Bring It Back(list) ~ Old Sins, Long Shadows by PG Forte

 

OLD SINS, LONG SHADOWS
Children of Night, Book 2
by PG Forte
PNR, vampires, Halloween

Buy Links: https://entangledpublishing.com/books/old-sins-long-shadows

Living forever is hard. Loving forever? Impossible. 

 Of all the mistakes Conrad Quintano has made, driving Damian away is the one that haunts him the most. He hates the fact that he's hurt the man he loves more than anything. For the sake of the twins, though, Conrad and Damian parent as a united front, a challenge that grows more and more difficult with each passing year. And with Conrad in his weakened state after his kidnapping, it grows more difficult than ever to be around the one man he can't have. 

 But an old enemy's mission to create a dangerous new breed of vampire threatens the twins' lives, and it's now more important than ever that the estranged lovers put the past behind them, or everything they hold dear might be ripped apart.

Here's a Halloween Party excerpt from Old Sins, Long Shadows. I  love the idea of vampires throwing a costume party on Halloween--so much that I put one in the first Children of Night book (In the Dark) as well. 

In fact, now that I think about it, Going Back to Find You features vampires with plans to crash a Halloween party as well. And, who knows? I haven't wrapped the series up yet, there may be more. 

EXCERPT:

As the guest of honor and the son of the house it seemed everyone present was eager to make [Marc's] acquaintance or get to know him better. He was not averse to either. Especially not while faint traces of the unusual power he’d tasted the previous evening still lingered in his system. He was hungry for more and anxious to meet anyone who might help him touch it again—like the woman approaching him now, for example. 

She seemed a likely prospect. Tall and fair, strikingly good-looking, she carried an aura of power that was palpable even from halfway across the room. The crush of people seemed to part before her purely on instinct, opening a path that led her directly to the dais. Directly to Marc. 

He smiled in greeting. “Good evening. Welcome to my party.” 

“Your party?” One elegant brow arced higher, two perfectly painted lips pursed into a petulant little moue. “Is it really? Well now, that is a surprise. Is Conrad no longer in residence?” 

“Oh, no, he’s here.” Marc scanned the room without finding him. “Although I’m not sure where he’s gone to, at the moment. I only meant that I’m the one he’s throwing the party for. Me and my sister, that is. I’m Marc, by the way.” He held out his hand. 

Lavender-blue eyes studied him curiously. “Georgia,” the woman replied, giving him her hand after a brief pause. “So, tell me, Marc, what is it you and your sister have done to merit being honored with so elaborate a fête? And on Halloween, of all days. I really can’t imagine what’s come over Conrad, all of a sudden. Why, I recall when the mere suggestion of such a thing would have been enough to enrage him.”

 “Really?” Marc grinned. “We didn’t do anything special. I think it was Damian’s idea. It’s just that today’s our birthday, you see.” 

“Your…birthday?” Georgia stared at him, lips curling into an expression of faint distaste. “Oh, surely not? You can’t mean to tell me someone had the incredibly bad taste to turn you actually on Halloween? Who was it? Not Conrad, I know. I can hardly believe even Damian would be capable of anything so tacky.” 

“Tacky?” Marc looked at her in surprise. 

“Well, clichéd, then. At the very least. I mean to say, vampires? Halloween?” 

Marc shrugged. “I guess I never thought of it that way before. But, that’s still not what I meant. Today’s our actual birthday—the day we were born.” 

“Your actual birthday,” Georgia repeated, the look of distaste growing stronger. “I see. Well, that does make a difference, doesn’t it? And you’ve chosen to celebrate that, have you? My, how very…very…quaint.”

And for more great books that you might have missed the first time around, check out author Allie Ritch's Reunion post, highlighting books from three publishers that, sadly, are no more. Liquid Silver Books, Loose Id, and Samhain. https://allieritch.wordpress.com/2021/10/27/book-reunion/

Bring It Back(list) with PG Forte

I don’t remember what initially prompted me to write Edge of Heaven—the sexy, m/m story of two angels trapped in limbo. I don’t write a lot of stories in first person, but when I do most of the time what pulls me in is the character’s voice. And Edge (the main character) was no different. Edge...has issues. An “edge” if you will. He’s moody and irreverent. He has secrets, and hang-ups, and a whole closet-full of flaws—most of which he’s in denial about. All of which made him a fabulous character to write. So, I guess, as with most of my books, I wrote it to learn more about the story; to figure out who this nutty guy was, and what he wanted....beyond sex with his angel-in-training, of course. That part was pretty obvious.

One thing I never fell in love with was the cover. So when I got the chance to self-pub the paperback version, I jumped at the chance to change it. It’s still a work in progress, however. I'm still not sure it does the story--or Edge--justice.

Welcome to the afterlife, where men are men and the angels are fallen.

It was a reckless act of passion that ended Edge’s life and left him in Limbo -- literally. Now, he’s stuck here. While most of the other angels-in-training move quickly up the celestial ladder, Edge knows it can never be that simple for him. He’s dealing with issues that are a lot more complicated than a simple lack of closure.

While Edge doesn’t know for sure what it will take to get him into Heaven, there is one thing he’s certain won’t help -- his latest assignment guiding angel-baby Matteo Matinucci while the newbie find his wings.

But twenty-something Mattie -- sexy, beautiful, recently departed, and openly gay -- could turn out to be the answer to all of Edge’s prayers, as well as the fulfillment of all his fantasies, even the hot, sweaty, secret ones he’s never confided to anyone. And by helping to send Mattie to Heaven, Edge just might end up saving both their souls.

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Loose Id

EXCERPT:

“Is this a bad time?” Matteo asks, showing up on my beach unannounced. He’s gazing at me a little uncertainly, and I guess he’s responding to the look of shock on my face. At least I hope I look shocked. It’d beat looking panicked, disgusted, and dismayed, which is closer to how I’m really feeling. New as he is, there’s no way he should have been able to follow me here, so hell yes, it’s a bad time!

“Time doesn’t really exist,” I say, cleverly sidestepping the question. “And good and bad—those are also illusions.”

“I see.” Matt’s brow crinkles up. He looks around curiously. “So what is this place, anyway, Hindu hell?”

“What? Hell? No, it’s not hell, and…why Hindu?”

“Okay, Buddhist maybe. Same basic philosophy, isn’t it? Nothing you see is real. It’s all illusion, and everything’s the same: good and bad, pleasure and pain, action and inaction, blue and green.”

I blink at that last part. Now he’s got my attention. He’s nuts, but he’s got my attention. “Uh…blue and green?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Well, yeah, you know, ’cause that’s how the world looks, right? From a distance?”

I don’t want to do it, but I can’t help laughing. “Cute, pal. But I’m pretty sure the Divine Miss M’s no Buddhist.”

Matteo grins. “My mistake, then.” He points at the log on which I’m sitting. “May I?”

I’d like to say no, but I’d have to have a reason to do that. A good reason I mean, one I’d be willing to admit to. Which I don’t. “Sure. Help yourself.”

It’s a big log, practically a whole tree. There’s plenty of room for us both. At least that’s what I tell myself. Still, it’s an effort to keep from moving away. I want to slide over to the very end to make sure he doesn’t sit right next to me. Which he does. Big surprise, huh? I don’t want to sound like a wuss or anything, but the guy’s clearly got no sense of personal boundaries. He’s sitting so close to me our shoulders are practically touching. I can feel the heat rising from his skin. It’s sensuous, tempting. I have to fight the urge to lean into it.

“So seriously, what is this place?” he asks, surveying the scenery.

I’m kind of wondering about that myself. I mean, I know what I see when I look around me, but I also know it’s a reflection of my own thoughts. None of it is actually real. Does Matteo see what I see? Or is he seeing something else? “What does it look like to you?”

He glances around again. “Somewhere along the West Coast would be my guess. Northern California, Pacific Northwest, something like that.”

“Yeah, that’s how it looks to me too.” I stare out at the ocean. Sunlight dances on the waves. A couple of gulls fly by. Who’s to say what’s real, anyhow? “This is the beach I used to go to as a kid.” I point at the rocky shore. “There are tide pools between those rocks. Man, I used to love messing around down there. And over that way”—I turn and point over his shoulder to that place where the beach ends in a fall of boulders and water laps at the base of the cliff—“is the entrance to a cave. It’s hard to find. You can only reach it at low tide. Sometimes not even then.”

“It seems like all of the best things in life are like that, aren’t they?” His voice is low, suggestive. I feel it in the pit of my stomach.

“Like what?”

“Hard to get.” He’s staring right at me. Our faces are just inches apart. I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes and the fine gold stubble that lines his jaw. My fingers are tingling. It’s like I can already feel the sandpapery texture of his cheek sliding against my open palm. His lips are full, slightly parted. They look soft. They look inviting.

I put my hand in the center of his chest and push. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, lips twitching into a tiny smile. “I swear I’m clean. No drugs, no diseases. Or does that even matter here?”

I shake my head. “It’s none of my concern. And it’s also not what I’m talking about.” My hand is still pressed against his heart. He seems not to mind. I do, but I just can’t seem to move it away. “Tell me how you died.”

And there goes his smile, disappearing in a red-hot instant. He straightens—away from me, away from my hand—and looks out at the water once more. “It was so stupid, you know? So totally senseless.”

Oh crap. There’s an unmistakable tinge of anger in his voice. Eerily familiar, it puts all my nerves on alert. My heart starts pounding. My jaw gets tight. I don’t want to ask it, but it’s my job. I have to know. “What did you do?”

Two Truths and a Lie -- New Release and Excerpt

Two Truths and a Lie releases tomorrow. It's a little bittersweet for me. I'm not used to having an entire series release so quickly--book one only came out a month ago--and it was so much fun writing these characters--and revisiting my Jersey Shore days--that I'm sad to see it end.

I suspect there will be more Atlas Beach stories in the future, but for now the trilogy is complete.

Blurb:

All work and no play has been the story of Brenda Donovan’s life for the past few months. Concerned about the future of her family’s inn, she’s been searching for a buyer for the business—without her cousins finding out what she’s up to. She has no time for relationships. But pretending to date sexy Max Murphy, the hotel scout who’s there to assess the property? That’s totally doable. Especially when games, role-playing, and light bondage are included in the package. Falling in love was never supposed to be part of their deal, however, and now her heart’s in play.

Max has no problem with hiding his true identity from Brenda’s cousins. But are they the only ones he’s deceiving? When all is finally revealed will the cousins lose the Wild Geese Inn? Or will they add another member to their growing family?

Loose Id: http://www.loose-id.com/games-we-play-3-two-truths-and-a-lie.html

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Two-Truths-Games-Play-Book-ebook/dp/B06XKHJPDX

Excerpt:

After dinner, as they were leaving the dining room, Max paused in the entryway. “So I’ve been hearing about this famous kissing stone of yours. Since we’re ‘dating’ now, shouldn’t we uphold tradition?”

That damn stone. Brenda sidestepped quickly to avoid it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m saying that I’d like to kiss you.” He glanced at the floor. “Isn’t this where we’re supposed to stand? Isn’t the tradition that you kiss your lover here if you want the two of you to be together forever?”

“We’re not lovers.”

Smiling, he reached for her hand. “I’m hoping that’s about to change.”

So was she. She didn’t try and stop him as he twined his fingers with hers, but when he tried to pull her close, she balked. Nope. Not happening. “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, Max. But you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

Max slanted her a skeptical look. “It’s your family’s legend, isn’t it? Won’t it look strange if you don’t kiss me?”

“No, actually. It would look much stranger if I did. It might be my family’s legend, but anyone who knows anything about me knows I don’t believe in that nonsense.  Never have.”

“Never?” he asked, an unexpected note of challenge in his voice. “Not even when you were younger?”

“Oh, well.” Brenda shrugged dismissively. “Sure. I believed in Santa Claus once too.”

“Then you grew up and ‘put away childish things’ as they say?”

“Exactly.”

“Ah, c’mon. You’re not really that cynical, are you?”

“How is that cynical? I’m just being an adult.”

“Adulting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Brenda was starting to get annoyed. “Maybe not. But someone has to do it.”

“But not all the time, right? Don’t you ever want to take a break from it all?”

Do I? “You have no idea how much.”

“Why don’t we play a game? Just for one night.”

“What kind of game?” she asked, intrigued despite herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d played anything. Maybe that was part of her problem?

“Let’s make believe we’re lovers who are carrying on a secret affair. We’re here for the week, we’ve just had dinner, and now we’re on our way back to our room to make love.”

He was here for the week. They had just had dinner. Two truths. Brenda frowned. That weird sensation of having been here and done this all before was back, stronger than ever. Was this still just part of their cover story? “You know my cousins are never going to believe something like that, right? We only just met.”

“This has nothing to do with your cousins. This would just be for us. Haven’t you ever role-played?”

“Not really, no.”

“No,” Max repeated. His smile had a bitter edge. “No, I guess not. You’ve probably never felt the need to be anyone but yourself your whole life.”

She really hadn’t. At the moment, however, she was kind of liking the idea. If she were someone else, maybe she wouldn’t feel so weighted down by responsibility.  She wouldn’t have to calculate the consequences of every action, or worry how things would end. She could have fun. She was a little surprised at how unexpectedly exciting that seemed. When had her life become so endlessly dreary? “So how would something like that start?”

Max smiled. “Like this, I think.”

He tugged on their joined hands, used his other hand to cup the back of her neck, and pulled her close. This time she let him.

It’s just a rock, Brenda reminded herself. Just a random block of inert minerals. It’s no different from the rest of the floor. There’s no such thing as magic—no spells, no curses, no fucking enchantments. I’m only doing this to prove to myself that kissing him means nothing. Absolutely nothing.

All the same, she could feel herself trembling as he slanted his mouth over hers, as though an icy-cold wind had swept over her. And when their lips touched, she was rocked by something. A shock of recognition. A feeling of completion. Total nonsense, she was sure; just the product of her overactive imagination. But if the sharp intake of his breath was anything to go by, it had just hit them both. What was that anyway? The touch of a ghostly hand? A harbinger of destiny? An echo from the past? Or something completely prosaic—like the draft from an open door?

Her money was on the door. But all the same, fear had her on the verge of pulling away until Max wrapped an arm around her waist. He held her in place, blocking her flight. He cradled her skull as he deepened the kiss, and she was lost. Nothing had ever felt this right. She slid her arms around his waist and kissed him back, and it didn’t even matter where they were.

On the stone, in the restaurant, with a dozen people or more watching. Are you fucking kidding me?

Maybe there was something special about the stupid stone. Because she’d only ever felt like this once before—the last time she’d kissed someone here.

Copyright © PG Forte

Truth or Dare -- New Release and Excerpt

It's been awhile since I've had the first book in a new series release. Games We Play consists of three books set in and around a haunted hotel in Atlas Beach, New Jersey. The Wild Geese Inn is owned and run by three cousins--and, no, those aren't the cousins on the cover of Truth or Dare! 

Each cousin gets his or her own book. Truth or Dare is Gwyneth's story. Here's a peek: 

The door to the reception desk showed no signs of ever having been stuck by the time Sheila arrived to take over for Gwyn. Of course it didn’t, Gwyn thought sourly. It had never stuck before and probably never would again. What she should have learned growing up here was not to take anything she heard or saw—or felt, or imagined—at face value.

A locked door was not always a locked door. And the things a guy might say when he wanted something from you often bore no relationship to actual fact. But for the hotel’s ghosts to have betrayed her… Well, she hadn’t been expecting that.

“Stupid, interfering haunts,” Gwyn muttered as she headed down the darkened service corridor toward the back stairway. “If you’re not going to help me, then leave me alone.”

She refused to be charmed by the playful breeze that scudded about the hallway carrying the echo of voices. And she didn’t even bother trying to make sense of what they were saying. Gwyn never could catch more than a couple of words at the best of times. Usually, she couldn’t even tell if the speaker was male or female, or what language was being spoken. But even though she ignored them, the conversation continued unabated, following her all the way up to her room, at the top of the tower, just under the eaves.

The patterned silk lampshade bathed the room in a warm, rosy glow when she switched on the light, but the chill in the air had her shivering as she crossed the floor to plug in the space heater she kept by her bed—or rather, the antique divan she used in place of a bed. It was hardly the best room in the house, although it had, by far, the best view of the ocean. Luckily for Gwyn, it was too small, too inconvenient, and a little too uncomfortable to rent out as a guest room. It was too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter; it was also lacking several amenities most guests would consider indispensable—like a closet and an en suite bath. But Gwyn loved it just the same.

Even with the room’s supposed deficiencies, it was her special place. When she’d played here as a child, she always pretended she was a princess imprisoned in a tower, looking down at her kingdom while she waited for her knights to arrive and help her free herself. Funny how there always had been two knights. She’d forgotten that. No wonder it had been so easy for Berke and Cam to convince her to get a little too adventurous, back in the day.

As she rifled through dresses on the garment rack that functioned as her closet, familiar, measured footsteps climbed the stairs to the tower. The creak of a door opening and closing had the hair standing up on her neck, just as it always did, but she didn’t bother turning. She knew there was nobody physically present. All the same, she addressed her unseen visitor. “Well, since you’re so in favor of this, what do you think?” She gestured at the rack of clothing. “Which one should I wear?”

Why she was even bothering to change her clothes was anyone’s guess. She should just go as she was. This wasn’t a date, and she certainly wasn’t trying to impress anyone. In fact, the last thing she wanted was for Berke or Cam to get the stupid idea that she still cared for either one of them. Because she didn’t. In fact, she cared so very little, she was seriously thinking of calling the whole thing off. She’d phone the front desk and leave a message to let them know she’d changed her mind…and then she’d be stuck hiding out for the next three days. Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

Outside, the wind moaned louder. A ripple of motion set the dresses swaying on the rack, as though unseen hands were shifting the hangers. Gwyn paused in her perusal when a voice that may or may not have originated in her head said, “That one.”

Gwyn’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

The lights flickered as though in answer.

Well, all right then. Gwyn studied the dress in question, feeling more than a little dubious. It was considerably sexier than she felt right now. But maybe fake it till you make it was the way to go? After all, if she was really going through with this, she might as well do it in style.

“All right, fine,” she addressed the empty air. “Have it your way. Now, clear out and let me get dressed.”

Gwyn carried her dress over to the dressing area she’d set up behind a folding screen. When asked why she felt the need to dress and undress behind a screen in a room she didn’t share with anyone else, she’d insisted it was because she didn’t want to draw the curtains and shut out the view. Never mind that the view currently on tap was night sky and snowstorm, or that she was too high up, in any event, for anyone other than a skydiver to look in. Or that the only person who’d ever really asked was Brenda. They both knew Bren didn’t want to hear the truth anyway.

http://www.loose-id.com/games-we-play-truth-or-dare.html

What's chocolate cake got to do with it?

So apparently today is National Chocolate Cake Day. Yes, I know. Who makes this stuff up? And I figure that means a link to a killer chocolate cake recipe is an absolute necessity for this post. However I also have a new trilogy coming out next month and I really wanted to talk about. After giving the matter some thought, however, I found a way to link the two into one semi-coherent post. 

First the series.

Gwyn Carmichael, Luke Kelly and Brenda Donovan are three cousins who have just inherited their family’s business—The Wild Geese Inn, located in Atlas Beach, New Jersey—following the death of their maternal grandmother, Moira Gallagher. Atlas Beach is fictitious, but it was fun (and more than a little trippy) to go back to my roots and write books set in my original home state of New Jersey. 

Each book in the Games We Play series focuses on one of the cousins as they attempt to manage their love lives and their inheritance—all of which is complicated by a variety of supernatural forces. But I’ll let them tell you about that...

* * * *

[Brenda] eyed the others uncertainly. “So you really want to do this, huh?”

“Hell, yes, I want to do this,” Luke assured her. “I’ve always wanted my own bar, even if it is haunted.”

“Don’t be silly,” Gwyn told him. “The bar’s not haunted.”

“Of course it’s not!” Brenda agreed.

“It’s the hotel that’s haunted,” Gwyn continued. “The bar is infest—”

“Stop that,” Brenda interrupted angrily. “That’s what I started to say before. If you really want to do this, there are conditions. We have to stop with all the hocus-pocus.”

“For example?” Gwyn asked.

“Number one,” Brenda said, “the hotel is not haunted. It’s an old building, Gwyn. I know you love it. But you have to admit it’s not in the best of shape. The walls are too thin, the stairs creak, the pipes make noises, the lights flicker, it’s drafty—that’s all normal. And maybe you think it sounds romantic, but when you tell our guests that the hotel is haunted—”

“Which it is.”

“—you’re just calling attention to the hotel’s deficiencies.”

“What else?” Luke asked, jumping in before the girls got into it. Too much of his childhood had been spent watching the two of them fight and make up.

“Number two. There is no boggart in the bar.”

“Okay, stop,” he said, starting to get annoyed himself. “Now you’re going too far. You don’t know that for a fact.”

Brenda shook her head. “C’mon, Luke. How’s that even make sense? It’s an Irish bar; what would a mischief-making Scottish spirit even be doing there?”

Luke grinned. “Making mischief. Obviously. Besides, it’s people they attach themselves to, I think. They’re family spirits, like the bean sidhe. Who’s to say there’s no Scotch-Irish somewhere in our family mix? There’s some funny stuff goes on in that bar, Bren. I’ve seen it.”

Brenda nodded. “I’m sure there is. Do you know why people go to a bar in the first place?”

“To have a drink?” Gwyn suggested.

“Exactly. And what happens when people have a few too many drinks?”

“We make money?”

“They get clumsy. They trip over their own feet. Sometimes they fall down. They misplace things—their keys, their wallets, their phones.”

“Their clothes?” Gwyn smiled at her cousin. Brenda ignored her.

“They make stupid jokes and play stupid pranks and generally act—”

“Stupidly?” Luke supplied.

“And that’s all there is to it. There’s no supernatural troublemaker behind it. The only spirits in that bar are the ones that come in bottles.”

Gwyn gasped. “There’s a genie there now too?”

This time Brenda glared at her.

Luke sighed. “Is there a number three?”

“Yes.” Brenda pointed toward the restaurant’s dining room. “You know that odd-colored stone floor tile in the entryway?”

Luke and Gwyn exchanged a smile. “You mean the Blarney Stone?” they asked innocently.

Brenda glared. “No, I don’t mean the Blarney Stone,” she repeated mockingly. “For fuck’s sake, guys. The Blarney Stone is right where it’s always been. In Blarney Castle. It’s part of the friggin’ wall. No one chipped it out and shipped it across the ocean.”

“Okay, fine,” Gwyn said. “I’ll give you that one. I always thought that was crazy. What would the Lia Fiál be doing here?”

“The what now?” Luke asked.

“The Lia Fiál,” Gwyn repeated. “The Stone of Destiny? That’s what they used to call it.”

“Oh. Well, then that actually does make sense, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“That business about how if you kiss your true love while standing on the stone you’re destined to be together. Destined—get it?”

“Yes, Luke.” Gwyn rolled her eyes. “We get it. It’s still crazy.”

“Number four,” Brenda continued without waiting for the others. “There is no family curse.”

Luke and Gwyn looked at her in pained surprise. “Well, of course there isn’t,” Luke said. “You mean the ‘nothing will prosper the family Walsh in Atlas Beach until the Wild Geese return and are reunited with their loved ones’ nonsense? Yeah, that’s bullshit.”

* * * *

Each story in the series is linked to a specific holiday—which, in turn, corresponds to their release dates. Truth or Dare releases Valentine’s Day (February 14th). Never Have I Ever comes out on  Mardi Gras—February 28th this year. And Two Truths and a Lie  debuts on March 14th, just in time for St Patrick’s Day.

That St Patrick’s Day release is especially fitting given that much of the action in the trilogy takes place in the inn’s Irish bar and (as you've probably figured out by now) the Donovan-Kelly-Carmichael clan is Irish American.

So what does all of this have to do with chocolate cake, you ask? THIS:

http://loveswah.com/2015/03/guinness-layer-cake-with-whiskey-ganache-and-baileys-icing/

Yes, that’s right. A chocolate Guinness cake with an Irish Whiskey ganache and a Baileys Irish Cream icing. BOOM. Because the only thing better than a chocolate cake is a chocolate cake made with Guinness, whiskey, and Baileys. Am I right?

Wait...no bacon? What’s up with that?

Anyway, this cake is literally the bomb—the Irish Car Bomb, that is.  Oh, don’t groan at the pun; you know you were thinking the same thing. 

Slainte!

When is a Beach Not a Beach?

When is a beach not a beach? When it's a projection of your thoughts! Or at least that's how it works out in my M/M fantasy story, Edge of Heaven. My main characters are angels (or angels in training, if you like) stuck in Limbo, a place where what you see is what you get...and what you think about is what you see. 

Edge, my viewpoint character (and perpetually bad-tempered angel trainer) has been in Limbo a long, long time--mostly due to the fact that he's really good at ignoring his own issues, but his newest assignment is bringing those issues front and center. In this scene, Edge gets to know his newest trainee a little bit better...

“Is this a bad time?” Matteo asks, showing up on my beach unannounced. He’s gazing at me a little uncertainly, and I guess he’s responding to the look of shock on my face. At least I hope I look shocked. It’d beat looking panicked, disgusted, and dismayed, which is closer to how I’m really feeling. New as he is, there’s no way he should have been able to follow me here, so hell yes, it’s a bad time!

“Time doesn’t really exist,” I say, cleverly sidestepping the question. “And good and bad—those are also illusions.”

“I see.” Matt’s brow crinkles up. He looks around curiously. “So what is this place, anyway, Hindu hell?”

“What? Hell? No, it’s not hell, and…why Hindu?”

“Okay, Buddhist maybe. Same basic philosophy, isn’t it? Nothing you see is real. It’s all illusion, and everything’s the same: good and bad, pleasure and pain, action and inaction, blue and green.”

I blink at that last part. Now he’s got my attention. He’s nuts, but he’s got my attention. “Uh…blue and green?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Well, yeah, you know, ’cause that’s how the world looks, right? From a distance?”

I don’t want to do it, but I can’t help laughing. “Cute, pal. But I’m pretty sure the Divine Miss M’s no Buddhist.”

Matteo grins. “My mistake, then.” He points at the log on which I’m sitting. “May I?”

I’d like to say no, but I’d have to have a reason to do that. A good reason I mean, one I’d be willing to admit to. Which I don’t. “Sure. Help yourself.”

It’s a big log, practically a whole tree. There’s plenty of room for us both. At least that’s what I tell myself. Still, it’s an effort to keep from moving away. I want to slide over to the very end to make sure he doesn’t sit right next to me. Which he does. Big surprise, huh? I don’t want to sound like a wuss or anything, but the guy’s clearly got no sense of personal boundaries. He’s sitting so close to me our shoulders are practically touching. I can feel the heat rising from his skin. It’s sensuous, tempting. I have to fight the urge to lean into it.

“So seriously, what is this place?” he asks, surveying the scenery.

I’m kind of wondering about that myself. I mean, I know what I see when I look around me, but I also know it’s a reflection of my own thoughts. None of it is actually real. Does Matteo see what I see? Or is he seeing something else? “What does it look like to you?”

He glances around again. “Somewhere along the West Coast would be my guess. Northern California, Pacific Northwest, something like that.”

“Yeah, that’s how it looks to me too.” I stare out at the ocean. Sunlight dances on the waves. A couple of gulls fly by. Who’s to say what’s real, anyhow? “This is the beach I used to go to as a kid.” 

I point at the rocky shore. “There are tide pools between those rocks. Man, I used to love messing around down there. And over that way”—I turn and point over his shoulder to that place where the beach ends in a fall of boulders and water laps at the base of the cliff—“is the entrance to a cave. It’s hard to find. You can only reach it at low tide. Sometimes not even then.”

“It seems like all of the best things in life are like that, aren’t they?” His voice is low, suggestive. I feel it in the pit of my stomach.

“Like what?”

“Hard to get.” He’s staring right at me. Our faces are just inches apart. I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes and the fine gold stubble that lines his jaw. My fingers are tingling. It’s like I can already feel the sandpapery texture of his cheek sliding against my open palm. His lips are full, slightly parted. They look soft. They look inviting.

I put my hand in the center of his chest and push. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, lips twitching into a tiny smile. “I swear I’m clean. No drugs, no diseases. Or does that even matter here?”

I shake my head. “It’s none of my concern. And it’s also not what I’m talking about.” My hand is still pressed against his heart. He seems not to mind. I do, but I just can’t seem to move it away. “Tell me how you died.”

And there goes his smile, disappearing in a red-hot instant. He straightens—away from me, away from my hand—and looks out at the water once more. “It was so stupid, you know? So totally senseless.”

Oh crap. There’s an unmistakable tinge of anger in his voice. Eerily familiar, it puts all my nerves on alert. My heart starts pounding. My jaw gets tight. I don’t want to ask it, but it’s my job. I have to know. “What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it was. So tell me about it.”

“Damn car came out of nowhere.”

I blink in surprise. “Car?” Okay, not what I was thinking, then.

Matteo nods. “I was out for my morning run along the beach in Santa Monica. Only it was Saturday and I’d slept in, so it was later in the day than I generally go. On my way back, I noticed the stores along the Promenade were open—which they usually aren’t when I pass them. There was this kiosk with the cutest baby mobile hanging up in it. My best friend and her partner are trying for a baby. It’s been a couple of months, and it hasn’t happened yet. It will, though, you know? I mean, they’ve done all the tests, and there’s no reason it shouldn’t. I wanted to give them something to help keep their spirits up, and this mobile was so perfect I couldn’t resist. I just had to have it. So I crossed the street, and…I was waiting while the sales clerk wrapped it, when it happened.”

“When what happened? I thought you were killed by a car?”

“I was. Driver must have had a heart attack or something. Car jumped the curb and plowed right into us. It was my bad luck that I had my back to it at the time. If I’d had a little more warning, I might have had a chance to get out of the way.”

“You were hit by a car while you were shopping.” It’s not really a question—I’m just trying to wrap my mind around the absurdity of the idea. “While you were buying a gift for your friend’s baby.”

“Yeah. Can you believe it? And now…I’m never even going to see the kid, never know if it’s a boy or a girl or what they name it, who it looks like…”

I nod, but I’m not really listening. To be honest, I’m feeling a little bit jealous. My death was stupid and senseless and largely accidental too. I left stuff unfinished. I left people behind. But there’s one big difference. My death was my own damn fault.

*****

Welcome to the afterlife, where men are men and the angels are fallen.

It was a reckless act of passion that ended Edge’s life and left him in Limbo—literally. Now, he’s stuck here. While most of the other angels-in-training move quickly up the celestial ladder, Edge knows it can never be that simple for him. He’s dealing with issues that are a lot more complicated than a simple lack of closure.

While Edge doesn’t know for sure what it will take to get him into Heaven, there is one thing he’s certain won’t help – his latest assignment guiding angel-baby Matteo Matinucci while the newbie find his wings.

But twenty-something Mattie—sexy, beautiful, recently departed, and openly gay—could turn out to be the answer to all of Edge’s prayers, as well as the fulfillment of all his fantasies, even the hot, sweaty, secret ones he’s never confided to anyone. And by helping to send Mattie to Heaven, Edge just might end up saving both their souls.

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Happy Birthday Carrma!

I think it's safe to say, that were it not for my girl Carrma, my most recent books wouldn't have been written. On April 3rd, she turned 27 years old (that's 81 in horse years.) Lipizzans are a fairly long-lived breed, so she'll be around for a while yet. I don't ride her much (I don't have a saddle, anyway.) Mostly, we use the round pen for a little longeing (which basically means she trots and canters while I wave a whip around) or, if it's empty, I let her loose in the fenced jump arena where she can go for a good gallop. Then we go out for some grass, with the added bonus that since she's not a horse that's easily spooked, I can pretty much just drape the halter over her neck and let her wander around to her favorite nibbling spots.

And in celebration of Carrma's birthday, my birthday (at the end of March) and the upcoming release of Passage on 4/29 from Loose Id (http://www.loose-id.com), I'll give a e-copy of the first two books in the series, Capriole and Levade, to a lucky commenter. Please leave a method of contact in your comment, and I'll pick a winner on Monday, 4/14!

And, as Carrma sez, let the good times roll (and all the better if it's in the mud.)

 

Hi ho Carrma, Awaaaaaay!!!

Fall has finally made it to Southern Arizona. Which means it'll be about two or three weeks of lovely temperatures before it gets darn cold. (Yes, it gets below freezing here in the desert. It will get near zero, though rarely. Let me tell you about the burst pipes and frozen, dying trees...)

So, it being a pleasant morning, I figured it was time to go for a ride. I hadn't been on my horse for probably a couple of months. Got the bridle. Got the whip. (I don't smack her with it, it's more of a guidance tool.) Took Carrma into the round pen and put the bridle on. Lick chew, lick chew, which means she's happy. I don't have a saddle or bareback pad, so we get to ride with her nekkid.

This is how it went:

1. Park horse by mounting block.
2. Step on mounting block, gather reins.
3. Horse moves.
4. Try not to fall off mounting block while going to wrangle horse.
5. Use whip to try and get across, "NO, DON'T MOVE!"
6. Repeat steps 1-5.

Horse: 20. Human: 1/2

See, I managed to get a leg partway over (thank goodness she's a short horse, only 14.2 hands) and Carrma walked away. Having an off-balance monkey on her back made her go faster, so I bailed. Fell on the ground, but not hard enough to bruise. Carrma looks back. Lick chew, lick chew.

Carrma has her quirks. Being a former broodmare, she's bossy. She never was ridden much, and while she has the basics, the finer points need some improvement. (And, admittedly, so does her non-horsey Human.) But Carrma is not an easily spooked horse; she won't run just to be a pest. If she got loose, she'd go to the nearest patch of grass and stop to eat. If she doesn't do something I want her to, it's because I'm not asking right or not listening to what she's trying to tell me. She's a smart pony, and generally when we're in the round pen she'll follow me around, which is great until I want her to stand still. It just took time and patince, but she figured out what I was trying to do, because:

Round 2:
1. Stand on mounting block.
2. Carrma circles around with minimal prompting
3. Get horse parked in front of mounting block.
4. Repeat steps 1-3 until, finally, SUCCESS!

Horse: 5. Human: 1.

And that 1 is all that counts. Then it was VROOM around the round pen until she got used to carrying me and proved that, yes, she would go where I wanted her to even if she protested a bit, and then we went Out to wander around the barn property. We got to the arena, and VROOM, trot, trot, trot with me bouncing along like a sack of flour. We didn't do much of that, because I am chicken (nekkid horses are a bit slippery) and our steering is not good enough that I trust her to just trot around the arena, which is a large gravel area with no fence, and not go zooming out to the nearest patch of grass.

And because she wanted to go ZOOOM I let her loose in the jump arena,, which is fenced, and off she went to race around, looking good for a 26-year-old mare.

But she was happy, and she got her apple, which had to be shared with her three nosy neighbors. Then big yawns, which means she's relaxed and feeling good after her exercise.

Anyway. Adventures in horse-dom, brought to you by the fact that my e-book LEVADE will be out in paperback here shortly, and Carrma's got a cameo in it, so, you know you want to buy it...

Evey Brett

Eliana: Pain and Pleasure

Take an extra 10% off Eliana this week at Loose Id!

While my new book, Eliana, is set in the same world as my previous books (and features a character from Levade), there are no horses in this book. My mare Carrma is somewhat displeased, but I have mollified her by taking her lots of apples.

Thinking back to the inspiration for this book, Eliana whas a character I had created for an ill-fated sequel to my first demon book, Demon's Dance. She was a dominant, no-nonsense kind of woman who knew both how to inflict pain and how to help others heal from it. I didn't want to give her up and started thinking about how she might have gotten involved with the Wardens--a group of men and women dedicated to hunting incubi and aiding their sexually promiscuous offspring. And, more importantly, why and how she became a dominant.

In one way, this book is Eliana's origin story, but  after finishing Levade I realized how Eliana could mesh with Konstantin, one of the characters introduced in that book, and that became an interesting story in itself--how does the son of a crazed Nazi geneticist become a healer as well as a submissive, and what lasting effect will that have on him?

So despite the title, Eliana isn't just about Eliana. There's Kon, and his male dominant, Dane, and all sorts of learning and growing and healing for all three.

Oh, and sex. Did I mention there's lots of sex?

Cover art by the fabulous Anne Cain.

Also--now available from Amazon and Barnes and Noble: Love, lust and Lipizzans. Capriole. In PRINT!!!!

Carrma sez, "Buying my human's books will help her make sure I have enough hay to eat and a warm blankie during freak snowstorms in southern Arizona. Plus you get to read about Lipizzans like me."

Evey Brett

On writing "queer" fiction

Recently I was asked to write an introduction for one of my writing idols an mentors (can't say who, yet, as I don't know much of the project beyond it being to support queer fiction and writers) and came across an interview in which the author said they don't consider themselves a queer author. They are in a same-sex relationship and the novels they write involve same-sex relationships, but if a label needs to be applied to the author, they're a writer. A good one.

Which got me thinking about the characters I write. The vast majority are gay or bisexual. That's just the way my writer brain spits things out. And I don't think I've written anything where the characters worry about being gay or coming out and worrying what their friends or family are going to think. My stories aren't about being gay and coming to terms with it; that fact is just a part of who they are and they have other things to worry about, like saving the world or killing an incubus before it kills them.

I recently found the movie A Single Man at the library and picked it up. It's a gorgeous film based on the book by Christopher Isherwood (whose boyfriend has a brief cameo in the movie, as does the director's.) It's set in 1962, and notable in that there's only one overt reference to discrimination toward same-sex relationships. Otherwise, the characters just are who they are and love who they love. In the "Making Of" special feature, the director mentioned that the film wasn't about being gay; Colin Firth's love interest could have been a woman, and the overall message of the film would have been the same. Colin, too, said he didn't worry about "being gay" for the character. The character was a man who'd loved and lost and it didn't matter what sex his lover was. (Colin Firth is an amazing actor in this movie, and there are several nice shots of Nicholas Hoult's bare behind.)

One time I did a critique for an author who wanted my input on the gay sex scenes. I looked at it--and not only did they not work as gay sex scenes, they didn't work as sex scenes in general. They were flat and emotionless and did nothing to further the story. In the end, I told the author the same thing--Love is love. Sex is sex. The emotions involved are the same. In the end, we're all just people, whomever we love.

And, speaking of all types of love, my next book, Eliana, will be out on Feb. 19th from Loose Id. M/M/F BDSM.

Evey Brett