea and the MileHigh Club that will be published by Silver Publishing in May under the nameH.L. Holston.

We’d love to hear from readers, and enjoy feedback. You canalways contact on our blog, Livejournal or via e-mail: sue_holston@hotmail.com. Thank youfor reading!

Beeeeeeeeep! Chicks & Dicks Alert

2012-01-25T06:00:00.000-08:00

This is not a test.

This is an alert of the Chicks and Dicks Emergency Alert System.

Please standby for information on the nature of the alert.

Today on S.L. Armstrong's blog, she is discussing recycling fanfic/slash into publishable, original fiction. If you read Julianne Bentley's post on this topic last week, and would like to investigate the subject further, check out S.L.'s blog.

This has been an alert of the Chicks and Dicks Emergency Alert System (CaDEAS)

Iceman Cometh by Cherie Noel

2012-01-24T07:00:00.000-08:00

Top Gun Slash by Cherie Noel

Maverick pushed past the grunt blocking the entry to the bar, Goose riding his shoulder like always. He loved Goose like a brother, but man, sometimes he wished he could shake the guy just for an hour or two. It was damn hard to get laid when your happily heterosexual wingman was hanging over your left shoulder and your gate swung in the opposite direction.

Music blared from the jukebox, some ear assaulting mix of pop and rock. Maverick eased his aviator shades up his forehead until they rested in his hair. Casting a quick gaze around he spotted about ten straight couples, a double handful of horny airmen and two or three single girls looking to get lucky. Two of them were ordinary looking, and the third was beautiful. Maverick wasn’t into curving hips and bouncing breasts, but she was undeniably lovely.

And she happened to be sitting right next to the hottest thing Maverick had laid eyes on in a good long while. A surge of heat raced through his gut, and he looked for a hair too long. The guy gave a subtle little tip of his longneck and then tilted his head fractionally to the right. Goose leaned in, his hand heavy on Maverick’s shoulder.

“I know you can help her, Mav.”

Maverick shook his head. Oh shit, not now. Goose grinned, loose and easy. His little blond pixie of a wife insinuated herself under his arm, giggling and agreeing.

“Oooh, yeah Maverick. She’s lost that loving feeling.”

Maverick hung his head in defeat. When Goose and his missus both where on the cupid trail all he could do was ask the girl out, and hope she said no. If she said yes he’d spend the rest of his evening wondering if he’d imagined the come hither look the tall, lean pilot at the end of the bar had given him.

Goose handed him a microphone.

Maverick stood, launching into as off-key a rendition of the song as he thought he could reasonably pull off. The tall cool blond at the end of the bar smirked. Rolling his beer along the edge of his jaw, he caught Maverick’s eye and winked.

“That’s Iceman. I hear he’s got the best stats of any pilot to come through Top Gun in the last decade.”

Goose’s words broke through a lull in the music. Maverick watched the blond, Iceman, flinch minutely. He rushed through the rest of the song, ending with a big flourish on one knee in front of the girl next to Iceman. Pasting his best cocky grin on his face, he entreated her to give him a shot. She gazed back at him coolly for a moment. Maverick tried to hold his gaze steady on the classic lines of her face, but failed. Watching as closely as she was made it impossible to miss the way his eyes flicked over to drink in the other pilot’s strong jaw and high, chiseled cheekbones.

It was an error of mammoth proportions to let the hunger burning brightly in his center show itself. He knew better, knew the gut clenching thrill of flying the best damn planes in the world could only be his if he hid who he was and pretended to be the man Uncle Sam and the rest of the damn world seemed to want. A wave of sour heat rushed up Maverick’s throat as he forced his gaze back to her face.

She looked directly back at him, doe brown eyes shining in the smoky bar light. A faint smile tipped one side of her mouth up. Reaching up, she tucked her chin length hair behind one ear.

“Fancy finding family here of all places…”

Maverick’s heart clenched, stuttered and then settled into a hard fast rhythm. He blinked, unsure if he’d heard her correctly.

“I beg your pardon?”

She grinned then, a wry elder sister grin of camaraderie that Maverick felt clear to his toes. It warmed him.

“Didn’t Aunt Dorothy tell you that I’d be meeting you here? I swear, that old girl gets more forgetful every day.”

An impish sparkle danced through her eyes. After a moment Maverick grinned back at her, reaching forward to capture her hand. He raised it to his mouth, kissing the back with old-fashioned gallantry. A low, husky chuckle rolled from the woman’s throat. A flash of white passed on Maverick’s right side. She tipped her head to one side, nodded to someone over his shoulder, and then leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially in his ear.

“I believe you have someone waiting for you out in back of the bar. Shall we go?”

She stood. Maverick’s mouth dropped open. He had a good idea about who was waiting for him out behind the bar, and the idea of the tall blond pilot pressing that soft pink mouth and long lean body against him was momentarily more than he could bear. He squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a deep breath, held it for a three count, and then exhaled and opened his eyes as he rose to his feet.

“I’d be delighted to follow you anywhere you want to lead, pretty lady.”

She laughed, and with a quick glance around, leaned into him. Maverick played along, slipping his arm around her waist until they were outside and the doors closed behind him. Dropping his arm, he moved a half step away.

“Thanks. My friend, Goose, he means well…”

A sharp bark of laughter answered him as she drew a cigarette from her purse. She fumbled in the handbag, clearly looking for a lighter. Maverick started to turn back toward the door.

“I can get you a match from—”

A flame flickered to life in the deep shadows along the wall. Iceman leaned insouciantly against the dusty concrete, his face thrown into stark relief in the orange and red glow of the little tongue of fire.

“I’ll take that fire, pilot.”

The woman’s husky tones faded into the background for Maverick as Iceman stepped away from the wall. The taller man leaned forward, bending slightly from the waist as he cupped a hand around the woman’s cigarette.

His icy blue eyes never left Maverick’s face.

Maverick swallowed. His throat was suddenly dry, as dry as if he’d never know water in his life. Iceman’s lids lowered lazily until his gaze was hooded. Maverick’s cock twitched. His balls drew up close to his body. Iceman released the lever on the lighter, and his face fell into shadow.

“Night boys. I’ll be leaving the back way. There’s a path down here—”

Iceman cut her off.

“Leads down by the river. I know. Thank you, ma’am.”

He nodded sharply, both perfectly polite and utterly dismissive. She chuckled again, swaying off down the path. Maverick found himself watching what he could see of her retreat. Not much was visible. Within seconds she was a shadow among other shadows, and then even the sound of her footfalls faded away.

The silence grew heavy and pressed on his skin.

“I heard you’re the best.”

A slash of white appeared where Maverick knew Iceman’s face to be.

“You heard right.”

And then there were no more words, just Iceman’s broad, long fingered hands wrapping around Maverick’s upper arms, spinning him around and pushing him hard against the back wall of the bar. The taller man pressed his advantage, his hips grinding against Maverick’s ass and his chest held flush against Maverick’s back. His silk over gravel baritone rasped into the smaller man’s ear. Iceman’s lips just brushed the shell of his ear.

“I’m gonna take you right here Maverick, where any of those punks from the bar could happen on us. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you cry and beg for me to never, never stop.”

He licked his tongue into Maverick’s ear, then pulled back just enough to get a good grip on the lobe with his teeth.

“Aaaahhh. E-easy, man.”

Iceman released Maverick’s ear. His hot mouth slid down along the crease at the back of Maverick’s jaw. He eased back again, just his mouth, and then struck like a rattler on a field mouse. He bit the side of Maverick’s neck hard before sealing his lips around the point and sucking.

The spot pulled on nerves Maverick had been unaware of before. He groaned, low and fierce. Iceman clapped a hand over his mouth, the other hand mapping Maverick’s side and down along his belly until it reached his waist. Iceman’s clever fingers made quick work of Maverick’s buckle and the fasteners of his trousers, sliding inside to investigate his groin but managing to avoid touching Maverick’s cock.

“I thought you were some hotshot pilot. Thought you knew how to handle a stick.”

Iceman made a sound, not quite a laugh, huffing, amused and disapproving all at once. He didn’t speak. He shucked Maverick’s pants down to mid-thigh. Maverick reared back, twisting his head to the side to free his mouth.

“What? You’re not serious? We can’t do this here.”

Iceman just pressed him harder into the wall. Maverick felt a squirt of slick at the top of his ass, and then those long fingers were caressing it down his crack and pushing, pushing it into his hole. The silent pilot shoved two fingers into Maverick’s ass. The intense burn had Maverick biting his lip to keep from crying out. Iceman plunged his fingers in hard and quick, scissoring them before adding a third.

His hand pulled away, and then Maverick felt the blunt tip of his cock press inexorably inwards, and they were rocking and grooving and Iceman shoved and shoved and shoved his huge cock into Maverick until the smaller man thought he might split in two.

He bottomed out and then reared back, grabbing Maverick’s hips to pull them back at a better angle. He didn’t wait and he didn’t ask he just fucked Maverick hard and fast and dirty until Maverick knew his dick would be sore from where it smacked against the concrete with Iceman’s every thrust in. Iceman widened his stance and then he really got down to business, shoving his cock in at a furious rate.

Maverick keened.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Maverick bit his tongue.

Iceman slammed home twice, four times, six, and then pushed Maverick nearly flat against the wall, his big body shaking as his seed shot deep into Maverick’s ass. He reached around, squeezing Maverick’s aching prick once and Maverick went off like a fourth of July bottle rocket. Iceman eased out, smacked Maverick once on the ass hard enough to leave a heated handprint behind, zipped his fly and leaned down to nip the back of Maverick’s neck.

“See you at home, babe.”

Maverick leaned against the wall until his legs stopped shaking and then pulled his pants gingerly over his sore ass. Iceman so owed him a massage and a long soak in their big tub.

by Cherie Noel

A Lick and A Promise—In Defense of Fanfic

2012-01-22T06:00:00.000-08:00

It’s no big secret that several authors in the m/m genre got their start writing fanfiction. I should know, I’m one of them. I’ve heard quite a bit of kerfluffle about this fact, including some laments that fanfic breeds poor writing.

Maybe. Maybe not. I can tell you what it did for me. Fanfiction gave me the confidence to try. There’s a bit of a built in safety net. You already have the characters and the world...you just get to play in the sandbox for a while, and you have an established audience just waiting to play beside you.

The first chapter of the first story I posted felt a lot like the first manuscript I submitted to a publisher. My stomach fluttered, I thought I was going to toss my cookies, and I was so damn excited I could hardly see straight. The difference? Within moments of posting that chapter, I started getting hits. By the next day, I had actual comments! Holy moly! Someone had actually read what I’d written...and they wanted more! What?!?

So began what would become my writing career. Fast forward a couple years. I’d written a number of well-received fanfiction pieces and developed a bit of a following in my little corner of the world. My best friend asked what I was going to write next...and I told her this great idea I had where fanfic character “A” was really such and such and “B” was this other thing and I’d put them in this other world and...and...

We had a Gibbs/DiNozzo headslap moment, wherein she informed me that I wasn’t planning a fanfic story, I had an original on my hands. I felt that flutter of fear that I’d felt before, but I knew she was right.

I also knew it would be a lot more work. The joy of fanfiction is that you can write with a lick and promise. Since some of the work is done for you, you have less work to do. There are constraints built into the world you’re using as the basis for your writing.

That’s not to say that writing fanfiction isn’t hard work. Just like with any writing, it’s tough to do it right. And all those constraints that made it easier to try in the beginning? They make it more of a challenge the more fanfic you write.

As a writer, though, you have to work within boundaries for any story. It’s part of the process. Fanfiction gives you a bit of a short-cut by providing some limits, but working with them was a great learning tool for me.

Another great benefit of starting in fanfiction is the community. Let me be honest here and say that when I wrote those first words? I had no flippin’ clue what I was doing. It’d be great to say I was the next Harper Lee, sending To Kill A Mockingbird out into the universe to hit the bestseller list and winning a Pulitzer Prize on my first time up to bat.

Ha.

No, those first words of mine weren’t great. There’s this myth of fanfiction that the comments are all high praise with pleads for “MORE” and lots of “RAWRS” with very little criticism. I’ll let you in on a little secret. That is mostly what you’ll see in the public comments, even on the worst pieces. What you may not know? The comments that tell you what didn’t work are normally sent privately.

In fact, I found my beta reader that way. She sent me a private message after I posted a chapter of my story and very politely let me know that I needed help. Several years later, she still reads what I write before anyone else. (Love you Aaeysha!)

The catch is that as a writer, if you really want to be better, you take those privately sent lumps of coal and maybe, just maybe, the next chapter you post will be a little better. Most of us aren’t lucky enough to have people in our lives who are that great combination of avid reader and great editor. By finding those folks in an online community who are willing to help, you can build a support team that keeps you motivated and growing as a writer.

Fanfic writing became my foreplay. I did a whole lot of licking and promising, got myself warmed up for the main event. I snagged a few fanfiction awards and took enough lumps of criticism to make me want to be better. When my first novel is published by Dreamspinner Press in April of 2012, I’ll have my humble fanfiction beginning to thank for the confidence it took to go all the way.

by Poppy Dennison

Raised in the south, Poppy Dennison developed an obsession with things that go bump in the night after a barn door flew off its hinges and nearly squashed her in her formative years. Convinced it was a ghost trying to get her attention, she started looking for other strange and mysterious happenings around her. Her love of paranormal continues to flourish nearly thirty years later, and she now writes steamy love stories about the things that used to keep her up all night, and if her ghost is lucky, maybe one day she’ll give him his own happily ever after.

Blog: http://paranormalpoppy.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/poppydennison

Twitter: http://twitter.com/ParanormalPoppy

Please Sir, Can I Have Some More Slash?

2012-01-21T06:00:00.000-08:00

I found out about slash fanfic from the most unlikely of places: my youngest, biological sister. She ran into my bedroom one day, almost hysterical about the “Wincest” that she’d found on http://www.fanfiction.net. When I asked her what “fan-fic” was, she stared at me as if I’d been living under a rock. It wasn’t really a rock though…it was just the Army. I went to this website and started reading stories written by fans about the main characters, Sam and Dean, who are brothers on Supernatural and their forbidden love for each other.

What? There are people writing stuff about two brothers from a TV show getting it on? WTF?

Then, one day I went to the site (because c’mon let’s admit it, I was hooked) and I discovered many other shows. Then my gaze took in the most beautiful sight. There on the screen before me was Criminal Minds. I quickly clicked on it and my life was changed forever. I discovered stories written by KLCM that were all about Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan and I read them voraciously. Then I discovered stories written by ILoveTVALot that weren’t just about Criminal Minds but were also about the Mentalist and CSI. Then one day I stumbled on a story by AhmoseInarus and my entire fanfic world was changed. AhmoseInarus writes slash. Hot, steamy, stick, curl-your-toes, need-a-cigarette-and-a-wet-washcloth slash stories. And even though I protested the thought of Morgan being involved with Reid, seeing Reid involved with Hotch had me so hot that sometimes I had to take a shower afterwards…

So, I decided to try my hand at a slash fanfic story. I wrote A Child of Their Own, a slash story about Morgan and Hotch, and I was surprised by the number of people who fell in love with the story. My eyes were opened to a world of writing M/M romance. So while “Unthinkable” is the first book I ever wrote and published, writing about Hotch and Morgan getting it on, being married and having kids was the first time I ever wrote man-on-man romance for the general public.

Morgan scoffed and turned to leave the room, walking quicker towards the nursery when he realized that his daughter's cries had stopped. Rushing into the room, he came to an abrupt halt at what he saw. Jack was sitting in a chair close to the baby's crib, his hand inside of the baby's crib holding his sister's hand as he sang softly to her. The newborn's eyes stared in amazement at her older brother before her eyes closed slowly and she went back to sleep.

"Jack, you are a genius. You're like the baby whisperer," Morgan breathed in wonder.

"Thanks Papa," Jack grinned before standing up slowly and walking out of the nursery, "I'm going back to bed," the young boy stated as he walked into his room and closed the door. Morgan shook his head in amazement and after checking on Erin one last time, he returned to his bedroom that he shared with his lover.

"You sure accomplished that quickly," Hotch murmured as he pulled off his boxers and slid back into bed beside the older man.

"Actually I didn't accomplish anything. Jack did. He got her to stop crying and to go back to sleep. That kid is amazing," Morgan said with a smile as he snuggled up to his lover. Putting his arm around the older man's waist, his elbow encountered his partner's very aroused member.

"Does the thought of me not being needed turn you on or something Aaron?" the younger man smirked.

"Not really. But the thought of you definitely turns me on," Hotch murmured before kissing the top of his lover's head.

"Mmm, really?" Morgan smiled as he lifted his head for his partner's kiss. They kissed gently at first, their lips caressing each other. Morgan soon lifted up and moved to straddle his partner, taking the kiss deeper, running his tongue over the seam of Hotch's lips, groaning when the man opened his mouth to him allowing his tongue entrance.

Their tongues dueled before Morgan gently nibbled on his partner's bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before slowly kissing his way down the man's body. He sucked one brown-pebbled nipple into his mouth, smiling when he heard the man hiss above him.

"God baby, that feels so good," Hotch groaned.

Morgan merely nodded and moved to the opposite nipple to give it the same treatment, leaning on one elbow while the fingers of his other hand plucked delicately at the hardened nipple. When he heard another groan a lower, harsher groan he chuckled before lifting his head.

"Oh now, don't tell me you're about to come already Aaron, you're not even inside of me," he grinned as his superior groaned again, and he leaned down to nuzzle into the crook of his neck before leaning down to kiss him deeply, "And I really want you to come inside of me, to fill me up with all of the hot come. I want to feel your hard cock pounding my ass, don't you want to pound my ass, Aaron?" he whispered against Hotch's lips.

"Oh god, Derek, grab the lube baby, get it now," Hotch moaned into his mouth, his hands squeezing the firm globes of his subordinate's ass.

Morgan reached over into the top drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the big bottle of lube that they'd bought just the week before…..it was almost empty. Yeah, they had sex….a lot.

"Time to buy some more lube honey," he said as he kissed the man before sitting up to straddle the man beneath him.

"Do you want to do it or should I?" he asked laughing huskily as Hotch grabbed the bottle of lube and poured some of the warming liquid over his fingers and, bringing his hand around his lover's waist, began to run his fingers up and down his lover's crease. Morgan groaned and pressed back against his lover's fingers.

"Aaron, please," Morgan pleaded.

With a smile, Hotch slowly circled his lover's puckered entrance before slowly sliding one finger within his snug, hot depths. Morgan's breath hitched and he moaned, his dick growing harder as Hotch slid another finger in beside the first one.

"Mmm, you feel so tight baby. So hot. I can wait to be inside of you. To fuck you senseless," Hotch murmured as he slid a third finger inside of his lover's tight chute, his fingers pumping in and out and twisting within his partner's hot ass.

"Aaron. Want. You. So. Bad. Please," Morgan pleaded.

"Okay baby, I'm here, I'm here," Hotch reassured his lover as he slowly impaled his lover’s ass on his hard and leaking cock.

Both men moaned at the sensation. Neither of them moved, both of them just savoring the feeling of being joined together. "You feel so good inside of me baby," Morgan moaned.

"And you feel so good wrapped around my cock," Hotch stated. Morgan smiled at that. His lover didn't use crude language often, but he always used it when they were having sex.

Lifting slightly, he slowly lowered himself back down on his lover's hard length. He moved up and down slowly, building the fire between the two of them, fanning the flames between them. Hotch groaned, planting his heels firmly down on the bed and lifting his hips to slam his dick deeper into his lover's ass, watching through his lowered eyelashes as his fiancé threw his head back and groaned, lifting his hands to stroke his cock with one hand, his other hand going to pinch his nipples.

Hotch watched his lover pleasing himself as he pounded deep within him. "God, Aaron, please, I n-need to feel you come. I need to feel you come so I can come," Morgan groaned, gasping when Hotch quickly flipped him over onto his back, without withdrawing and lifting his legs over his shoulder began to drive his hips into him faster and faster, his pace speeding up. He moaned loudly when he felt the muscles in Morgan's ass squeezing his dick as his orgasm approached quickly.

"Milk my cock baby, that's it. Make me come," Hotch whispered hotly against Morgan's lips. Morgan groaned, feeling his balls draw up tight as his felt his orgasm begin to pour over him.

"Oh God, baby, I'm gonna come. I l-love you so much Aaron," Morgan groaned as his orgasm rushed over him, his hot white come shooting out of the top of his hard dick, spilling over his hand, his stomach, some of it even landing on his chin.

Feeling his lover's muscles spasm around his cock and hearing his professions of love was all it took to send Hotch over the edge. Throwing his head back, he moaned out his partner's name as he shot his own load deep within his ass. Falling forward when his arms couldn't hold him up any longer, he turned onto his back and pulled Morgan close onto his chest. "I love you so much," he panted as he kissed his lover's forehead.

"I know," Morgan laughed. Hotch pulled back slightly.

"I don't think you do," he said softly, "But I have a lifetime to prove it to you," he assured his future husband as he trailed his fingers down the younger man's face. The two kissed gently before falling back asleep, knowing that at any moment their daughter could be waking them up again.

By Vicktor Alexander

My Daughter the Slasher

2012-01-20T07:30:00.000-08:00

As you all know, several authors of gay romance started out writing fan fiction or slash for one fandom or the other. Personally, I didn’t even know what fanfic was until three years ago. Not until after I’d introduced my oldest daughter (referred to hereinafter as Dear Slasher Daughter or DSD) to the German band Tokio Hotel. I’ve always preferred books over movies and TV shows. It never occurred to me to search the world wide web for things on the few ones I liked enough to qualify me as a fan, so I never got to read any Roswell, Forever Knight, Galactica (the original one) or The Wise Guy yummy fics.

As it turns out not knowing the right term didn’t stop me from mentally writing some fic. I’ve been re-writing the BDB books in my head forever. You know all those Butch/V scenes where they don’t end up together? No way. I was so not having it, so I changed them all! But that’s it. Nothing really significant… I just like to imagine Butch and V getting it on *g*

Now DSD, who just turned 19, is a completely different matter. The girl lives for this thing. You know what’s the first thing she says to me every morning? “So last night I was reading/writing this fic…” I kid you not.

This is the reason why I decided to talk to her a bit about her passion. They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, yes? I’m an author, and some people tend to believe she takes after me. Nope. It’s all the way around. She was writing boy love years before I even considered the possibility of doing this :-)

TVD: Can you tell us how did you discover slash?

DSD: Er.. I think it was the Tokio Hotel fandom…pretty sure that's when I started reading it. Tumblr, I believe…

TVD: Give me a concrete answer. I’m interviewing you.

DSD: LOL

TVD: I’m serious, Dear Slash Daughter…
DSD: Okay, serious J… Alright, I believe I discovered it after you sent me the Tokio Hotel videos. I started looking for pictures of Bill and Tom Kaulitz on Google, and some of the first pictures that came up at the time were manips of the twins kissing, hugging, etc. You know, being more than brotherly.

TVD: FYI the title of the post is “My Daughter the Slasher”.

DSD: wejhfsdkh!! LMAO

TVD: What is your favorite trope in the Tokio Hotel fandom?

DSD: Well I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort, as long as there’s a happy ending. Honestly, I’ll read pretty much anything as long as there’s a happy ending, or at least an ending that hints at a happy ending.

TVD: What was your reaction the first time you read a twincest story?

DSD: LOL Wow… Okay, I'm pretty sure it was something along the lines of 'I have no clue why I'm reading this, I shouldn't like it, but I want more now?’

TVD: Tell me about Harry Potter slash.

DSD: Can you be more specific?

TVD: What’s the appeal?

DSD: Well, because I ship Harry/Draco, I think it's the fact that they're enemies and I usually struggle to bring them together. So much fun!

TVD: Talk to me about your favorite fandom.

DSD: Definitely the Glee fandom! There are so many characters, and since I love to multi-ship, it's a lot of fun, because there are so many things to read and/or write.

TVD: Which fandom is more difficult to write for?

DSD: Glee fic is much more difficult to write in my opinion, mostly because the fandom is SO active, and it's very hard to write something that hasn't been done, or take something that has been done and give it your own twist.

TVD: What made you want to write fanfiction?

DSD: A lot of the times, especially when it comes to TV shows and movies, there are certain things that I don't like, or things that I would like to see explored in greater detail. It's really what makes me want to write for these fandoms.

TVD: Why did you choose slash?

DSD: Hmm, there is so much more potential for angst when it's slash in fandom. I love angst, so that could be why. I don't mind to read the straight couples, but definitely tend to read more slash than straight.

TVD: I know you want to write a book. Are you finding it difficult to transition from slash to original fic?

DSD: Extremely. It's very difficult to go from writing about characters that have already been created and whom you see interact on TV every week to creating your own.

TVD: And when you finally get around to write original fic, it is going to be het or M/M?

DSD: M/M. I tried writing het once upon a time, and I much prefer slash to het.

TVD: So gay fiction then.

DSD: Yes.

TVD: You make your momma proud J

DSD: LOLOLOLOL

TVD: Bed now!

DSD: LMAO

TVD: Love you!

DSD: Love you too!

By Taylor V. Donovan

Art credit

http://xyourloveismydrugx.deviantart.com/favourites/?offset=432#/d2i3ppk

http://xyourloveismydrugx.deviantart.com/favourites/?offset=240#/dgmmby

http://zephyrianboom.tumblr.com/post/12933684014/sketcha

Recommendations from the DSD

http://fiction.tokiohotelfiction.com/viewstory.php?sid=2171

http://harrydraco.livejournal.com/

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2493456/1/Bond

http://hd-career-fair.livejournal.com/8932.html

http://kurt-blaine.livejournal.com/

http://beyond-dapper.livejournal.com/

http://scarvesandcoffee.net/viewstory.php?sid=840&warning=21 and
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6988158/1/The_Sidhe

Beeeeeeeeep! Chicks & Dicks Alert

2012-01-18T07:00:00.000-08:00

This is not a test.

This is an alert of the Chicks and Dicks Emergency Alert System.

Please standby for information on the nature of the alert.

Today on Jessewave, Taylor V. Donovan is being profiled. She will also be answering the questions of anyone who wanders by and asks her some in comments. If you have a burning question (or just a random one), stop by and ask.

This has been an alert of the Chicks and Dicks Emergency Alert System (CaDEAS)

The Ethics of Reworking Fanfiction: An editor’s opinion

2012-01-17T04:00:00.000-08:00

Photo credit: Louisa Stokes

One of the many quirky and interesting things aboutDreamspinner Press’s staff is that many of us first discovered m/m romancethrough the world of slash fanfiction – “Harry Potter,” “Buffy the VampireSlayer,” “Lord of the Rings,” “Supernatural,” and many many others. In general, if a work submitted forpublication was originally fanfiction, we’ll notice unless the author has donean outstanding job of removing every single little detail. Now, don’t let that make you fret; wedon’t discriminate. A good storyis a good story, and what a publisher cares about is whether the story canstand on its own, out of the fanfiction-universe context, and also haveoriginal enough characters and setting that no one gets in legal trouble.

I’ve seen a lot of discussion about the “ethics” offanfiction, and while I can only speak for myself on this matter, I think thatit boils down to ownership of creative materials. A writer can’t steal/borrow obviously unique characters orworlds, but they can make their own; after all, there’s nothing outstandinglyunique about tropes like an orphaned boy who stumbles into an exciting newworld, a compassionate vampire, or a fantasy-world elf. The key is to change enough of thedetails so that a non-obsessive fan won’t recognize it. (An obsessive fan will recognizeanything – even if sometimes they get it wrong. I once read a submission and wouldhave sworn that it was Arthur/Eames from “Inception,” except that it was anovel-length story that was submitted less than a month after the movie wasreleased, making it highly unlikely that someone would have seen the movie,thought about the pairing, and written a novel over 60k words so quickly.)

So yes, I think that it’s fine to cannibalize/rework yourfanfiction and send it into a publisher. Many of our authors work like that, and why not? As long as you’re not infringing onanyone else’s creative material, use whatever tools you have to inspireyou. Tolkien and Shakespeare bothborrowed from real historical events and folk tales; I think I once read aninterview where Anne Rice said her character Lestat was modeled on the actorRutger Hauer. If they can do it,why can’t you?

All right, so now that you’re feeling good about turningyour fanfiction into original fiction, let me tell you what I think it takes –making the characters and their world you own. All of it. Ifyou’re writing a story about two guys who are hunting demons, and they have an“almost-brotherly” relationship, well, I’m going to catch that it’s Sam andDean from “Supernatural.” If yourcontemporary characters are both over six feet tall, from Texas, shockinglygood-looking, and have parents/siblings/best friends who all share the samename and occupations as the real life family and friends of Jared Padalecki andJensen Ackles, I’m going to notice – I read “People” magazine in the hair salontoo. You need to not only changethe physical descriptions and names of the main characters, but the names andoccupations of their friends, family, settings, etc. I know this seems onerous, but it’s these sorts of detailsthat I, as an editor, pick up on and that pulls me out of a story I approachedas an original work.

Photo Credit: graur razvan ionut

So what do you need to do? Let me spell it out. First, come up with a new name for all of your characters. If one of them is named Jack or Will,you can potentially leave it, but don’t leave more than one because someonewill probably know that Jack and Will are from “Pirates of the Caribbean.” Use the search and replace tool, but pleasego back and read through it afterward – I once saw a story where thecharacter’s name had apparently been changed from “Jack” to “Dan” whichresulted in the character “Daning off” a few times. Hilarious, but kind of a give-away. Also, beware of nicknames and namesbroken-off in the heat of the moment. Second, look at the physical descriptions – what can you change that’snot important to the story you aretelling? Hair color? Height? Build? Age? Accent? Any obvious physical tells, such as alightning-bolt scar on the forehead? Third, if you’re revising several works with the same characters, makesure your revisions are all different too – not always a young man with longcurls paired with an older man with blond hair and an accent.

Finally, one of the most difficult aspects to alter is theworld/setting. If yourfantasy-world shares some fairly unique attributes as one in a movie or book orTV show, it’s going to be difficult to strip off the fandom elements andreplace them with something wholly your own. Generally speaking, while contemporary settings translate justfine, anything too specifically sci-fi or fantasy takes more work to revise. It’s difficult to get out all theelements that signify a “Star Trek” story, for example. (Not impossible, though.) A good question to ask while working onyour revisions is “What other examples of this have I seen, other than mysource?” If it’s an element thathas only been used once (or only once in an obvious way), you should probablychange it. If it’s a more generaltrope, go for it.

From a publishing perspective, what I think publishers don’twant to see is something that’s a screaming red flag of copyrightinfringement. Publishers arefairly intelligent, well-read, pop culture savvy people, and they’re a diverseenough group that there’s a high probability someone will recognize your fandom(heck, they might even have read your story in its fanfictional incarnation). That’s okay, but it means that yourstory needs to be revised a little more before they’re going to feelcomfortable about publishing it; after all, if the submissions reviewer oreditors recognize it, your readers/reviewers might too, and they’re going to bea lot more harsh about your brilliant Victorian-era detective Edmund Shamrockand his good friend Joseph Wilson.

Just in case I’ve given you a complex and made you feelinsecure, let me take this opportunity to reveal that several of DreamspinnerPress’s stories started out their lives as fanfiction. Some even by our best-selling authors. I’d never “out” anyone by name, butrest assured that the author used someone else’s characters/world/personalitiesas the foundation for telling their own story. That’s okay - the more alive a character or world is in themind of the writer, the more alive and real it becomes for the reader. It’s not a shortcut, and it’s not asin. It’s more common that youthink, so go for it – polish up your old fanfiction stories, tweak and reviseand make the details your own, and send them in!

Julianne Bentley is a member of the submissions team forDreamspinner Press. She’s alsoan obsessive slash fangirl with omnivorous tastes. (Opinions expressed herein are not necessarily representativeof Dreamspinner Press.)

The White Collar Bromance: Slash Goggles On and Off

2012-01-15T03:52:00.000-08:00

Guest Post by theLadies of White Collar Fixation

(http://whitecollarfixation.com )

"I own youfor the next four years. You ok with that?"

Peter Burke to NealCaffrey in the White Collar Pilot

It’s a common joke in many fandoms: are your slash gogglesat the ready? Will you squint to see a romance—even between two heterosexualmale characters?

Some of us would argue that you scarcely need specialgoggles while watching White Collar,claiming it begs for slashy fan fiction. Conman Neal Caffrey (Matt Bomer)serves as a criminal consultant for the FBI in lieu of another prisonsentence—under the direct supervision of the agent who caught him, Peter Burke(Tim DeKay). Neal wears a trackinganklet and helps Peter solves cases. The non-sexual bromance that developsbetween the two men is the heart of the show.

So slashy is this premise, in fact, that one LiveJournal fanfiction community dedicated to the Peter/Neal pairing began months before theseries premiered! (Originally titled Caffrey-Stokes,it became Caffrey-Burke when thepowers-that-be changed Peter’s last name.)

Creator Jeff Eastin doesn’t seem offended by the slashfiction or the slash fans. He has jokingly tweeted about making a slashepisode. When prodded to go ahead and do it, he responded (with a wink, we’resure) that every episode is slash.

The actors don’t seem troubled either. Tim DeKay has referredto the old-married-couple aspect of Peter and Neal’s relationship (in additionto the father-son aspect and friendship aspect). And, at one Paley Center eventin New York City, Matt Bomer hurled himself into Tim DeKay’s arms when anaudience member spoke about the love between the two characters—something the actors have mentioned themselves.

But slash has taken an intriguing turn on this show. Peteris happily married to Elizabeth (Tiffani Thiessen), and this well-drawn characterquickly captured the heart of fans. Hence a large portion of the fan fictionproduced is devoted to OT3: the one-true-threesome of Peter/Elizabeth/Neal.

Polyamorous relationships are nothing new infandoms—Kirk/Spock/McCoy, anyone? But few have become such an intricate part ofthe fabric of a show’s fan fiction.

Has there been an anti-slash and anti-OT3 backlash amongfans? Yes. Not all fans have their slash-goggles at the ready. It is just aseasy (and more canonical) to view Peter as a father figure or older-brotherfigure to Neal than as a lover. And while Peter has Elizabeth, Neal has his ownlove interests.

As in any fandom, a battle zone has sometimes developedbetween those with their goggles on and those with their goggles off. Some fansare tired of what they see as the irritating trope in fan fiction for everycharacter to wake up gay. These fans prefer Peter, Elizabeth and Neal to remainstrictly in their canonical relationships. (Although some of these same fansenjoy plotlines involving the romance between Diana and Christie, the show’scanonically lesbian couple.)

But can’t we all just get along? That’s part of our premiseat White Collar Fixation, a popular fan blog. We love Peter and Neal—whetherPeter is Neal’s father figure, older brother figure, friend, partner or lover.Heck, we just love Peter and Neal. (And we’re pretty wild about Elizabeth too.)

So our policy is to remain open and respectful to all views.It works for us, albeit with a few bumps in the road. When we recommend a pieceof OT3 fan fiction or point out a particularly slashy moment on a givenepisode, we have learned to be prepared for both gasps of horror and well-reasonedcomments pointing out that not every affectionate gesture denotes sexualinterest. But the gasps have become fewer and fewer as we’ve insisted that allgoggles are welcome. And as for the well-reasoned comments—we accept them, evenwhile we wish we could give the commenters new lenses.

Writing “Brokeback Mountain” Slash: A Sexual Beast Surfaces

2012-01-14T04:30:00.000-08:00

Does writing fan fiction—or “slash,” its same-sex subgenre—typically change the life of its author? My guess is not.

Consider Kirk/Spock, Aragorn/any male not a dwarf or Hobbit, Harry Potter/some other wizard dude… these are all potentially exciting pairings from adventure stories with huge fan bases. The thousands of writers who populate these and other fandoms are enthused and dedicated, but based on personal experience, I’d be surprised to find many who are as emotionally engaged with their protagonists as are authors in the “Brokeback Mountain” fandom.

Not only did “Brokeback Mountain” compel me to write my first fiction, it unleashed an intense erotic persona that had been repressed by my Roman Catholic upbringing. I’m thankful I was of a certain maturity when this occurred so I could fully appreciate the impact. I mean, why waste it on an already-horny thirteen-year-old?

As understandable as it might be for a gay man like myself to internalize both Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist, the key was that I was an unhappy gay man ominously trapped in Ennis’s maxim: If you can’t fix it, you got a stand it. Like Ennis with his unhappy lot in life, I was “standing it” (a bad relationship) as opposed to “fixing it” (getting the hell out).

Six years on, I’m still working on fixing it (I’m a little slow), but in the meantime, writing BBM slash—everything from humor marked by word play to tragedy marked by tears—has offered a cathartic diversion. It also helps that my men swear a lot, a release in and of itself.

Most BBM slash writers and readers are female, everyone from women over seventy to girls who lie and say they’re eighteen. I don’t know if they have “internalized” the two men, but the rare, epic universality of this story that resonates with just about everyone of any sex or orientation has inspired thousands of excellent stories.

Interestingly, in this fandom devoted to what is essentially a classic romantic tragedy, most writers prefer HEA scenarios. I think women who take on the slash-writing mantle here object to Jack dying young (and violently). They feel cheated out of the “love that never dies,” as one song in the film insists.

I’m a hopeless romantic too, but I think those writers miss the main point, the beauty of the tragedy. That is not meant to belittle the quality of their work. Notably, though, many fans won’t read “dead Jack” stories, period. I’m a “canon” writer, which means I stick faithfully with Annie Proulx’s novella or Ang Lee’s film. Fortunately only a couple of my stories fall into the “dead Jack” category, with most concerning Ennis and Jack very much alive and kicking.

Slash based on major films usually pairs heterosexual men, but in “Brokeback Mountain,” the men actually are lovers. BBM slash writers therefore have a ready-made physical and psychological base from which to develop the relationship further. It helps when dealing with a wide range of readers that certain common assumptions—about character, for example—are shared.

The anonymity of slash authorship allows me to “publish” without a story being “perfect.” This matters insofar as I’d never written fiction before my first posting on Christmas Eve 2005. I was so affected by the movie that I felt compelled to write a story about Jack’s death. Writing it was cathartic, but sharing it was exhilarating. The ego-gratifying feedback really got the ball rolling.

Hiding behind an avatar (a sultry, shirtless Jake Gyllenhaal) encouraged me from the start to amp up the sex. When I wrote the “first night in the tent,” a consensual rape scene, I discovered a testosterone-driven talent for detailed descriptions of male sexual responses and explorations of the attendant male psychology. This rapid-fire narrative ended with a “raging load of cum” (you can always tell when a guy is writing), apparently a decent enough first effort at explicit sex that readers requested the “second night in the tent.”

This scene exemplifies romance—with the men kissing, hugging and crawling all over one another—and called for a slow, erotic approach. I loved getting inside Ennis’s head as he got a blow job from “the most beautiful man in the world”… and I loved getting inside Jack’s head as he gave it. One reader assured me that I’d written erotica and not smut, and that was encouraging.

As in real life, my BBM slash, while hot and graphic, considers the fact that what is not said is as important as what is said, if not more so. The sex is frequently accompanied by humor, verbal hijinks or pathos. I toy with assumptions. Some consider Jack to be experienced, but I write him as a m/m virgin. Ennis is widely viewed as the “man” in the relationship, and readers applauded when he finally bottomed for Jack.

Many authors in the BBM fandom write lovely, hot m/m sex. But once female readers realized there was a male on board, they also developed a taste for the visceral. The recent discussion on the C&D blog about the male orgasmic experience offers insight into women’s curiosity about male physiology.

One woman’s response to a typically wet story was especially gratifying: “Semen honestly isn't a big part of my erotic world, but if I read much more of your work, I suspect it WILL be!”

I’ve revealed myself to just one reader. A Jungian, she identifies with Ennis psychologically. My story “Deliverance” helped her find her inner Jack, Ennis’s complementary persona. We’ve become the best of friends, and now she’s my BBM beta reader. I’m intuitive and she’s analytical, so it’s a perfect pairing. Thanks to her, my novella-length “Deliverance” has a much stronger ending.

While I guard my anonymity, many writers and readers don’t. These “Brokies” stage barbecues, readings and pilgrimages. Such is the sense of community that this remarkable story has engendered.

I avoid BBM gatherings, though, even readings. I could read erotic tales of Jack and Ennis, but some of my stories make me cry. That’s how intricate the emotional web is that “Brokeback Mountain” has wrought. These men are me… and their hopes, desires, uncertainties and vulnerabilities are mine too. I can share that in writing, but not over a hotdog.

About the author

After doing a bunch of other stuff in life, Randy Robbins realized when he started publishing slash fiction in the “Brokeback Mountain” fandom (as Belgianboy) that he was meant to be a writer. Recent efforts also include fiction, memoir, humor and gay erotica not related to Annie Proulx's lovelorn cowboys.

The author is a native of the industrial Midwest, but he'd rather move to Montana, where he could enjoy mountains, blazing red sunsets... and the solitude to write. And when the mood struck him, the company of a handsome, strapping cowboy.

His “Brokeback Mountain” fan fiction (the complete oeuvre) can be found at http://belgianboy.livejournal.com.

Other m/m erotica can be found at http://randyrobbins.net.

Josh of the Damned Virtual Blog Tour—Andrea Speed

2012-01-12T05:00:00.000-08:00

Fanfiction gets disparaged a lot, and you can’t say thereisn’t a good reason for it, as quite a bit of it is bloody awful. But pleasenote I said quite a bit and not all. Because I honestly think fan fiction has aplace, even for the published writer.

For one thing, it’s really good for getting out of your ownhead. Fanfic can be kind of Zen. There’s no world to create - someone’s donethat for you. You don’t even have to create original characters if you don’t wantto. When you’re stuck with an original story, you can go write fanfic and comeback to your original story refreshed and hopefully ready to tackle yourproblem. It’s such a different beast. It’s like coming in as a journeyman andwriting a script for an established show, as opposed to creating your ownscript from the ground up.

For me, fan fiction was my first exposure to showing mywriting to a crowd. I suppose if the reception had been negative it would havebeen a big setback for me But I got positive feedback, and this led me toposting my writing online. Not just fanfic, but “regular” writing, and I mustadmit that an online audience is probably responsible for me having a writingcareer at all. An audience can be brutal or it can be helpful - or both - butthe feedback is almost immediate, and there’s something addictive about havingthat kind of instant feedback. Although, to be fair, it’s not for everyone, andthe built in anonymity of the internet can encourage people to be asshats on anepic scale.

While fanfic was fun to write, and easy, it got to the pointwhere I started to like writing for my original characters more than theothers, and it was then that I gave it up. But I made great friends during theprocess, and my associations with it have all been positive. (And I createdsome original characters I just love and would like to transition to regularfiction. Haven’t yet, but I still have time.) It’s easy to paint fanfic assomething negative, but if you look at it as a writing exercise, there’s muchyou can learn from it.

Here's the blurb from Pretty Monsters:

Josh knew the nightshift at the Quik-Mart would be full of freaks and geeks—and that was beforethe hell portal opened in the parking lot. Still, he likes to think he can rollwith things. Sure, the zombies make a mess sometimes, but at least they neverreach for anything more threatening than frozen burritos.

Besides, it’s not alllizard-monsters and the walking dead. There’s also the mysterious hottie withthe sly red lips and a taste for sweets.

Josh has had the hotsfor Hot Guy since the moment he laid eyes on him, and it seems Hot Guy might besweet on Josh too. Now if only Josh could figure out whether that’s a goodthing, a bad thing, or something in between. After all, with a hell vortex justa stone’s throw away, Josh has learned to take nothing at face value—even ifit’s a very, very pretty face.

Thistitle is #1 of the Josh of the Damned series.

To read an excerpt and purchase Pretty Monsters, please clickhere.

Here's the blurb from Peek-A-Boo:

As night-shift clerkat the go-to Quik-Mart for monsters with the munchies, Josh Caplan believeshe’s seen it all. Battling lizard men, werewolves chasing cars in the parkinglot . . . nothing fazes Josh anymore.

Or so he thinks, atleast, until a yeti with poor communication skills drops a dead skunk on thecheckout counter. Josh can’t figure what a living, breathing shag carpet wantswith him, or why it won’t leave him alone no matter how hard he ignores it. Buthey, at least it seems harmless . . . if perhaps a little slow on the draw.

But Sasquatch isplenty fast when two of Josh’s human customers try to out-monster the monsters.Times are strange when creatures from the hell portal save the day, but in theprotective hands of a lovesick yeti and a sexy vampire boyfriend, Josh realizesthat maybe his new normal isn’t so bad after all.

To read an excerpt and purchase Peek-A-Boo, please clickhere.

If you're following Andrea's tour and looking for the question for the Grand Prize (drawn at the end of the tour) here you go:

What two things does the yeti try to give Josh? Simple, but you'll have to read the story.

Grand Prize- Infected series ebook collection.

Email address:aspeed2@gmail.com

Slash them! Slash them all! by Thorny

2012-01-10T05:00:00.000-08:00

I'm a fan of slash because it lets me see some of myfavorite characters actually "live" the fantasies I dreamt up when Iread their original stories anyway. I'm gay and yeah, sometimes I wonder whatit'd be like if Harry Potter or Batman or Gibbs batted for my team. It's notthat I can't relate to or appreciate a straight guy's story, but my fantasiesare as queer as me so it just happens.

Take a moment to imagine one of those DiNozzo head-slapsturning into Gibbs getting a fistful of Tony's hair and pulling him in for arough kiss. Yeah, it's good stuff. I know it'll never actually happen, butsomebody online did dream it up and write it down for me to enjoy. Medaera18write a 3-part story (technically unfinished) about Gibbs and Tony beingovercome by a virus that pairs you up with the person you're nearest in themoment you're infected. Poor Palmer... Anyway! So the straight agents are nowhopelessly tied to each other...and then they discover Tony's pregnant.

Yeah, sometimes the slash goes a little wonky, but that's agood thing too. Take my absolute favorite Harry Potter slash by Maeglin Yedithat pairs him up with his godfather Sirius Black AND his professor Remus Lupinwho've been lovers themselves for years. Yep, a slightly incestuous threesomeand Harry's only 16. But that's not the weird bit. Remus is a werewolf who getshit with a hex that makes him shift but lets him stay sane and THAT is what heis when he and Harry get all bow-chica-wow-wow. Uh-huh. My favorite HarryPotter slash includes bestiality. With a minor. In a threesome.

So much for innocent sunshine, huh? Muah-ha-ha!

Ahem.

We've got a beloved children's story and a primetime drama,so lets add a comic book icon while we're at it. Batman. Oh how I adore Batman!I'll be his Robin any day. But wait! What's that? Is it a bird? Is it a plane?OMG it's Superman snogging Batman! Oh hecks yeah! It took some work, but Iactually found Evangel writing about a delightfully snarky Batman discoveringthere's a lot of good things to get from partnering with the man of steel...inmore ways than those required for saving cities, thanks.

Speaking of being invincible, and in case you thought abouttrying this, it takes balls to write slash.

The GOOD authors have actually studied their characters'original counterparts in an effort to get them right in every way. They don'twant to just give characters the same names and play around with them. Theyreally have to make it read like the real character who's just going a littlegay for a while. The way a character talks, what they worry about, what theywant, references to the original stories, all have to be accurate because, ifthey're not? Rabid fans attack. They point out everything an author got wrongand then beat them with it. Repeatedly. I've read a few slash stories that werepretty good only to see comments that tore it apart, started flame wars, andhad authors vowing never to write again.

So wannabe slashers? Do your homework or keep it toyourself. Seriously, there are some scary fans out there who will not be happywhen their boys aren't perfect.

Now I just have to ask: Who do you want to see slashed? Haveyou found the perfect story featuring them yet? Tell me in the comments becauseI'm always looking for more good ones.

=====

REFERENCES:

Harry Potter Slash by Maeglin Yedi

All works - http://archive.skyehawke.com/authors.php?no=68

Of Wolf and Man -http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=675

To See The Human Soul Take Wing (sequel) -http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=4619

Superman/Batman Slash by Evangel

Live Journal - http://evangelfic.livejournal.com/

First Time for Everything -http://evangelfic.livejournal.com/940.html

On Second Thought (sequel) -http://evangelfic.livejournal.com/4253.html

NCIS Slash by Medaera18

All works -http://www.ncisfiction.com/profile.php?user_id=00553

Partners, Partnership, Partnership Trials -http://www.ncisfiction.com/series.php?sid=02546

From Slash to Cash by Josephine Myles

2012-01-08T00:00:00.000-08:00

Making the move from writing slash fanfiction to published m/m romance

Yesterday my good friend Lou Harper, who I met when we were both writing Torchwood fanfiction, shared her account of how she was drawn into the world of slash. Today I’m giving my thoughts on the move from slash fanfic to publishing original m/m romance, sharing a few of the things I’ve learnt along the way.

The more you write, the better you get

Okay, that’s assuming you take an active interest in improving your writing. Fanfiction writing can serve as a substitute for that “awful first novel” most published writers have lurking in the back of a drawer somewhere. With luck, most writers moving on from fanfiction will have honed their craft to a publishable level. I see it as a form of apprenticeship for writers.

Whose leg is that, anyway?

Of course, there are certain things that are widely accepted in fanfic but which don’t tend to go down so well with m/m romance publishers. Present tense narratives, for instance—I had to wean myself off writing in the present tense as it isn’t liked by many readers in the genre. Publishers will be very hot on pronoun confusion too—always a challenge for anyone writing scenes of a physical nature involving two (or more) characters of the same gender.

Beware the publisher’s list of things they don’t want to see

There are dedicated readers out there for every type of fanfiction story. It’s a common convention to give a warning for any aspects that might squick readers, such as twincest, dubious consent, rape, watersports, bloodplay, etc. Many writers recognise these warnings can act as enticements for certain readers with a particular kink. It’s much harder to find publishers willing to take a risk on material like this, though. They are out there, but you’ll need to shop around carefully for a publisher who caters to this niche readership. Alternatively, you might just have to accept that your tale about the watersports enthusiast having a kinky relationship with his twin brother’s corpse is something the world is not yet ready for.

You still need a beta reader...

Beta readers are still essential – and to my mind, the more the merrier. They help you spot not only technical mistakes, but alert you to confusing sentences and suggest things they’d really like to see included. Not that you have to go along with their every wish, of course, but it’s good training in learning how to hook in readers by giving them what they want.

Some writers manage to bribe their fanfic betas to read their original work, perhaps with enticements of chocolate/money/porn. I managed to get my fanfic beta Lou Harper to accompany me over to my original fic—not sure quite how, as she really wasn’t keen at first. You might find you have to seek out new beta readers, though, as some fanfic readers won’t be remotely interested in your original work, no matter how much they love you as a person. Alternatively, up the bribery levels and hope for the best.

Can you file off your serial numbers?

Some fanfiction stories will never survive having the “serial numbers erased” to be turned into “original” m/m romances. My own, for instance, as I wrote stories very closely connected to events in the show and they just couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. The ones that translate best seem to be the ones where the writers have gone seriously Alternate Universe (AU) , or committed Real Person Slash (RPS) . Opinions differ as to the morality and legality of selling fanfiction as original work, especially if it contains significant connections to the show that inspired it. However, if all a writer has done is used the physical appearance of the actors in her own setting and story, I don’t see that this is much different to the way other writers might use celebrities as inspiration for their characters.

Just bear in mind, if you’ve written about a 900 year old alien adventurer who travels through time and space in a little blue box that’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, even the most fanfic-friendly m/m publishers will probably say “No way!”

Get your facts straight!

Fanfiction is not a good place to learn about the realities of gay sex. There’s a whole lot of fantasy and wishful thinking involved in many of the sex scenes, which can end up being perpetuated as “fact” in story after story. I swear, some fanfiction writers have never heard of the term “refractory period”! Also beware of the “healing cock” of fanfiction which heals all ills and traumas with an application of magic joy juice...

Some fanfic readers might call you up on errors, but most will be forgiving as they didn’t pay for the story. Not so, the paying audience for m/m. For God’s sake, do your research if you want to write realistic, publishable stories. And not just for the sexy bits either—although that is the most enjoyable research!

Flaming Wankfests of Doom

All fanfic writers will eventually come into contact with the flame wars and wankfests that seem to infect certain areas of fandom. Some people take joy in provoking anger in others, and you just can’t win an argument with them NO MATTER HOW MANY CAPITAL LETTERS YOU USE!!!!!!

It’s sad to say the Flaming Wankfests of Doom still occasionally happen in m/m blogland and forums. Experienced professional writers know to avoid getting involved at all costs, as it could damage your career. I’m trying to follow their example, as not all exposure is positive exposure...

Writing can be fun!

This is one of the most important lessons I’ve taken from fanfiction. I didn’t write for many years after taking creative writing modules at university, as I had convinced myself that it wasn’t worth me writing anything unless it was Booker Prize winning material – ah, the arrogance of youth!

It took writing fanfiction to unleash my smutty muse and teach me the real joy of telling sexy stories about men loving men. Okay, erotic m/m romances might not ever be in the running for literary prizes, but at least there are readers out there hungry for these stories. In my humble opinion, that’s far more important than getting a nod from the establishment.

Thank you fanfiction. You’ve taught me a huge amount.

Bio:

English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

For more about her published work, saucy free reads and regular blog posts, please visit josephinemyles.com

We Will Always Have Paris Slash

2012-01-07T00:00:00.000-08:00

- A Personal Story by Lou Harper -

It all started with Star Trek. It's a well-known fact that the term originates from the slash mark in "Kirk/Spock" – the designation of fan fiction pairing up those two protagonists of the 1970s TV series.

While those early stories were published in fanzines^[1], these days slash lives mostly on the Internet. What hasn't change is that the writers and readers of the genre are still predominantly women. The self-professed reasons for it are numerous: gay man trapped in a woman's body, more even power exchange between romantic pairings, two men are better than one.

My pet theory is that we women who love men who love men are the product of a pop cultural conditioning. When we watch films and TV shows it is natural to identify with the (male) protagonists – after all, the story is told from their point of view more often than not. The more we immerse ourselves in the story, the more we identify. Women learn from an early age to identify with men. Out of the eight main crewmembers of the original Star Trek, only two were women, and the men had all the fun. Identifying with the men on screen and sexually desiring them at the same time provides a strong motivation for slashing them together.

For me personally it started with Star Trek too. Not, with the original series, or even one of the spinoffs, but with J.J. Abrams 2009 cinematic reboot of the franchise. I liked that movie a lot – it takes Gene Roddenberry's vision of a bright, heroic world, and puts it in a shiny new package. It was exactly what I needed at that moment. The summer of 2009 was a difficult time for me, and I needed a little cheering up. I developed a minor temporary obsession with the film. Watching interviews of the cast on Youtube, especially of those of Chris Pine (Kirk) and Zachary Quinto^[2] (Spock) who so obviously had a bromance^[3] going on (intimate but nonsexual relationship between two men) reminded me of those rumors of slash I had heard of. So I decided to check them out.

However, it wasn't Star Trek fiction I went for. The summer of 2009 was also when I discovered Torchwood. For those many who never heard of it, Torchwood is a spin-off of Doctor Who. I didn't see it when it originally aired, but I caught the reruns. Watching some episodes on TV and others on iTunes, I got a concentrated dose of the show.

Torchwood is about a ragtag band of alien hunters based in Wales, and led by the "omnisexual" Captain Jack Harkness – an alien himself. The main appeal of Torchwood to me, the thing that elevated it above its uneven writing was the unabashed sexual tension that runs through the whole series. All the team members get some action at one point or another, both opposite and same-sex variety.

The "one true pairing"^[4] of Torchwood is Jack/Ianto, aka Janto. Some don't consider them a true slash pairing because they are actually paired on the show itself. To me that's splitting hairs. However, their same-sex relationship being canon^[5] possibly made it easier for me to be drawn into slash.

Janto was my introduction to slash. I didn't expect to like it. I had low expectations of fan fiction, period. I was prepared to be horrified. Instead I stumbled upon some pretty good stories early on, and some really good ones soon after. I was a goner. Soon enough I wasn't only reading, but also writing them.Slash and fan fiction in general, is subversion born out of love. Fans take the established world and characters of a movie, book, or TV show and spin them into countless number of different tales.There are unique characteristics to fan fiction, and slash within it:

1. Shared world. In regular fiction sometimes authors share a world, but it's a rare occurrence. In fanfic anyone can jump in at any time. It's truly fascinating to watch how writers all starting from the same point end up going in so many different directions. Some Torchwood fanfiction was better written than the show.

2. Obsessiveness. By definition, readers and writers are all fans. Consequently, emotions can run high over the "correct" interpretation of events and protagonists. In Torchwood, when Ianto was killed on the actual TV show, it split the fandom right down in the middle between those who accepted it, and those who couldn't.

3. Writers and readers have a peculiar, often love-hate relationship with the creators of the film/TV show/book their stories are based on. Writers tend to spend a lot of their time and creative energy on filling plot holes in the official work, writing missing scenes, or even re-writing the official story. After killing Ianto in season three of Torchwood, creator Russel T. Davis became reviled by a segment of his fandom, whom he in turn disparagingly called "nine hysterical women." The fans in question took the name up, and fanfics bringing Ianto back abounded.

I made friends in the Torchwood fandom, and most importantly met my beta partner Josephine Myles. Jo was the first one who made the jump from slash to M/M fiction. I wasn't going to follow. I didn't even want to read it. Stories that didn't have the characters I knew and loved held no interest to me. However, Jo kept sending me her shorts, and recommending writers. It was her First Impressions that made me think there might be something to this after all, and I should take a closer look at the genre.

Again, I didn't expect to like it, but I stumbled upon some real good stories almost immediately. Down the m/m rabbit hole I went. I became a rabid reader of the genre, but had no plans of contributing to it. Then I came across a story that left me dissatisfied and frustrated. And thus I set out to write the story I would like to read. That became Hanging Loose.

In my experience slash makes it easier to enter m/m. I probably wouldn't have gotten here without slash, mostly because I wasn't even aware of the existence of the m/m genre.

I used to be a lonely, awkward kid, living in my fantasies most of the time. Whenever a book or TV show caught my fancy, I kept reliving it in my head, getting into the skins of the different characters, taking them to new places, exploring things the original story didn't, continuing their tales. I could get lost in their world for weeks. I had no idea I was writing fanfiction in my head.

For a list of fanfiction terms check here.

Tomorrow here on Chicks and Dicks, my old Torchwood fandom friend Josephine Myles will give her account of the challenges and delights of moving from writing fanfic to publishing original m/m romance.

Lou Harper's Bio:

Under a prickly, cynical surface Lou Harper is an incorrigible romantic. Her love affair with the written word started at a tender age. Lou's favorite animal is the hedgehog. She likes nature, books, movies, photography, and good food. She has a temper and mood swings. Lou is a loner, a misfit, and a happy drunk.

http://louharper.blogspot.comhttp://louharper.com

___________________________
¹Fanzine: non-professional publication produced by fans. Before the internet age they were distributed through mailing lists and on conventions.

²Quinto outed himself in October 2011, saying that ""that living a gay life without publicly acknowledging it, is simply not enough to make any significant contribution to the immense work that lies ahead on the road to complete equality."

³Bromance: close and intimate but nonsexual relationship between two men.

⁴"One True Pairing," aka OTP is the couple fans or fan groups prefer over all other.

5Canon: events, statements that happen on the show, thus considered as facts. Some creators intentionally or unintentionally introduce contradictory canon elements, causing fanfic writers to tie themselves into knots to resolve them.

Slash Month Begins!

2012-01-05T00:00:00.000-08:00

This whole month at Chicks & Dicks, we're going to be posting about slash, or M/M fanfictions.

For many of us, our journey into reading and writing hot stories between two (or more) guys starts when we read and write fanfiction in various fandoms. Some of us jump straight into the world of M/M romance, but we’re curious about fanfiction, slash in particular.

I remember when the first Lord of the Rings movie was released, I started to notice how hot the male elves were. Since none of them were apparently featured in any love story in the movies or in the book, I started to search for something else to appease my thirst for hot male elf action, and that was how I discovered fanfiction. Not satisfied with just reading, I started to write my first fanfic—that was how I popped my writing cherry. :D

I started by writing het romance (het meaning heterosexual romance, traditional romance between a male and female). It wasn’t long before I saw the light and realized that Legolas and Aragorn were much hotter together than Aragorn and Arwen. ;)

Many people scoff at fanfic, seeing it as nothing more than bad fantasy written by hormonal girls, with misspellings and grammatical mistakes. Indeed, a lot of stories in Fanfiction.Net—where anyone can post any story without concern—might fit the criteria. But we also have gems, some fanfics that are as well written or even better than published stories.

Not every fanfic writer is a hormonal girl, or even female, though females still dominate the fanfiction world. Some of these fanfic writers are professional writers and editors who have published original work. Some fanfic authors have also tried their hand in writing original stories. Success in writing fanfic might be the trigger they need to venture into publishing original work.

Some fanfictions have been published as original stories with varying degrees of success. Some of the most popular stories in this genre are in fact started as fanfictions.

My favorite author, one of the most respected in this genre, Josh Lanyon, said:

“I don't think there's any shame in starting life as a work of fan fiction provided the end result is far enough removed from canon.

In fact, it's worrying to me that some writers are so ashamed of their fandom antecedents that they want to pretend they don't exist.

M/M fiction is rooted in slash and fandom. There is no way around that. Gay romance is rooted in the gay pulps. The two are now inextricably entwined, but they did not spring from the same source. There is no reason they should have or that one is "better" than the other.”

During Slash Month on Chicks & Dicks, we are going to introduce to readers to several fandoms along with some recommendations for first time readers. We will discuss what draws writers to a particular fandom, what makes them write slash in the first place, and what makes them decide to write original M/M romance.

We also have a very special guest blogger, Julianne Bentley from Dreamspinner Press, who will talk about the difference between writing fanfic and original fic and some things to think about if you want to turn your fanfic into an original fic.

Slash Month should be interesting, we hope you enjoy it with us!

Cleon Lee

PS

Perhaps some of you aren’t familiar with some terms that are widely used when we talk about fanfiction and fandoms. Fanfiction is a story written by a fan that is based on existing stories from books, TV series, movies, mangas, comics, games, or even real life people and historical events. Fandom is a term that describes a particular book or TV series from which the fanfiction is based. Star Trek, Harry Potter, and Lord of the Rings are some of the most popular fandoms.

Slash is a term that describes fanfictions where the character is engaged in homosexual relationship with another character (from male-slash-male). Harry/Draco, for example, is one of the post popular pairings in Harry Potter fandom, while Grissom/Nick is quite popular in CSI fandom. The term canon refers to the facts and storyline that exist in the original work.

In the Red by Kari Gregg

2012-01-03T00:00:00.000-08:00

On New Year's day I posted here on Chicks & Dicks and mentioned making some good friends in the past year. Kari Gregg is one of these new, good friends. She's hilarious and unique—probably my two favorite of her many admirable qualities. She's recently joined Chicks & Dicks, as well. Yet another admirable thing about Kari; she's a Chick.

Kari's someone I turn to for advice a lot. Whatever she says tends to make sense and work the way she says it will. I feel like I should put some kind of caveat on that statement. Say, "Her advice tends to make sense, except this one time..." (at band camp). Unfortunately I cannot come up with a single caveat, so...*shrug*

Now, Kari's books, they're hot. Like, people email her to tell her about the moisture content of their panties. Today just happens to be release day for Kari's third book this year, In the Red. I wanted to postpone the start of Slash Month a bit and take a moment to celebrate her and her book. So, here we are; blub, cover, excerpt and buy link. Everything you need for a good book release celebration.

Trust me, if you are at all concerned about the moisture content of your undergarments, Kari is the author for you.

Blurb:

Forensic accountant Brian Foster was a rising star at TFOS -- the FBI'sTerrorism Financing Operations Section -- until he was abducted,"questioned," and left for dead. His nine days of captivity broke him.Brian retreats to the mountains of western Maryland where he amassesenough weaponry to hold off a zombie hoard and enough lamps to pinpointhis location from the International Space Station. He's losing the battleagainst paranoia. Too bad TFOS needs him. Brian stumbled onto somethingbig when he vanished last year and TFOS needs that case resolved. Now.

The FBI tasks Special Agent Zachary Murdock with gluing Brian together andreturning him to TFOS. Brian will steady once he focuses on work insteadof his neuroses. As Zachary nudges Brian back into the career that costhim dearly, Brian's paranoia escalates. Personal and professional linesblur. Zachary isn't sure which presents the biggest complication anymore:Brian's peculiar brand of crazy, the case they're working, or the closetedsubmissive's surprising -- and enthralling -- kink.

Zachary and Brian both know, when the case heats up and they're forced torun, they're operating at a loss, though: they are in the red.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphiclanguage, and material that some readers may find objectionable: BDSMtheme and elements, male/male sexual practices.

Excerpt:

Zachary liked storms. Pyrotechnic lightning, sheets of rain and booming thunder never failed to stir him. The edge of violence in this one had blunted over the Appalachian Mountains before sliding into Foster’s valley at three in the morning, but fat raindrops still warmed Zachary’s skin, drenching his shirt and pants so they molded to his body. The downpour pasted his hair into sodden clumps that dripped into his eyes. The metallic scent of rain tickled his nostrils. He shivered at the crack of a tree limb falling in the woods far to his left.

In the aftermath, bright light glaring from the windows of Foster’s house flickered. Then died.

Zachary waited inside the wood line on the other side of the road, his body stiff and alert until the beam of a lone flashlight cut through the darkness, pinpointing Foster’s location to the living room.

Records from Foster’s psychiatrist that Landis’s techie phreaks had hacked into indicated that Foster was still afraid of the dark. He didn’t need prescriptions for panic attacks anymore. No more nightmares either—Foster’s pride had steadied enough to lie about them. He could handle tight, enclosed places now too.

But the guy was petrified of the dark. Crippled by it.

Paralysis wasn’t good.

Paralysis had kept Zachary out of that house for the last three days and Foster from TFOS for a solid year.

Unacceptable.

A second flashlight beam joined the first inside the house. The twin arrows of light moved in parallel lines, so Zachary knew Foster was mobile. Still functioning.

Moments later, the soft glow of a camp lantern grew to a faint yellow arc leeching at the corner of a nearby window.

Was the bubble of light enough to keep Foster glued together?

Zachary didn’t know.

Since Foster kept his house lit up like a frigging Christmas tree 24-7, Zachary doubted it, but according to the weather alerts that flashed warnings on his phone, the storm wouldn’t last much longer. The power company would restore electricity as soon as they returned it to less isolated areas. The hammer of God pounded in rumbling echoes over the mountain ridges, but resources here wouldn’t be overtaxed.

Foster didn’t need him.

Nor did he need the lover who’d dumped him. Or his family. He sure as hell hadn’t needed the army of doctors and therapists Landis had foisted on him and had wasted little time shedding each. Foster didn’t need anybody. That was what this asinine relocation to the mountains of western Maryland was about. Foster wanted the world to leave him the fuck alone. Even in the dark, when his terror ruled him. Especially then.

Too bad.

Zachary stared at the beacon of light, blinking at rain that slid in thin trickles from his hair into his eyes.

He’d go to the house and knock on the door anyway.

The prick would probably call the sheriff on him. Landis would not be pleased about clearing the red tape of a trespassing charge. The nanosecond Zachary stepped one toe over his property line, his ass was grass, and Foster’s stare three days ago had promised that he was the lawnmower.

Zachary hoped so. If Foster had his shit together enough to demand Zachary’s arrest, that boded well. Very well.

He was betting Foster was all bluster, though. Zachary didn’t think Foster was that steady on his feet.

Zachary stepped free of the woods and crossed the road.

Foster was fine. The geek was too snotty not to be okay. He hadn’t acted like he was teetering on the brink the three days he and Rodriguez had monitored him. The dark would shake him. The psychiatrist’s notes had been both thorough and explicit in that regard, but confronting his phobia wouldn’t cause Foster any lasting damage.

And it would provide Zachary with a narrow window of opportunity.

Tight-lipped and dripping from the storm, Zachary strode over the property line into the no-man’s-land of Foster’s twenty acres. He lowered his head against the sheeting rain and trudged across Foster’s yard, climbed the porch steps. He lifted his hand to the door—

A startled scream answered his knock.

Zachary stiffened. Anxiety coiled his gut.

Oh shit.

The scream settled whatever doubts he might’ve entertained, the terror in Foster’s voice, the sly shadow of remembered pain in it. Zachary’s brow furrowed. “Mr. Foster? It’s Special Agent Murdock,” he called through the screen of the open window next to the door.

Nothing.

He jiggled the doorknob.

Locked.

“Talk to me, Brian.” Zachary’s heart thundered in time with the storm. “If you don’t tell me you’re all right, I’m coming in.”

Not a peep from Foster. Just the sucking draw of his labored breath between thunderclaps and pounding rain.

Foster was coming unhinged.

Zachary’s teeth gritted.

He retreated a couple of feet, lowered his shoulder, and lunged at the door. You’d think a guy who’d survived what Foster had would’ve invested in good locks, a solid door, and a top-of-the-line security system.

Nope.

The flimsy door exploded inward.

Zachary stumbled over the threshold, staggered to right himself, then dived for cover behind the shadowy blur of a table when the deafening crack of a bullet sliced the air next to his ear. He reached for his weapon, drawing it from his shoulder holster before his brain overruled base instinct.

He and Rodriguez had been stationed outside for three days.

The only person in the house—in this entire zip code—was Brian Foster.

And Foster was freaking out.

He’d shot at him!

The little bastard had actually shot at him.

“Brian?” Heart rabbiting in his chest, Zachary burrowed behind the table. “It’s Special Agent Murdock. We met on Monday.” He slipped his credentials folder from his soaked pocket, fought to steady his voice. And his hand. Bad time to dump a truckload of adrenaline into his system, but he pitched his voice to a soothing rumble. “I’m going to slide my identification to you.”

The whimper that greeted those words didn’t encourage him, but Zachary had to try. His reason for crossing the road hadn’t changed. If anything, those reasons had intensified.

Brian was a mess, a sweaty ball of nerves and fear. Zachary just had to talk him down, and talk himself down while he was at it, because his fight-or-flight response had kicked into high gear. His heart thudded against his rib cage. His roaring pulse competed with the buzzing in his ears.

“Don’t shoot.” He leaned over, careful to keep his head and shoulders clear of the doorway. He rested his credentials flush against the gleaming oak floor and gave a mighty shove before ducking behind the furniture again.

No shot rang out.

The only sound was the slick rasp of leather gliding across the floor and a gentle thump when it made contact, coming to an abrupt halt.

Foster moaned low in terror.

Bingo.

His identification had reached the target.

“Take my wallet. Flip it open. Look at the picture.” Zachary didn’t know if Foster complied. He heard movement, but the patter of rain outside the gaping front door and the wet murmur of leaves blowing in the wind masked anything from the living room. “Brian?”

The wallet slid back through the doorway, coming to rest in the center of the entry.

Out in the open.

Until Zachary knew how batshit-crazy Foster was, there was no chance in hell he’d retrieve it.

“I know who you are, Agent Murdock.” Foster laughed. Hollow. Empty. Or maybe he was trying to be hollow and empty, as lifeless as Zachary’s bureau ID in the middle of the floor. But he sucked at it.

The hair at Zachary’s nape prickled at the despair that laced that laugh. It shivered up his spine like a cold, dead finger.
“I know who you are, and I know why you’re here. Do you?”

The laughter was starting to piss Zachary off.

And unnerve him.

Because the hysterical edge faded, replaced by bitter hopelessness.

“The lights went out. I knew you’d be upset, so I checked on you.” Zachary slid the safety of his gun in place with a muffled snick. “That’s why I’m here.”

“You got to my therapist, then. Discussed my…what I…”

Zachary’s brow furrowed at the humiliated defeat in Brian’s hoarse mumble. “Dr. Luwicki wouldn’t talk to us.” He sat, leaning back against the table. His gun dangled between his bent knees. “They broke through the firewall of the company that transcribes her medical records.”

“Landis. I should’ve known.” A chuckle reverberated from the other room, this one not so scared. Or crushed. “The electricity went out. You knew I’d panic.” He paused. “So you broke in?”

Zachary’s lips twisted to a mocking smile at Foster’s incredulous snort. Yeah. In retrospect, that’d been a dumbass thing to do, but after that scream, he’d been desperate for a way in. Zachary angled his head back, resting the crown against the wall. Focused on his breathing. “Sorry about the door.”

“I’ll have a new one installed tomorrow, a better one,” Brian said, his voice rising with anticipation. “Solid steel. With thick dead bolts.”

Zachary’s lips curved. “Send Landis the bill.”

“Breaking down my door was your fault.”

At least this was something he had trained for, what he was good at. “As long as you’re replacing the doors, you might as well do the windows. A stronger door won’t make much difference when anyone with a verifiable pulse could pop your windows. A security system and exterior cameras wouldn’t hurt either.” Zachary grinned, already lining up the contractors he’d selected for each of the jobs. “If you’re worried about the cost, don’t. TFOS will cover it.”

“Shut up.” But Zachary could hear his smile.

“You aren’t going to report me for trespassing.” Zachary’s fingers tightened on the grip of his gun. “Or shoot me.”

“No.” The thud of something heavy hitting the floor resounded from the next room. Then, the grating glide as a 9MM slid over gleaming oak to rest next to Zachary’s credentials in the entry.

“I’ve seen your registration records.” Zachary holstered his weapon because, regardless of his ploy at teasing the fear out of Brian, he was going into that room. Zachary didn’t want to unsettle him further by entering with a gun in his hand. “You own an arsenal. For all I know, you eBayed the components of a nuclear warhead.”

Brian laughed.

A real one.

Warm and husky, it curled inside Zachary. He shook his head, trying to jar the weirdly soothing feeling loose. “Surrendering one gun doesn’t impress me. You’ve got a lot of hardware.”

“I’m preparing for a zombie apocalypse.”

“You could declare yourself an independent nation.” He pushed to his feet, smoothed his palms down his wet pants. “Dr. Luwicki doesn’t like it.”

“She cleared me for buying the guns.”

“She doesn’t think you’re suicidal or homicidal, but that doesn’t mean she thinks it’s healthy.”

“My gun collection is extremely healthy.” Brian snickered. “I’m a horrible shot.”

“You almost tagged me.”

He smiled at Brian’s horrified gasp. “I did not.”

“My ears are still ringing. It was that close.” Squaring his shoulders, back turned to Foster, Zachary stepped to the center of the entry and to his credentials—an easy target if Brian recovered from his dismay at almost killing him, but Foster had calmed down, accepted Zachary’s presence in the house.

After three nights in the woods, he was in.

Maybe breaking down the door hadn’t been such a dumbass idea after all.

Zachary returned his ID to his pocket before kicking the 9MM away. “I’m coming to you, Brian. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shoot me.”

Buy In the Red here.© Kari Gregg, January 2012All Rights Reserved

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T05:33:00.000-08:00

"...compare the Anne T of 1/1/11 to 1/1/12 and if you think she is lacking in any way, with great love, and great tenderness, I will kick your very cute ass."

These words are from a friend of mine who shall remain nameless to protect the...huh. Well, to protect. I mean, seriously, she said I have a cute ass, I have to protect her. Anywho, I am not here to talk about my ass (regardless of its aesthetic value). I am here to talk about my year. My year past, and my year to come.

2011 was a very good year. If I was a wine, I'd be a nice beaujolais. Young, fruity with just the right top note. But actually, the husband is the wine drinker. I drink beer (my current favorite is Bitter American from 21st Amendment Brewery, for those looking for recs). I don't actually know if "top note" has anything to do with beaujolais. Or wine for that matter.

Hmmm, I seem to keep leading myself off-track. Where was I? Oh, my year. It was good, you know? I'm a new person. Literally. One year ago today, I knew who Anne Tenino was, but no one else did. Well, the husband, but he doesn't count.

I submitted my first short story, Happy Birthday to Me and then my first novel, 18% Gray to Dreamspinner and signed contracts on both. By summer, I was an actual, published author (in print, even!). It was bizarre. Made more bizarre by the fact that while a lot of Real Life people know I'm published, very few know my pen name or have read what I've written.

At the end of August, I signed a contract for my second novel, Frat Boy & Toppy, with Riptide Publishing (coming soon to an e-tailer near you). Okay, now that? That brought some things home. Thing A: the first novel wasn't a fluke. Thing B: I could be considered (by some people) to be actually gainfully employed. Depends on how you define "gainfully".

I have most certainly gained in friends. They may be largely virtual friends, but I'm grateful for them nonetheless. You know who you are. Thank you so much for your support, your feedback, and for making my days not so lonely. Cause writing? Lonely.

Readers help with this. It's so nice to know people read what I write and like it. I love to hear from them. Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to write a review or leave a comment somewhere or contact me.

No, everything's not perfect. My children (and quite a few members of my extended family, actually *eyes them askance*) are stubbornly unaware this writing gig is a job. They think it's one of my weird hobbies. Whatevs;, they'll figure it out eventually. Some of my friends have become ill (but will get better), or even passed out of my life, causing me and others loads of pain. I can accept their choices, even if I don't agree.

Overall, 2011 was a good year.

Now, 2012? That's going to be a banner year. I decided, so it will. I'm the decider. I'm planning on attending GRL in Albuquerque. I'm going to get the next three books of the Task Force Iota series done. I'm going to finish Sam's book from the Whitetail series, and I've got a couple of other things up my sleeve. Notably, I have a sooper sekrit projeckt coming out this year for certain.

Possibly most importantly to anyone reading this, Taylor and I will work on this blog, Chicks & Dicks. We plan on continuing with monthly themes, beginning this month (January) with Slash Month. A whole month devoted to different fandoms, recommendations, writers of slash, advice for complete neophytes who only have a vague idea what fanfic is and advice for moving from writing slash to writing original fiction. Slash Month officially begins in a few days, so stay tuned.

February is Non-traditional Heroes month, when we celebrate heroes who aren't the perfect norm. Again, expect a lot of special guests. March will be a biggie—Breakout Month. We'll be having some sooper sekrit special guests, but I'll give you a hint: they write M/F romance, but they've developed storylines with M/M couples. And yes, we'll have more than one. The whole month will be devoted to breaking down the boundaries between and within genres.

Sounds exciting, no? (The answer is "yes".) I think so. So even as I madly type away on New Year's Eve, sending tweens off into the night with fireworks (did I forget to mention that? They don't respect the "office space", I need to divert their boundless energies to the sidewalk), convinced I will not ever finish this current WIP, I'm looking forward to the year. It will be good. And that's not just the champagne talking, I swear.

Have a wonderful 2012!

Anne Tenino

Download The Fix

Jingling my own Balls... One More Time

2011-12-30T05:55:00.000-08:00

Mac and Sam are here, just in time to welcome the new year :-) My first full novel, Six Degrees of Lust has been released from MLR Press . Here's Le Blurb.

New York City FBI team leader Samuel Shaughnessy lives for his immediate family and his job. After a marriage gone wrong he has stuck to a firm rule when it comes to relationships: he doesn't have them. Sexually active and emotionally unavailable keeps him satisfied, especially now that he is in hot pursuit of a serial killer targeting gay men.

Former firefighter Machlan O'Bannon now manages a successful sports bar in Houston and after years of waiting he's ready to stand up and be the man he always wanted to be: out, proud and drama-free. His politically-aligned family wants to keep him locked in the closet, but Mac just wants to meet the man of his dreams.

One man is as high strung as the other is laid back. A chance meeting brings the two men together, and one night of passion ignites a fire neither can fight. Their lives are not only miles apart, but as different as day and night.

They don't want to get involved...but will they be able to stay apart?

L'excerpt

The gods must have been smiling on Sam because, after brushing his teeth, dressing in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and writing down a note for his mother in case she got up and went looking for him, it only took him forty minutes to make his way to Mac. At a club. He was picking him up as opposed to meeting him at his hotel room.

Fucking unreal.

What had possessed him to make such an offer? This wasn't a damn date. It was... a sexual meeting. Yeah. And he'd sped all the way from Queens to Manhattan in order to make it there as soon as possible, not because he was anxious to see this man, but because the sooner he took care of business, the sooner he could go back home.

Yeah. That was it.

He double parked a few feet away from the club's entrance, sent a message to Mac and instinctively scanned the street, something he'd been doing since his days with the police department. People would be surprised if they could see how many normal looking predators lurked the streets, especially around this club. It was the place where some of the victims on the Leviticus case had last been seen.

But then the door opened and all coherent thought escaped Sam.

“Holy Mother of God...”

He rolled down his window and signaled with his truck's high beams until he was sureTexhad seen him. Then he leaned back in his seat and just watched him.

The guy was huge. He was wearing blue jeans that were tight in all the right places and a dark red shirt that brought out his lightly tanned skin and the whiter streaks in his golden blond hair. It also showcased bulging, rippling biceps. His full, sensuous mouth and straight nose softened the sharp angles of his face, and Sam could’ve sworn he was able to see Mac’s emerald green eyes sparkle under the street lights.

He was fucking stunning and Sam was insanely turned on just from watching him walk.

Mac reached the truck and instead of getting in right away he stopped by the driver's side door and smiled. A low moan rumbled its way out of Sam's throat before he even realized it. He loved dimples, and Mac had them in spades.

“Damn,” Mac said. “You are hotter than I remembered.”

Sam felt his face heat up a little under Mac's scrutiny, and all of a sudden wished he had taken more time on his own appearance. But if that burning, hungry stare was any indication, the Texan wasn't put off by Sam’s disheveled state or the fact that he hadn't even bothered to shave. Thank fuck.

“Get in,” Sam all but growled. He didn't take his eyes off the guy for a second. Once he was inside, he asked, “Where to?”

As soon as Tex gave him the name of a trendy hotel in Chelsea, Sam rolled up his window and put his hand on the gear stick, and maybe because he was busy looking at the rearview mirror to make sure no other cars were coming, he never noticed Mac move until it was too late.

A gasp jumped from his throat. He snapped his head to the side and zeroed in on his own hand, covered by hot as hell Texan’s slightly bigger one.

“Rough couple of days, huh?” Mac’s voice was low, his thumb gently caressing Sam's obviously injured knuckles.

Sam cleared his throat and tried to pull his hand back, but seemed to be frozen in place by Mac's touch. “You could say that.”

“Then let's hope I can make it a little better for you, darlin’.”

Nodding, he took a deep breath when Mac removed his hand and settled in the passenger seat, leaving a tingling sensation behind and Sam feeling completely off balance. He wanted to tell the big guy nobody ever touched him without his explicit permission... then he wanted to tell him to bring that hand back, but wrap it around his cock this time.

He wanted to tell him he had no use for words of endearment, even if that sexy as fuck accent made them sound prettier. He wanted to tell him to get the hell out of his damn truck.

But he didn't.

Goddammit, what was wrong with him? Why was he overlooking actions that would be deal-breakers with any other potential lay? Was it because the guy was going back home the next day and there was no chance of Sam running into him again? Or because Sam wanted him so damn much he couldn't see straight anymore? Whatever the reason, it didn't stop him from pulling his SUV out of the parking spot and driving them to Mac's hotel.

They didn't say a thing during the short trip and that was fine. Sam had never been one for small talk. He had no problems sharing his body—to an extent—but his thoughts and feelings were off limits.

He took a deep breath, feeling a little dizzy when Mac's clean, spicy scent hit his nostrils and filled his lungs. Christ. Whatever that cologne was, it had the same affect on Sam as pheromones, which was odd and annoying, as he was usually indifferent to such things.

The anticipation permeating the interior of his truck was damn tangible, and the not so subtle way Mac kept glancing at his mouth, hands, and crotch with those intense cat eyes of his had Sam on the brink of combustion. It was madness, and all of a sudden he felt it was imperative that he take care of business fast, then get the heck away from the gorgeous blond as soon as he could manage.

After finding a parking spot they strode through the hotel lobby, always keeping a safe distance between them. Once inside the elevator they both leaned against the far wall and allowed for their shoulders to touch. Mac's desire was obvious in his labored breathing, clenched jaw, the tension on his insanely broad shoulders, and the wild pulse on his thick neck. Sam couldn’t remember anyone wanting him so badly before…or him reciprocating.

By the time they reached the fifth floor the sexual tension was off the charts. There was no disguising the primal, unadulterated lust that had grabbed them both literally by the balls.

“I'm all the way down the hall.”

Mac pointed to their right and Sam considered getting back in the elevator and going home. Because the sight of that muscular, tanned arm lightly dusted with blond hairs almost made Sam drool, and he was afraid to find out what kind of reaction he would have once he got to see the man naked… or his cock...

Lord, yes!

And just like that he turned and headed in the direction Mac indicated, not waiting for him. He couldn't face the man. Not when he was having such a hard time pretending he wasn't anxious and completely out of his comfort zone.

Christmas with the Cullinans: Tina's Christmas

2011-12-29T00:01:00.000-08:00

Every year on the weekend before Christmas, our home is host to what is pretty much the signature event of the season: a get-together we lovingly call “Tina’s Christmas.”

The name comes from the fact that Jeff, my husband’s longtime friend and our daughter’s godfather, introduced us years ago to Mommie Dearest, which we have watched too many times and can quote almost entirely verbatim. We’ve taken to calling each other “Tina” for years (Christina Crawford, who wrote the book and is featured in the movie), and as our pod of friends have grown, everyone else is open to the moniker as well. We always got together for Christmas in one way or another, but several years ago things took a bit of a twist.

In 2007, Anna’s godfather was facing what he knew would be his last Christmas with his mother, who was dying of colon cancer. His girlfriend was facing a similar end of times with her grandmother, who had always hosted the big family gathering, and now the gathering would be a vigil. They needed a happy Christmas more than ever, but a good one wasn’t going to happen.

We stepped in and said come on over. We set a time. We sent invites and got all decked out. The Cullinans were determined to make this Christmas the best ever. We arranged for Santa to even show up and bring some art supplies. But there was one problem: Jeff and his girlfriend didn’t know what to get Anna. Due to his mother’s illness, he’d missed her birthday, and he wanted to do something big, he said. Well, I told him, she wanted that big animated FurReal horse at Target, but it was kind of pricey. He said, “It’s done.” But then, because he is Jeff, he wanted to make it special. He set up a complicated delivery and reveal, which we had the foresight to capture on video.

My daughter still has the horse. She still loves it, even though the tail has come off and the neck is a bit contorted from overuse. That horse was precious to all of us, though, and not just because she wanted it so badly. Somehow Jeff and Caryle giving Anna that horse she wanted so badly became the balm we all needed. We were all six years old and getting the present we’d yearned for. We all felt our hearts lift as we watched Anna put two and two together and realize that yes, that horse was going to be hers. Every time I watch that video, I feel like hope is alive again, that no matter what crap life brings, sometimes Christmas miracles do happen.

We still get together every year. We’ve added pajamas to the festivities and usually someone has a game or an activity they want us to try. We’ve braved blizzards and bad schedules and illness to be together. Tina’s Christmas is the family we’ve made, the celebration where we friends are kids again, snuggling up to a fire in pajamas and camping out for a winter sleep and breakfast in the morning. It’s absolutely my favorite event of each year.

If you want to relive a little of our Christmas with us, here’s the link to part one and part two of Anna’s discovery of her present. I hope it brings you as much joy as it does me.

Part one
Part two

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Win a copy of Heidi’s novel Dance With Me: just leave your own favorite holiday memory in the comments for your chance to win.

Ed Maurer’s life would be fine if he could just get Laurie Parker off his back. He’s bounced back, more or less, from the neck injury that permanently benched his semi-pro football career, and he volunteers now at a local community center. It’s just that every time he turns around, that damn professional dancer is in his way, hating Ed right back. But when a bargain Ed strikes at the center lands him as an assistant in Laurie’s ballroom dancing class, their perceptions of each other turn upside down. Both Ed and Laurie have heartbreak in their pasts, but somehow dancing together eases their individual pain. For Ed, dancing with Laurie becomes a way to reconnect with his body after losing football. For Laurie, partnering with Ed has erased some of his fear of performing and brought back joy to a sport he wasn’t sure he could ever truly love again.
As Laurie and Ed lose themselves in dance, their lives continue to spin around them: Ed’s injury makes it clear he’s nowhere near recovery, Laurie feels the pressure by friends and family to perform once more, and the community center that has become such an important part of both their worlds threatens to close. Alone, they haven’t had the strength or spirit to face what life has hurled at them. But as the turns of their personal paths lead them into the arms of love, Ed and Laurie begin to think that if they dance this dance together, they might be able to succeed.

Read Excerpt *** Buy now

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Heidi has always loved a good love story, provided it has a happy ending. She enjoys writing across many genres but loves above all to write happy, romantic endings for LGBT characters because there just aren’t enough of those stories out there. When she isn’t writing, Heidi enjoys knitting, reading, movies, TV shows on DVD, and all kinds of music. She has a husband, a daughter, and too many cats.

Find out more at www.heidicullinan.com, follow her on Twitter, or sign up for her newsletter.

Favorite... or not so much, books of 2011 by Nikyta Jenkins

2011-12-28T03:47:00.000-08:00

I’ve been reviewing books steadily for about a year now but only have been reading for about four years. I started off because a friend wanted some spoilers on a new book and then before I knew it people were liking what I wrote. I realized it was a great way to settle my thoughts about a book, to give words to the emotions I felt while reading all these stories. I write short reviews and long reviews and even longer reviews depending on how passionate I feel about certain books. I write my reviews as honestly as I can and at times I’m brutally honest but there’s rarely ever a time when I didn’t like at least something out of a story. I read because it’s a way not only to get out of my own head but to get into the author’s as well.

My preferences in books range from sweet and cute to violently cruel. I can read anything and everything and still end up liking it. I prefer fantasy books the most because I love details and being able to get lost inside a new world. All genres have their own appeal, though, and I’ve read some really great books published in 2011 in varies genres.

Out of the Woods, along with its sequel, Twice Caught. Out of the Woods by Syd McGinley is set in a post-apocalyptic world where there are men and there are ‘boys’. Men keep the compound safe and provide for the boys while the boys keep the men sane and give them someone to protect and care for. It’s a nice spin on the usual ‘after the world ended’ theme. It’s funny (with Tarin’s “no socks!” vehemence), sweet, unusual and a bit harsh. I love this book and the sequel because, for one, there’s kidnapping and that’s one of my favorite elements in a book. Besides that, I loved the emotions that developed between Tarin, the boy, and Garrick, the man. Tarin hated Garrick at first but he slowly came to love him and they both have a heart of gold that is extremely endearing. Their story continues in Twice-Caught, which picks up where Out of the Woods ends. I loved that book just as much as the prequel because you continue to see their relationship and love grow, their trust grow and see them settle into the new life they acquired in Out of the Woods.

As I’ve said, one of the things that make a book exceptional to me is details. Teacher Plus Two by Valentina Heart and Raven and the Wolf by Mari Evers had excellent descriptions and plots. While Teacher Plus Two is sci-fi and ménage, the different species between the trio and the secondary characters was amazing and I took great pleasure in reading the book. Raven and the Wolf is strictly fantasy and has an amazing world. This story sucked me in right from the start with its world and the characters that inhabit it.

The Time of the Singing by Louise Blaydon is a very controversial story. It involves a priest and one of his altar servers. I loved this book because it’s a theme not many authors will touch and that makes the story both unique and appealing. I loved the characters and their determination. While it’s not a perfect book (there are a few problems with it), it sucked me in almost from the start so it was still a great read and I know I’ll be thinking about it for a while to come.

Mobsters and gangs hold a special place in my heart along with fantasies. I love the cruelty and cold-heartedness related to everyone in mobs and gangs. They do what they need to because that is the way their life is and if killing someone or hurting someone is the way it’s supposed to be, then that’s how it is. Therefore, Yakuza Pride by H.J. Brues was an awesome book in my eyes. I loved seeing the workings of the Yakuza but more than that, I loved the characters. I loved seeing the cold-hearted Shigure Matsunaga fall into a million pieces for Kenneth Harris. I love seeing these hardened men breakdown, soften and give up everything for that special someone.

A couple of other books I’ve loved this year:

Divide and Conquer by Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux is a favorite now because I’m a total Ty and Zane fan. If you don’t know who that is, well, go and read Cut & Run because aside from Tarin and Garrick, Ty and Zane are one of my favorite couples. In D&C, their relationship grows; they’re put through some hard times and in the end they learn to trust each other even more than before while their love continues to expand as well. I eagerly await the next book in the series.

It's Not Shakespeare by Amy Lane is a very sweet story that has to do with race, trust and financial troubles. It’s a quick and easy read, one that I’ll re-read time and time again because the flow of the story is nice, the characters are complete opposites and the angst is minimal but still enough for me to feel for them.

The Usual Apocalypse by Christine Price is a great sci-fi in a contemporary setting. The characters are spunky and snarky, the plot is interesting and different but more than that, the mystery is engaging and drew me in from the start.

Dance With Me by Heidi Cullinan is one of those rare books that had my heart clenching and my hand throbbing. I fell in love with the characters, Ed and Laurie, and their sweet story. They are both broken in one way or another which made them all the more appealing but it was the way they healed each other that did it for me. The story might seem generic to some but to me it was exceptional and had that special spark that very few books I read give me.

Basically, I’ve had a great reading year. I’ve read a ton of awesome books and enough amazing books for me to have a nice collection of re-reads. However, there have been a few books this year that have been less than stellar, those few books I waited impatiently to be released and then ended up being disappointed but thankfully that was very rarely. I can only think of three books that, while the premise is great, the delivery was not appealing to me.

Under The Skin, by Nicki Bennet and Ariel Tachna, is the story about a cop and a Russian mobster. Granted, I love mob stories but this particular book left me bereft. From start to finish is almost all sex, which put me off tremendously. One of my main problems with books is they sometimes have way too much sex for my liking. I like plot and lots of it. I want to know about the characters, their trials and how the story unfolds and usually, in my case, I feel like the sex hinders that view. With Under the Skin, I was severely disappointed because I barely knew the characters and the plot was almost non-existent.

He Completes Me, by Cardeno C. was something I was highly anticipating. I love friends of brothers’ stories and while I loved the story as a whole, the characters and delivery were both too sweet and too perfect for me. I also felt like the conflicts within the story were too conveniently resolved and too easily brushed under the rug. I had a very bad reaction to one of the conflicts within the story because while it seemed huge to me, the characters felt differently and after a short talk, they never spoke of it again. That more than anything left me unsatisfied with the book even if I did like the story in the end.

Lastly, The Tourist, by Clare London, was one of those books that was highly recommended to me. Everyone seemed to love the story and while the premise is interesting, it was extremely hard for me to connect with the narrator, Ace. My views seemed to be vastly different from the norm because I felt like Ace was selfish, slutty and arrogant which made me liking the story very hard.

Even when I don’t particularly like a story, there’s always that one thing about it that makes it worth reading, worth giving that few hours of my time to complete the book without regretting it. For someone like me, that’s all I can ever ask for because I enjoy reading for the simple pleasure of reading and getting into the minds of exceptional authors.

When Santa Cums to Town by Vicktor Alexander

2011-12-27T00:01:00.000-08:00

In my biological family we celebrated both Hanukkah and Christmas. My birth mother is a Messianic Jew and my birth father is a former Muslim, turned Christian pastor, so the holidays were always extremely busy and extremely exciting for me. Whether I got presents or gave them, I was the most excited person in the world. This year the excitement is still there but now turned in a different direction. Now the excitement is more about new traditions with my new family, making plans for traditions with my fiancé, and putting all of my holiday cheer into writing. It’s one of the reasons why I love this holiday season. People are much more loving and happy (until they get their credit card statements for all of their Christmas purchases) and in my mind, people are a whole lot more naughty.

I think I’m probably one of the only people who thinks that Santa isn’t really some really big, fat dude, with white hair and a long white beard, who, while jolly, spends 364 days preparing for the one night when he’s supposed to be delivering presents and coal to all the people of the world. In my mind, Santa Clause is some really sexy cowboy, whose very male mate (wait, you didn’t know Mrs. Clause was a beard?), roped him into taking one night to be over-the-top generous to all of the people in the world. Santa is hunky and his mate is very responsive and uses his body to get Santa to agree to anything and everything. Usually right when Santa is about to orgasm.So his mate waits for the perfect opportunity to remind Santa that he has one night to spend out in the world spreading joy. The other 364 days? Well, then he can spend it being a cowboy.

I think that’s where the idea for “A Very Tate Christmas” came from. Ton, Vet, Howell, Ross and Calvin are such big, huge cowboys, that having the opportunity to see them all dressed up as Santa and spreading joy, was something too good to pass up.

And honestly, isn’t that what Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, the winter solstice and all of these other winter holidays are about? Giving joy, happiness, receiving smiles and giving them back, laughter and love (no matter what color, gender, nationality, religion, political affiliation, size or sexuality). And people and having that moment, that perfect opportunity to remind ourselves and others that inside of all of us is this little piece of goodness, of positivity, of love without restrictions…that we all have the perfect piece of Christmas inside of us that we can use all year long.

A Very Tate Christmas: Tommy Wilkins has always loved Christmas. Not just because he loves to dress up as a very naughty elf, but because it seemed as if Christmas was the time of year when everyone was happy and went out of their way to make others happy. So with that thought in mind, Tommy sets out to make this Christmas, the best Christmas that the Tate pack has ever had. But it seems as if one thing after another goes wrong. First, there’s no Santa Clause in the decorations and Tommy has to…bribe…Ton into agreeing to play Santa. Then Richard sprains his ankle practicing a dance for the big Christmas show. Michael’s fingers are broken when he goes to help Richard and now he can’t sign the words to the Christmas carols. And Alex loses his voice and won’t be able to sing. Tommy really wanted to give the Tate triplets a fabulous first Christmas, but it seems like all the forces of the Earth are plotting against him and he’s just about to throw in the fabulous bejeweled rainbow towel when Calvin, one of the cowboy pack members, shows up with his mate. His very abused, very skittish, very deprived mate, Maurice. Now Tommy has to make sure that Christmas happens for the pack because Maurice needs to learn how truly loving and accepting, the Tate pack family really is.

Excerpt:

Tommy’s eyes filled with tears as he watched Maurice crawl away from them, pressing his back against the far wall. The smaller man’s limbs shook, his long black hair covered his face as he rocked back and forth chanting Calvin’s name.

“So what do you think?” Alex asked, his voice hoarse and soft as all four mates stood huddled together watching as Calvin rushed into the room and lifted the trembling smaller man into his arms. Tommy sighed as he watched the cowboy carefully walk away with his mate cradled against his chest, the smaller man’s scream still echoing in his head.

“I think that no matter what we have to do, even if I have to sign, Richard has to sing, Alex has to dance and Michael has to perform, we have got to make sure that this Christmas show actually happens. Maurice needs this almost as much if not more than the triplets. We have to show him that he has a family here now. That he’s safe. It’s up to us to show him what Christmas is all about,” Tommy stated emphatically. He watched as the other mates blinked at him in surprise before each one slowly nodded their heads and smiled.

“I agree,” Richard said with a grin.

“So do I,” Alex croaked out.

Michael nodded his head emphatically, touching both of his hands to his chest, the casts making a soft clicking noise as they touched.

A Very Tate Christmas , releases on December 24, 2011, from The Rooster and The Pig Publishing and can be found on http://www.allromanceebooks.com

Vicktor Alexander enjoys writing about cowboys, shifters, firemen, Doms, subs and lots of other sexy men having lots of naughty man-on-man sex. No fluff writer here, Vic still makes sure that his men ride off into the sunset, happy, in love, and sexually satisfied, but bearing the scars from having fought for that love. Whenever Vic isn’t writing, or procrastinating in writing, he is playing the Sims 3, hanging out with his awesome adopted family, being distracted from writing by his partner Daniel, or drooling over pictures of John Barrowman, Shemar Moore and Scott Hoying behind Daniel’s back.

To our readers...

2011-12-25T09:50:00.000-08:00

From the Chicks & Dicks

Thank you for supporting us :-)

Finally Home by K-Lee Klein

2011-12-24T05:26:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays everyone. I really have to thank Chicks & Dicks for having me since I’m a total newbie. A little about me – I’m a Canadian girl (unfortunately not so much a girl now as a mom of three almost-grown kids), I’ve been addicted to m/m romance for about 4 years and my Christmas story, Finally Home, is my first time out of the gate at getting published. Holiday stories are always a favorite of mine because they usually involve sappy, mushy emotional stuff and couples that just want to enjoy the holidays and each other. My story is a little different, a little sad in places, but all about the happy in the end. It’s also the first in a series about Josiah and Wyatt. I hope you enjoy it.It’s available on December 27 at MLRBooks.com

My favorite part of Christmas, besides spoiling my kids rotten, is all the lights. If I had my way I’d have our outside house lights lip up all year round, and I do have some in the house that I do just that with. This year hubby put a string of multicolor lights up in my room, around my window and they form a kind of heart. I find them very soothing and spirit-lifting and I’m pretty sure I’ll leave them up all year, too. Last night we went to something called Zoolites at the Calgary Zoo. It was a little chilly but totally fed my light-obsession and fascination. Awesome.

~~K-lee~~

Finally Home

Blurb:

When his father’s funeral brings Josiah Nelson back to his childhood home during the Christmas holidays, he’s determined to sell the ranch and bury his past. But when Wyatt Aames rekindles a fire in Josiah’s lonely soul, he realizes that home isn’t the house you grew up in, it’s where your heart belongs.

Excerpt:

Coming back to this old-fashioned, backwoods town was Josiah’s last journey to his childhood home and he never planned on gracing the outskirts of this depressing place again. There was nothing left for him here, no one left for him since his daddy had kicked him out almost three years before. He planned on getting rid of the junk inside the house, maybe nailing a board here and there, adding the odd coat of paint and selling the fucker as soon as he could. The last of his childhood memories would be gone and then maybe he could start over without the damaging remembrances and what-ifs hanging over his head. Put the old man in his grave and move the fuck on.

He hoped putting all this to rest was what he needed to learn to smile again, to laugh, have fun, meet someone new and forget the face that had clouded his mind all these years. Being away didn’t mean he’d built a better life, just a different one; one that was filled with solitude and at least partial acceptance. The diner he worked at was old and run-down but it was a job and the owners were decent to him considering he’d come to them without a resume or any experience whatsoever. They’d also set him up in the tiny apartment upstairs, furnished with a single bed, a small chest of drawers and even a little desk that he really had no use for. He always told himself he needed to find a hobby, something to occupy his time when he wasn’t working, but he never found the motivation to that either. He liked his simple, quiet life and for now that was good enough.

“Josi?”

The single word reverberated inside Josiah’s skull, not so much for the word itself but the low, gravelly voice that spoke it. For a mere second he thought his heart might stop, the harsh reality of having the voice of his past, and more importantly, the owner of the voice he couldn’t get out of his head even after so long, standing right behind him. His brain leapt to the assumption that he was hallucinating, wishful thinking that the man was so close he could smell the woodsy scent of freshly shorn hay and coffee and sweat.

“Josiah?” the voice repeated just before a hand settled on his shoulder, straying away from the childhood nickname Josiah had always loathed. Except he hadn’t hated it so much when his mama spoke it, his mama or…

“Wyatt… what are you doing here… how’d you get in?”

Josiah held his breath as he turned around and Nathaniel Wyatt Aames the third stepped out of the shadows. Still handsome and lean, his friend’s unruly, dark brown curls falling just past his ears, full, pouty lips curled up in a grin mirrored in the bright emerald eyes that sunk deep into Josiah’s soul. He tried not to rake his eyes up and down the body of his former friend, his former and present wet dream, but it was damn hard not to stare at the broad chest covered only by a threadbare white t-shirt and the low-slung faded jeans that hugged slim hips, strong thighs and everywhere else in just the right way. Damn. Wyatt had filled out nicely; more than nicely actually. The former one-hundred pound weakling had been transformed into over six-feet of muscled stud in the time that Josiah had been away.

“I knew you were coming in tonight,” Wyatt was saying. “I wanted to welcome you home.” He smiled that mischievous grin that haunted Josiah’s dreams, the ones that left him hard and desperate upon waking, one hand wrapped around his dick as he cried out in what could only be described as pleasure and pain mixed together into an earth-shattering, agonizing release.

Josiah forced himself to sweep the memory from his brain, the crotch of his jeans becoming more uncomfortable and snug even as he tried. He scuffed the toe of his sneaker against another crack in the hardwood, concentrating on getting his emotions and raging hard-on under control before he had to speak.

Links

K-lee Klein website www.kleeklein.com

Finally Home on GR http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13044248-finally-home

A Picture Perfect Holiday by Z.A. Maxfield

2011-12-23T06:00:00.000-08:00

I am honored to be over here with Chicks and Dicks to Jingle My Balls for the holidays. I don't have a way to describe this year's holiday yet, because it's different from the last twenty. This is the first year I have a kid who doesn't live at home and I am a fierce, crazy mother.

It's true when my daughter was born nineteen years ago I had no idea what to expect. I'd spent my whole life like a plug without an outlet, wanting something that was just beyond my field of vision, just beyond my reach. When my daughter was born, the first of my four children, it was like every gear in my life locked together and fell into place to make my motor run for the first time. Like firing up all twelve cylinders on a Lamborghini Murcilago Roadster and taking it out for a spin on the track. Which is not to say I'm a great mother, only that I'm more comfortable there than anywhere else and when my motherhood powers are fully engaged I am more than the sum of my parts.

This year, I've had to come to the hard realization that while the title Mother doesn't have an expiration date -- never even beyond death, I'm sure -- the functional job of motherhood does. In fact some of the jobs I'm doing are manifesting themselves like negative space to me, it's what I don't do for my daughter now that defines me as her mother.

For Christmas break, which is a month long, I have a plan to drive up and back with one of the twins to get her. I'll drive up and back with the other to take her back. When she's not with us, it will be a great opportunity for some alone time with the boys. But for Thanksgiving, since it's only four days, the only way we could get her down was for her to come by herself on the train.

A little bit about my parenting style. I'm a control freak. Plain and simple. It's not easy for me to let a kid go to school without homework if they leave it behind. Without lunch if they forget it. It's not easy for me to let them experience disappointment or failure or pain, but I do. I have to. I won't always be here, and lunches don't deliver themselves.

I don't rescue, because I am not immortal.

I don't advise (Well. Yeah. That one's a tough motherfucker.) and I didn't send her tickets for the train when she wanted to come home for Thanksgiving. Instead I told her how to get them. I made sure she had the cash and told her to man up and buy them herself. I asked her to arrange for her own transportation -- to put her five-foot-nothing-self onto a bus to the train station and get there on time, and to find her way home because if I don't let her know how to do it and then let her do it for herself, she will never be able to do it.

And I can beg her to please do that plenty early because the Wednesday before Thanksgiving is the biggest travel day of the year and it's not like there's an unlimited number of seats.

Sometimes, being a good mother means I need to stare at an empty seat at the holiday table knowing that a lesson I didn't want my daughter to learn has been learned.

Sometimes it means knowing she's in a dormitory up north with no food service until Sunday night. But there is also knowing she's making new friends with other stranded students, eating ravioli from the microwave, ordering a pizza, or sitting alone wondering why her mom didn't just make it easier for her. Wondering why her mom thought it was okay for her to spend Thanksgiving in exile when I'd always said -- and she'd always believed --I love her up to the sky and back over and over, forever.

When I write, I keep one thing in my heart. Once I became that tiny, perfect, laughably insignificant -- in the grand scheme of things -- girl's mother, I became everyone's mother. I can understand people better. I can serve them better. And from a writer's perspective I'm free to give everyone the happy ending they deserve. I don't have to hold back because my characters are never required to be independent of me. I can move them around my imaginary chessboard at will, giving them life experiences they can learn from because I'm in control. I can give them the wisdom they need because they don't have to earn it.

My daughter's (and my own) holiday lesson, painful as it might be for me, has been earned, for her, at the cost of a new adventure, learning to make new friends, finding a place to call her own because family can't always be there. That's a great lesson. A wonderful lesson. This experience has already given her a patina of confidence, this kind of shimmer that only comes from pride of accomplishment. From experiencing a setback and rising above it.

Would a character in one of my books run into someone who happened to be driving to their hometown for Thanksgiving? Someone who would give them a ticket, a lift, a lifeline? Sure. My character would get that. Or he or she would meet someone in the dorm while they celebrated a lonely Thanksgiving holiday.

Would they fall in love and live happily ever after? You BET.

Will that happen for my baby?

I don't know. That's her journey.

~ZAM~

zamaxfield@yahoo.com
http://zamaxfield.com
http://zamaxfield.blogspot.com/

Photography club president Caleb loves football standout Christian Muñez. He knows it’s an old high school chestnut, but if being a cliché is wrong, he doesn’t want to be right. They’ve been in school together since the fifth grade but having brothers on the same soccer team provides Caleb with a great opportunity to get to know Christian better. What he finds out – about Christian’s home life and his future plans – could end his hopes forever. Or they might be the beginning of something wonderful.

MLR Press

Amazon Kindle

Christmas Day Marathons by Blaine D. Arden

2011-12-22T00:01:00.000-08:00

We don't really celebrate Christmas with presents -- here in the Netherlands, we have Sinterklaas for that -- so, we tend to divide our Christmas between visiting family and holding game marathons.

We Ardens are a very individualistic family of geeks, basically. We all have our own activities and interests and we love our computers to bits. Which means that, outside dinner, we don't spend that much time together. A game marathon, to us, is a combination of being together, fun, sharing and beating the hell out of each other.

I'm not sure why we started, because I live with three competitive men who hate losing. In hubby's case it's more pretending not to hate it, but trying every trick in his book to win and not always willing to 'let' the boys have the honour. For the boys it was always a real case of screaming and temper tantrum inducing hate when they were younger. We've had to stop many a game half way or even after barely beginning, because one of the boys couldn't get a handle on their emotions anymore and pieces would be flying everywhere.

And yet, we persisted.

I became an ace at losing without tipping the boys off -- the joys of having smart kids -- hubby tried, but liked to win too much, and the boys grew up and realised they didn't have to work so hard at beating daddy any more.

I have no idea what this year's marathon will bring, but I'm looking forward to a whole day of no computer and all play :)

I am Blaine D. Arden, a purple haired, forty-something, writer of gay romance with a love of men, music, mystery, magic, fairies (the pointy eared ones), platform shoes and the colours black, purple and red, who sings her way through life.

During NaNoWriMo I worked on a trans* story about an Investigator falling in love with a man who he finds out was the woman suspected of the murder case he's working on. I need to let that rest for a bit before I start polishing that, so right now, I'm working on a story set in the same universe as 'The Forester', about a mute baker and his obsession with scars. Once I finish that, I still have some ideas left, and new ones tend to pop up at the most inopportune time, so there's plenty left to write about.

Meanwhile, I have two stories coming up with Storm Moon Press. 'The Forester', an m/m fantasy solstice short, to be released on 22 December, and 'The Fifth Son', an m/m fantasy novella, to be released on 9 March 2012.

You can find Blaine:
Website
Twitter
Facebook
Goodreads
email: blaine@blainedarden.com

The Forester
Buy Link

Tired as I was after spending all day scouring the clearing for evidence and examining Cyine’s body, I wasn’t granted any rest yet. Someone knocked on my door just as I finished washing up and changing my clothes. I regretted opening the door as soon as I saw Ianys standing on the other side, but I resisted slamming it closed.

“What do you want?” I asked, not caring how hostile I sounded.

After all this time, Ianys couldn’t even look at me as he stood there, fidgeting with his tunic, eyes lowered to the ground.

Ianys was as gorgeous as he ever was. Brown, short cropped, messy hair, as if he had just risen from sleep, his muscles visible through the tight tunic. He was a tree elf, broad and more muscular than when we had been together, but as a smith that was to be expected; working the bellows was a pretty hefty workout in itself. I pushed down the memory of watching him work when we were together.

In all the turns since he’d left me, betrayed me, he had barely spoken two words to me. Instead, I had to watch from afar how he vowed himself to another, only to lose her to illness after their daughter, Atén, was born. I’d watched how hard he worked at being a good father, how he, finally, became a full-fledged smith. He’d never once approached me, but the hope lingering inside me could never be buried deep enough. How could I still want him? After eight turns, I should know better.

“I don’t have time for this, Ianys. I am tired and I—”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Can’t it wait till morning?”

I had to bite my lip to keep from reacting when he finally looked up. His green eyes, filled with turmoil, drew me in the way they had always done. I loved him once. I shook my head. Who was I kidding? I never stopped.

Holding the door open, I stepped aside to let him in, staying in the small hallway until I managed to compose myself.

“He didn’t do it, Kel.”

Whatever whoever had or hadn’t done was the furthest thing from my mind when Ianys called me by that name. I clenched my fists and turned my back to him, hoping he couldn’t see how it affected me. “You have no right to call me that.”

A long silence followed. I tried to school my features, but I was too drained. Instead, I kept my back to him and waited for him to break the silence. I heard him sigh.

“I heard they accuse him of killing Cyine, but he didn’t do it,” Ianys finally said.

“Who?” What could Ianys know about the murder?

“Taruif.”

I froze. My first instinct was to tell Ianys he shouldn’t be saying the name, shouldn’t even think it, but there was something in Ianys’ voice that made me stop. Something of a memory from long ago, when I didn’t know how Ianys betrayed me, and we lay together in the dark, and he would whisper my name in that same way.

It could not be true. But when I finally turned around and looked at him, it was all too clear in Ianys’ face. The one I loved—had loved—and the one I desired, joined in illicit relations.

I should arrest Ianys, should send him to face the elders and have him punished, shunned, shut out for his digression. But then I pictured Atén looking at me with those same green eyes, and I knew I could not rob her of a father as well.

“He didn’t do it, Kelnaht. He couldn’t have done it, for I—”

I shook my head and held my hand up to stop him. “Don’t tell me, Ianys. I beg of you, do not confess to this… this abomination.”

It hurt me to say it, having the same feelings myself, but if he told me, I could not help him. Being caught talking to the Forester was bad enough, though I had the right to pardon him for that, a first offence. But confessing to laying with a shunned, that would have to be reported to the elders; it was my duty. I would not be able to save him then.

“He saw someone outside, Kelnaht. He didn’t see Cyine, but he noticed someone out in the dark in that clearing.” His eyes begged me to understand, begged me to help him, but I was rooted to the floor.

I knew the Forester—I could not allow myself to think of him by name—knew he hadn’t killed Cyine, even if the evidence was still inconclusive. I had no doubt in my mind, no matter how loud Olden proclaimed him guilty. And here Ianys was, confirming my belief in his innocence and giving me the best and worst witness I could ever have. No matter whether I believed Ianys or not, I could never use this information. The Forester was out of bounds.

“Kel, please, help us. Help him. I could have been out walking when I stumbled across the clearing. You know I don’t always sleep well.”

I bit my lip and clenched my fists. I didn’t want him to bring our history up. I didn’t want him to tell me about the Forester. I wanted him gone, wanted him to go back to his daughter and go back to not being part of my life. But I found myself unable to turn him out.

“You would perjure yourself, would risk losing your daughter?”

“No! No one but you knows the truth.”

I laughed at that, flinching at the harsh sound. “I am the Truth Seeker, Ianys. I seek the truth; I do not bury lies.”

“But I was in the forest.”

“But you didn’t see what he saw. One mistake and you will be shunned, just like him.”

Ianys flinched then. He shook his head. “There has to be a way.”

“Get him to talk to the Guide.”

“Anything the Guide hears during those conversations is confidential. He can’t reveal anything Taruif tells him.”

“Please.” The word left my mouth before I could stop it. I couldn’t handle him speaking that name with such devotion. Not when I ached to be able to myself. “Remember who you are talking to, Ianys. Do not incriminate yourself any further.” I leaned back against the wall, trying to keep upright and closed my eyes. “Go home, Ianys. I need to… I need to think.”

I swatted away the hand touching my cheek and waited until I heard the door close before letting myself slide to the floor.

Josh Lanyon - American Grandstand

2011-12-21T00:00:00.000-08:00

I’m just going to be right up front with y’all and come right out and say it: I’m a Josh Lanyon fangirl. I would think it would be easy to write an intro for this post, but it’s strangely…not. Is it because there’s too much to say about him? Should I cover how freely Josh shares advice when asked? Or his unique perspective on the male/male world? Possibly his astounding (to me) ability to say a lot very succinctly and very clearly. I just don’t know.

I should probably mention the fact that I like him as much now as I did before I knew him a little from hanging out in his Goodreads Q&A group. I could say the reason we asked him to write a post about self-promotion this month is becase he has consistently given us great advice about having a presence on the internet. I’d tell you he’s a perfect guest for Jingle Your Balls month.

Then I think about how he is all those things—clear, succinct, generous, unique, likeable, gives great advice, wonderful guest—and I think, you know, he probably doesn’t need an intro from me. The readers (being you) of this post will read it and realize it all themselves. So you know what? I’m not going to bother. Josh doesn’t need my intro.

That’s a relief. I really didn’t know what I was going to say.

American Grandstand

There are two kinds of writers in this world. Those who hate self-promotion. And those who hate self-promotion even more.

Despite the fact that you have to have a certain amount of ego to believe anyone would want to read your stories, the writing temperament rarely contains the traits best suited to, er, strutting your stuff. As any author will tell you, writing is the fun part. Advertising…not so much. This means that when writers attempt to flog their wares, the results can be as painful to watch as they are to perform.

Which doesn’t change the fact that self-promotion is a necessary evil. Done badly, it can cost you as many readers as it wins, leaving you in a kind of permanent stasis. Done well -- and consistently -- self-promotion will lead to a slow but steady build of readership. The key is consistency. Not merely consistency in mode and method, but consistency in the message. We call that consistent message “branding.”

Branding is a two part deal. The first part of the brand has to do with your work. The second part of your brand has to do with your authorial persona. Ideally these two things mesh. Meaning, if you write bubbly romantic comedy, you don’t want to come across as dour old stick in the mud in your author appearances -- whether online or live and in person.

*NOTE* Being that we’re all working in the field of male male fiction, which is synonymous with erotic romance, it’s unnecessary to brand yourself as someone who loves handsome men and/or the smexy. That pretty much describes every writer in our genre. Your brand needs to be something a little more unique and a little more memorable than pictures of hawt, nekkid men.

In the golden days of yore, self-promotion was pretty simple. Everyone had a website -- which continue to this day to function as your cyber business card -- most authors had a blog (and about six devoted readers), most authors arranged signings at local bookstores (attended by about six devoted readers), and most authors sent out review copies to newspapers (which mostly ignored them). If you were adventurous, you went to a couple of writing conferences.

As you can see, the emphasis was on live interaction with readers. Two things changed that. One was the proliferation of ebooks. The second was the proliferation of authors. The days when a book signing was a big deal to anyone but the author are long gone. Author signings have become so common that bookstores now schedule them midweek. In our genre most books are sold in the form of ebooks, so it makes sense that most of the promotion takes place online. For us, the bare essentials for self-promotion consist of a website, a blog, and a Facebook account.

Why Facebook? Very simple. It’s still the single largest social media network on the planet -- and it continues to be the fastest growing. And yes, we all know how cumbersome and intrusive Facebook can be. You’re there to market and advertise. As with all your self-promotion efforts, remember to keep your private life, private. Do not link personal and fan pages unless your “personal” page is just another author page.

This is not to say that you are restricted to using Facebook, just that Facebook is one of the essentials. Authors today have an incredible array of social media tools at their disposal. Goodreads, Tumblr, Shelfari, Twitter, Google+, Linkedin, etc. That’s the good news. The bad news is that means there are more platforms than ever for the socially inept to step on a banana peel.

Three things to avoid in your social media interactions: getting into online brawls, sharing potentially embarrassing personal information, and barraging people with advertising.

*NOTE* Avoid focusing your promotional efforts on other writers. While it’s certainly true that all writers are readers, it’s also true that the busier one’s own writing career becomes, the less time one has to read. Don’t confuse networking with promotion. Do not misread the praise and support of fellow authors and aspiring authors with reader enthusiasm. Above all, do not believe your own press.

Can you game the system? Can you manufacture false buzz about your work? Can you manipulate bestseller rankings?

You bet. And sometimes it will even pay off, if the work is ultimately strong enough. Social media sites are vulnerable to collusion. But it will cost you, and not just in dollars and cents, and it will only take you so far. A successful writing career is not made up of one bestselling book. So even if you’re prepared to buy multiple copies of your own work, organize glowing reviews, and spend all your time bopping around the web making personal appearances, you’ll most likely plateau within a couple of books. Then it’s back to the trenches with everybody else. Only it’ll be harder because, despite my advice, you are going to believe your own press.

The key to all social interaction, both online and in person, is to add value to the conversation. It’s that simple. Readers will follow and friend you if you have something to say worth hearing. That’s why the conversation can’t always be about you and about your book -- even if the ultimate reason you’re on line and participating is to sell yourself and your book.

It will help if you stop thinking of readers as prospective customers and start thinking of them as fellow book lovers. Interact with readers from the perspective of another reader. Tap into the passion for stories and writing that led you to want to be an author in the first place. Share a bit of yourself. If readers love your work, they will be interested in you, curious about what inspires you, motivates you, where your ideas come from, and how much of you is in these wonderful characters. Be generous with your readers. Give them your time and attention -- and the occasional free book.

*NOTE* Quit blogging on topics that are only of interest to other writers. Why in the world do all new authors instantly start giving other writers advice? Is that honestly the only thing the newly published can think to talk about? Unless you have a special insight or a unique publishing experience, you’re preaching to the choir. Direct the conversation toward readers and remember to focus on what makes you different and special from all the other writers blogging and posting and updating and tweeting.

Finally, remember to balance promo time with writing time. Part of the danger with focusing so much on promotion is that it often comes at the expense of the writing. That really is a shame because the single most effective promotional tool any writer has is a really great book.

Bio

A distinct voice in gay fiction, multi-award-winning author JOSH LANYON has been writing gay mystery, adventure and romance for over a decade. In addition to numerous short stories, novellas, and novels, Josh is the author of the critically acclaimed Adrien English series, including The Hell You Say, winner of the 2006 USABookNews awards for GLBT Fiction. Josh is an Eppie Award winner and a three-time Lambda Literary Award finalist.

http://www.joshlanyon.com

The Fix by Anne Tenino

2011-12-20T00:01:00.000-08:00

I’ve been procrastinating about writing this post, trying to figure out how to make it address both what the holidays mean for me and about Jurgen and Nik.

The reason I need to write about Nik and Jurgen is because I have a new freebie out featuring them. The Fix is a short story—about 9,000 words— the second in my Whitetail series, begun with Whitetail Rock download it here. To download The Fix, click here or follow the link after the excerpt. Both of these stories feature Nik and Jurgen. (For those of you who are wondering, I have a third planned story featuring Sam that I’m writing now.)

But back to the point I was making. The thing is, for me, holidays and special dates just aren’t a big deal. Special moments are a big deal, but in my life they have rarely coincided with special dates (birthdays being an exception, cause that’s about me). I was trying to figure out how to get that across to all of you out in bloglandia, and not coming up with much.

Then my mother-in-law called and said, “Happy Anniversary!”

Oh. Yeah…

We are not a sentimental people. We have always been this way. We didn’t even remember our anniversary for the first three years we were married. We don’t plan special nights on special days just because they are special dates. We do special things, however. Some nights I cook something nuts that takes all day, just because I know it will make The Husband happy.

In return, I get random things. At least three times in our marriage he’s sent me flowers. For no good reason, coinciding with nothing (doesn’t sound like a lot, but as far as I know, I’m the only person in my extended family who’s ever received flowers from a partner/husband). More often, he comes home with stuff I really want and can use and have possibly been coveting out loud. Like a new iPhone.

The best thing by far, though, are the trips. At least every couple of years, the husband gets itchy and one day he’ll come home and say, “I got us tickets to Paris in March. Oh, and happy birthday, Merry Christmas and happy anniversary.”

That’s our special time. Special dinners or special presents for no good reason, or special trips. But the dates that these things occur? Not any date in particular.

For me, Christmas has always been about living up to other people’s expectations. Going out on our anniversary is the same thing. We go because my parents or in-laws expect it. They offer free babysitting, assuming we want to celebrate. We aren’t stupid. We take the babysitting and go to see a movie. We just don’t bother with flowers and long expensive dinners until we get to France. Or The Husand walks past the flower shop.

It’s not that I don’t want to celebrate being married to The Husband, or give him gifts (or receive them), but do I have to do it on one appointed day? That’s so…structured. Planned. Expected. I just happen to be blessed with a husband who sees things the same way.

Is it strange that most of my characters see it a lot the same way, too? Well, I don’t think so, but maybe my readers do. So here it is, the explanation. Pay attention, it might be the only one you ever get (you might want to reread that last part, in case you missed it).

My characters do not have “The Best Christmas Ever” or “Our First Anniversary” epilogues. I’m not saying they won’t, ever, but based on past and current experience it’s unlikely. I don’t get all worked up over special dates because they are just dates, therefore I probably won’t have characters doing it.

Instead, you get special vignettes from random times in their lives. Maybe when one of them does something stupid and foolish in an attempt to avoid some awful fate. Maybe when it turns out for the best in the end, because he gets what he really needs once his foolishness is exposed, picked over, fought over, make-up sex is had and apologies are handed out.

That’s pretty much what happens to Jurgen in The Fix.

The only thing about The Fix that makes it a Christmas story is that I’m releasing it at Christmas time (and anniversary time for me too, much to my surprise). But it’s a story that shows a very special moment or two for Nik or Jurgen. There’s hot sex, of course, because that’s always necessary for any special moment.

Now, without further ado, the obligatory blub and excerpt, with a tiny bit of faux-french thrown in for my own amusement:

Le Blurb:

Confident almost to the point of arrogance, Jurgen never worried about his boyfriend leaving him until he overheard Nik telling his best friend he wants to move out of town. That's when the macho cop realizes that maybe asking Nik to move back to tiny Whitetail Rock—where he was tormented when he was younger for being gay and looking different—wasn't Jurgen's most brilliant idea. Now he's on a mission to find a way to fix things so Nik will stay. Which should be no problem because he's good at fixing stuff, right?

Nik isn't sure what he was thinking, moving back to his hometown after graduating with his MFA. Jobs in his field are non-existent and reminders of some of the worst times in his life are abundant. But Jurgen lives inWhitetail Rock, and Nik is willing to put up with a hell of a lot to be with him. Except maybe Jurgen's own efforts to "fix" something that's not broken...

Le Scene Set-up:

I’m not going to share either the special moment or the make-up sex with you here today, of course, because I want you to read the thing so why would I give away the good parts? Instead, I’ve excerpted the beginning of the make-up scene.

Jurgen went out to sleep on the couch, but now it’s the middle of the night and he comes back to bed to be with Nik. Nik has been lying awake for hours, thinking, and he’s sort of over his mad, and maybe ready to figure out what was really going on with Jurgen.

L’excerpt:

“I’m awake,” Nik whispered.

Jurgen froze, leaning over his side of the bed. Then he climbed in and got under the covers. He sighed heavily once he’d settled in. “I forgot my pillow out there,” he whispered to Nik.

For one crazy, completely altruistic moment, Nik thought about going to get it for Jurgen. Then it passed. Instead, he rolled on his side, facing Jurgen. Not too close. He laid a hand on Jurgen’s chest.

Jurgen’s hand came up immediately and grabbed Nik’s, tangling their fingers and pressing Nik’s palm into Jurgen’s T-shirt. Nik’s heart went into overdrive. Jurgen’s beat steadily under his hand.

“Jurgen, just tell me what it is.”

“What?” Jurgen turned his head toward Nik, away from the dim light coming in the window. Nik couldn’t see his face very well, but he could feel Jurgen breathing between them.

“Is it a brain tumor? Lou Gehrig’s disease? What? Just tell me, Jurgen.” Nik squeezed Jurgen’s hand so tight he thought one of his knuckles might pop right out of his skin.

“What are you talking about, Nik?”

“You’re scaring me. You’re acting all…loving and stuff. It’s completely unlike you.”

“I don’t act loving toward you?” Jurgen almost sounded hurt.

“Not like this. You don’t hold my hand or go off tilting at windmills for me.”

Jurgen stared at him in the dark.

“Don Quixote. He thought the windmills were some kind of monster or something, so he’d attack them.”

“So, Miller is my personal windmill?”

“Better than your personal Waterloo.” Nik knew he wouldn’t have to explain Waterloo.

Jurgen sighed and turned his head. Now Nik could see his profile. He had such a sexy nose. “Jurgen, please. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Jurgen shrugged stiffly. His chest shifted and slid under their hands. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Oh. That was so—

Shut up.

“That required you to do something cruel to Miller?” Even if it was incredibly sweet.

“Why do you care so much about how Miller feels?” Jurgen’s voice was angry again that fast.

A-ha. “Why do you sound jealous?”

“I’m not jealous! I’m mad!”

“Uh-huh.” Nik smiled to himself. He pushed up on his elbow, but Jurgen wouldn’t let go of his hand, which made straddling Jurgen’s hips a little awkward.

“What are you doing?” Now he sounded grouchy. In a forced way.

“I’m going to use my masculine wiles to get you to talk to me.” Nik could feel Jurgen under him, between his legs. Soft and warm.

“I am talking to you.” Jurgen let go of Nik’s hand, settling his on Nik’s hips. Already his voice sounded more normal. Slower. Nik rubbed himself once or twice lightly against Jurgen’s groin. Just to get the show on the road. Jurgen’s voice dropped lower. “I can talk this way, too, though.”

You can download The Fix here.

For more information on me or my other writings, check out my website

Every Time a Bell Rings by Missy Welsh

2011-12-17T06:34:00.000-08:00

The Blurb:

Brian dropped everything last year when his mother became ill so he could take care of her until the day she died. People he thought were friends didn’t stick with him and he’s somehow become kind of a recluse without meaning to be. Only Mike, his best friend since they were kids, has stuck by him and is now saving him from homelessness after a fire destroys Brian’s apartment building days before Christmas. Though Mike has to go down South for the holiday, Brian stays in Mike’s apartment with his slightly singed kitten Oreo.

Brian’s only goal is to set his affairs back in order before everything shuts down for the holidays and then make it through those holidays in one piece. He’s lost so much–his only real possession is a photo album of his mom that he risked death to save from the fire–and he’s feeling lost and very alone…until Mike, his hot neighbor Trent, and even little Oreo conspire to give Brian the best Christmas possible and a future that looks a lot brighter.

Where To Buy:

• MLR Press – Link Available December 23, 2011

The Excerpt:

Mike’s apartment building was two floors with four units on the quiet, family-oriented Casterton Avenue. The structure was old and brick with high ceilings and original oak woodwork throughout. I’d always loved the balcony because he had plants all over it. The plants were gone now, but he had replaced them with an abundance of kitschy, lighted Christmas decorations. His electric bill must be outrageous.

He carried the album like the precious cargo it was all the way from the car to the hallway outside his apartment door. The whole neighborhood seemed fast asleep, so it rattled me when the door opposite Mike’s suddenly opened. Then there was this hunk of divinity standing there, and my libido kicked in with a flash of heat that sizzled through me because my every wet dream was embodied in this man.

And I was covered in soot and probably had tear tracks on my face. Not to mention the fact I hadn’t been with a man in over a year. At least the plumbing hadn’t forgotten how to work. That was nice.

“Hey,” he said, his voice deep and scratchy. “Mike told me what happened, man. Glad to see you’re okay.”

“When?” I asked. It was practically morning. Oh wow. Had they been together when Mike got the call from the ER nurse? I stared at him, unable to believe he was involved with his neighbor and hadn’t told me.

“Oh, well.” Mike looked a little sheepish. “I kind of freaked out when they called me. I accidentally woke Trent up while I was trying to get the door locked to leave. He helped.”

Suspicions gone, I mumbled, “I’m really sorry,” and meant it to both of them.

“Jeez, Brian,” Mike said. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“We got through it,” Trent said and smiled as he patted Mike’s shoulder. The gesture and his expression didn’t look like anything more than friendship to me.

“Okay,” I said lamely.

“Oh!” Mike said, making me jerk. “Forgot all my manners! Brian, this is Trent Stewart. Trent, Brian Bailey.”

Trent’s big paw came out to grasp my hand, making mine look delicate. All of me felt delicate around this guy despite the fact we were about the same six-foot height. Probably because he had about fifty pounds of hard muscle on me. I really loved that.

The rumpled, just-woke-up thing worked in his favor too. His dark blond hair stuck up in the back and his face was pink on one side. I tried to keep my eyes above his neck because he wore only a pair of black sweatpants that barely hung onto his slim hips and showed off his rippled abs like a frame. But I was too tired to get any of my body parts to obey me now, and couldn’t resist sliding a glance up the trail of blond past his navel and over the pelt covering the center of his mounded chest. His nipples were pink and peaked, and I had a momentary fantasy of suckling them while I played in all that golden hair. To let the world fall away and give into sensation while wrapped in his arms and—

Oreo dug a few claws into my gut, making me flinch, and Trent dropped my hand.

“Damn,” he chuckled. “That looks like something out of Alien.”

“It’s Oreo.” I fished her out. “My kitten.”

Trent reached over and patted her back. He could’ve palmed her entire body. “Both of you were really lucky.”

I nodded. We were, sure. Maybe tomorrow it would feel that way.

“Look, Mike said he was going out of town tomorrow,” Trent said, brown eyes looking right at me, “so if you need anything, you just come to me.”

I nodded at his sincerity. “Thanks.”

He smiled again. It was a really sweet smile. “Well, I’ll let you go. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He moved back into his apartment and shut the door with one more glance back.

I turned to Mike and found him grinning knowingly at me. “Shut up.”

He giggled, then let us into his place. Whispering, he said, “Did you just pick out your Christmas present?”

Missy Welsh

A Tradition of Being Untraditional by Kari Gregg

2011-12-16T00:01:00.000-08:00

For me, the holidays focus on home, family and traditions -- Christmas cookies, hosing down the house with decorations, carols and exchanging gifts with every man, woman and child who draw breath in the Western hemisphere. It’s comforting. Yeah, you read that right. The holidaze and Christmas insanity are comforting. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas if I didn’t scare the cat out of the tree or bitch about sending Christmas cards to people I haven’t laid eyes on in a decade.

But...as important as traditions are to me, it’s not always about tradition. Not in the regular sense anyway.

My husband works every holiday. Every. Single. One. Well, no, that’s a lie. For some damn reason I’ve never been able to fathom, he always has Thanksgiving off. Every other holiday of the year, though, he’s working. Makes celebrations kinda rough, but we’ve been doing this for twenty years now. I decided very early on that I didn’t want to have big holiday celebrations without my husband so...we...adapted. Birthdays? Are suggestions. Generally speaking, my kids get to choose dinner and pick one present on the actual day of their birth, but otherwise, they’re waiting until Daddy’s next day off for the party. Who says you have to grill out on the 4th of July? The 7th is close enough. Or the 9th. or the 2nd. (Think of all the traffic we avoid!)
The major holidays -- Christmas and Easter -- require special handling, though. On my husband’s days off the week before the holiday, we travel to visit his family. We spend the holiday at home. On my husband’s days off after the holiday, we visit my family.

Which is how we ended up eating our Christmas dinner in mid-January.

No kidding.

While all of you guys will be feasting on Christmas hams and turkeys, me and mine will munch steamed shrimp, rice krispy treats, broccoli in lemon dill sauce (my daughter’s fave) and whatever yummy goodness has come out of my pre-holiday baking binge. (I predict brownies. Lotsa brownies.) When the kids were younger, they wanted corndog and frozen pizza. One year, we had nothing except ravioli and donuts. Our Christmas Day menu is pretty random -- whatever sounds good to us at the time -- but over the past couple years, shrimp has become a somewhat of a staple. I’ll buy it if the midget brigade can find it on sale anyway. Otherwise...we could be eating any and everything. The only rule is that whatever we eat can’t be part of our holiday menu. Flavored popcorn? Sure. Hot roast beef sandwiches? You betcha. You can even have bowls of Cap’n Crunch if it floats your boat. But no mashed potatoes, no stuffing, no deviled eggs and absolutely NO pies. Unless it’s one of those slightly gross pies you can get single serve for under a buck at most convenience stores around here. The kind that have all the goopy filling stuffed inside that makes such a godawful mess? Yeah. Those. You can have those. They don’t meet my criteria of “pie.” Those things fit the parameters of “re-sculpted sugar.”

Whatever, after New Years, when all the holiday madness is done, I’ll be be-bopping around my kitchen, either basting a turkey or glazing a ham (who knows, maybe both). The table -- still dressed in holiday linens -- will be overladen with enough food to keep us for a week (good thing too because I ain’t cooking gain for a while). You guys will be eating pork chops. Or meatloaf. Because it’s just another Wednesday. While I’m bitching on twitter because my sweet potatoes didn’t turn out right. (They’re not supposed to be crunchy...right?)

Our tradition is being a wee bit untraditional.

And it suits us just fine.

Kari Gregg

Trans-Global IT director Connor Witt is a rare and prized anomaly: the
aggression centers in his brain have been suppressed rather than
stimulated by the mutated crops that so recently took over the world’s
food supply. Bewildered by his physical changes and terrified of a world
growing more and more predatory, Connor risks harassment and worse until
Trans-Global CEO David Martin collars Connor to protect him against men
like security consultant Emmett Drake. Men who stalk Connor as sweet, sexy
prey. Men to whom the newly submissive Connor feels irresistibly drawn.

But David can’t be Connor’s master; David’s straight. He promises to find
a worthy man, though. One willing to court and appreciate Connor as more
than just some rich man’s toy.

While the world adapts to the biological disaster and new laws strip away
Connor’s rights, David’s resolve to protect his boy slowly grows into
something more. But can his new desires keep pace with Emmett’s
determination to claim Connor?

One man offers safety; the other is a safer bet. Problem is, Connor’s
never sure which is which. The one thing he does know? He wants them both.

Reader discretion advised. This title contains the following sensitive
themes: dubious consent

Excerpt
Buy Link

Connor re-knotted the uniform tie required for his office at Trans-Global while he waited for the elevator in the lobby, still pleasantly buzzing from the cocktails his friends had pressed on him. He’d earned the long lunch. Work had been a nightmare since the CDC, the FAO and plenty of other alphabets had made their announcements about the genetic engineering disaster last year. First, the crush of investors scrambling to flee agriculture-dependent businesses had stressed Trans-Global’s stable of analysts.

Then symptoms emerged in the general population.

Frustrated investment brokers and technology did not mix.

The increasing aggression that the mutation provoked had taken a steady toll on the analysts -- and the investment firm’s computer equipment. As Director of IT, Connor fixed what they fouled, replaced what they broke and kept his head down.

Way down.

The less attention he drew to himself, the better.

Intense, focused awareness followed him no matter where he went or what he did now -- when he couldn’t hold a challenging stare, every time he yielded ground to the near-constant invasion of his personal space, whenever they touched him. And they always touched him. Fingers rustled his hair. A proprietary palm smoothed the base of his spine when he walked. A heavy hand clasped his shoulder as he showed an analyst how he’d messed up his email. Again.

They were breaking their computers to get to him.

Connor didn’t know what to do.

So when his friends had demanded the extra hour at lunch, he’d caved. He’d needed the break from the hungry stares at the office and saying no to the drinks his friends poured down him hadn’t been an option. Not really.

His friends had grown as predatory as the brokers.

Connor’s nerves were shot.

His stomach knotted when he felt heat at his back, a towering body that edged too close behind him.

Didn’t matter how often one of them moved on him.

It always made him shake.

"The elevator’s arrived. Unless you planned to wait for another?"

His muscles tensed.

God, that voice.

Connor darted a glance behind him and tried not to gulp at the full lips that curved to a sexy smile inches away. So near, Connor only needed to lean for the man’s body to wrap around him, to bring that mouth to his. Part of him wanted to sway against him. The guy was tall, thick with muscle and the confident glitter in his dark eyes promised that there was little he couldn’t handle. Including Connor. Especially Connor.

He’d been fantasizing about that mouth for months.

"Come on, pet." The dark-haired stranger chuckled, his fingers settling at Connor’s waist to nudge him forward. "I’ll take you upstairs where you belong."

Heart thudding, Connor let the man guide him into the elevator. He wedged himself into a corner, though there was plenty of room for the two of them.

"Seventeenth floor, right?"

He jerked his head for a brief nod and kept his gaze glued to the tile floor, unsurprised when the stranger growled a warning to an office worker rushing forward as the doors slid shut, sealing them inside.

Alone.

Jesus, the guy smelled good -- musky aftershave, the wispy scent of soap and underneath it, the earthy aroma of aroused man. Connor’s mouth watered. A wave of lust heated his skin from the tips of his toes to the face he knew must be pink with embarrassment.

"You should wear your collar or your ID bracelet before you go out again. Something that identifies your master." The man crowded him, raising an arm to prop it against the wall next to Connor’s lowered head. "Or have you slipped your leash?"

He swallowed. The shaming desire to press against the stranger's long body churned Connor's gut. He unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "I didn’t sneak away," he mumbled.

Technically true.

He had no one to sneak away from.

"Then he’s a fool for letting you wander." The stranger bent, his chin brushing aside the hair at Connor’s temple. The man sucked in a deep breath. "Christ, you’re beautiful."

Connor trembled.

"He’ll lose you." His finger traced the line of Connor’s jaw. "It’s not safe for you to walk the streets without a master’s protection. I’m tempted to take you myself." He pushed Connor’s chin up, forcing Connor to meet his gaze despite Connor's quiet whimper of protest. "Tell me. Is he careless? Besotted? Or stupid?"

"Mr. Witt?"

Connor’s body sagged, never so relieved at the receptionist’s shocked gasp. Barb had grown possessive of him, in her way. She’d rescue him.

"Connor? Are you okay?"

The body caging his stepped aside. "He’s all right."

No, he wasn’t.

He was turned on, scared and his heart was trying to gallop out of his chest. None of that remotely resembled all right.

He slid bonelessly to the elevator floor.

"Just a lesson for the pet. And David Martin."

Barb hurried forward, alternately screeching at the stranger and clucking over Connor like a mother hen. For once, Connor welcomed the attention. The receptionist’s firm grip on him as she shouldered him upright steadied him and his knees wobbled only a little when she guided him from the elevator.

He could almost breathe.

He jumped when the stranger grabbed his hand. "My card." He shoved a rectangle into Connor's palm. "If David Martin is half the man I believe he is, he’ll contact my firm to protect you immediately and if not..." The man arched an eyebrow. "My personal number’s on the back. Don’t let the other wolves have you, sweetheart. Come to me."