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.

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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?”

Guest Author Alexis Duran Excerpt from GRYFFON HALL

Veronica sez: Alexis and I first ‘met’ on the Weekend Writing Warrior snippet hop and I really enjoy her smoothly written books! She’s here with her latest – take it away, Alexis!

Alexis: Thanks for having me on Here Be Magic.  I love fantasy in all its forms, both as a reader and writer.  The inspiration for Gryffon Hall came as a response to a call for submissions from my publisher, Loose Id. They ran a poll on their website asking readers to vote for their favorite tropes. Then they collected the top ten and challenged authors to "give the people what they want".  When I saw "fairy tale revisited" was on the list, along with "marriage of convenience", the idea of a reimagined Beauty and the Beast type tale completely took over my mind.  I've always wanted to play with a twisted fairy tale and this story was ridiculously fun to write. I've also been drawn to writing shifter stories, and this certainly falls into that category as well.

As I was writing Gryffon Hall, I really came to appreciate once again the depth and breadth of this supposedly simple tale.  I'm a big fan of Clarissa Pinkola Estes, who wrote Women Who Run With Wolves, the book that first exposed me to the modern psychological underpinnings in ancient folk tales. There's a reason the stories have hung around so long and why we're drawn to reliving them again and again. They are both frightening and satisfying and we love to read them, if even we know how the stories will end, or think we do.  Kind of like Tarot cards, the symbolism speaks to something deep inside us.  With Beauty and the Beast, I believe we relate to both characters, the innocent thrust into a dangerous situation with all his preconceptions challenged and the misunderstood "dark man" who craves love but is afraid of his own wild nature. 

Sprinkle on a little magic, add a gay romance, some humor and hot sex, and voila, an ancient tale made new once again. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The Story: Fated to be born the useless fourth son of the Lord of Glimmerveen, Wryler dreams of getting married and escaping the rustic confines of his father's castle. A wealthy merchant's son seems to hold the key to Wryler's safe if somewhat dreary future. However, the arrival of a mysterious stranger on the eve of Wryler's betrothal sends his plans into disarray, and Wryler finds himself traded off in marriage to one of the most notorious rogues in the land. Is Lord Aeric Rouchet the scoundrel he appears to be, or is he something much worse?

Separated from his family and thrust into a strange and dangerous new life at the foreboding Gryffon Hall, Wryler must unravel the secret of his husband's shadowed life and defeat the curse which threatens not only his growing affection for the barbarian in his bed, but the lives of everyone the Lord of Gryffon Hall is sworn to protect.

In this excerpt, Wryler is on his way to Gryffon Hall.  He has his first encounter with a magical being and finds out just how tricky and capricious they can be.

The rain had finally stopped, and a brisk breeze tore rents in the clouds. Wryler was amazed to see how many more stars speckled the sky this far from the lights and dust of the castle and village. He’d left behind his telescope only after Krull assured him that Gryffon Hall had an entire chamber full of such “nonsense,” plundered along with books, artwork, and all sorts of useless things.

Wryler shivered but couldn’t help moving just a little farther away from the campfire and deeper into the shadows of the trees. A small brook gurgled and splashed, muffling the voices of the men who prepared for sleep. At the brook’s edge, a wider gap between the treetops made stargazing easier.

Wryler looked into the water and was pleased to see the face of the moon bobbing and dancing on the stream. This might not be much of a forest in Krull’s eyes, but it was still a magical place. Something long constrained unlocked within Wryler, and a sense of peace flooded through his bones. Maybe he was just tired. He leaned against an oak overhanging the stream and felt as if he might fall asleep standing upright.

“What a pretty thing to leave lying about. Why, someone might come along and snatch him up!”

Wryler shook his head, sure he’d momentarily slipped into a doze. He looked around for the source of the voice and wasn’t much surprised to see a man even smaller than himself crouching next to the stream.

“Why is it I’m not startled to see you there?” Wryler asked.

“Because I’ve cast a bit of a sleep spell over you so you won’t scream and run away.”

“A spell, eh?” A prickle of alarm poked at Wryler’s lethargy, but not enough to goad him into resisting. “Who are you, then? Or rather, what are you? An elf?”

The man snorted and stood upright. “Those do-gooding fairy lovers wouldn’t dare come this far into the lands of men. They call me Rumple.” He pointed at himself with his thumb. He was thin as twig. Black hair framed a gaunt, pale face. He was young, near Wryler’s age or thereabouts, and handsome in the devious way of cats, with a languid grace and hungry eyes.

It might have been the moonlight or the spell, but Wryler could see no color in Rumple’s eyes, only a clear light that reminded him of gazing into a crystal goblet of water.

“What do you want from me?” Wryler asked. He knew he should try to flee or call for help, but his limbs were heavy, and he was comfortable leaning against the tree. Besides, Krull would miss him soon. There wasn’t too much mischief Rumple could cause before Wryler was rescued.

“I don’t want anything from you, Wryler Glimmerveen. I want to give you something. Advice.”

“And why would I listen to a creature who pops up out of the woods and casts spells on people?”

“Because I know the truth about your groom. Lord Aeric Rouchet.” Rumple turned his head and spit into the stream.

“And what truth would that be?” Wryler asked, heart beating faster.

Rumple sauntered up to Wryler and leaned in close. He smelled of wild mint and wet moss. “He’s a monster,” he whispered.

“So people keep telling me,” Wryler said. “That word is open to interpretation. Do you mean monster literally or figuratively?”

Rumple stared at him, narrow eyes widening, then snarled and tapped Wryler on the chest. “You’ll find out soon enough. The only question is, are you smart enough to survive, or will you vanish like the others?”

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Author Bio:

Alexis Duran was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. At the University of Oregon, her fascination with people and relationships led her to major in Sociology, but her main love has always been creative writing.  She's worked in museums, finance, film production and for several performing arts organizations. Her favorite job so far has been inventorying the collection of a haunted Victorian Mansion.  She is the author of the Masters and Mages and Edge of Night m/m fantasy series as well as several stand-alone romances.  Her fiction has won several awards including the Rupert Hughes Award from the Maui Writers Conference and First Runner Up from Love Romances Cafe. She lives with one dog and four and a half cats.  She is always working on the next novel and has several new ideas brewing at all times.

You can connect with Alexis at www.alexisduranblog.com, http://twitter.com/AlexisSDuran. http://www.facebook.com/alexis.duran.18294 and https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8332457.Alexis_Duran

Jane's January Book Binge

For some reason, this is a thing I do. I often go for months without reading because I can barely manage to get in my 1,000 words a day of my own writing. And then something seems to happen after the holidays. All I want to do is read, and usually it’s passionate m/m romance I’m after.

So far this month, I’ve read ten novels (two were rereads) and five novellas, and this lust for other people’s words doesn’t show signs of stopping any time soon.

Part of it, I think, is that I finished writing my last manuscript at Christmastime, and I’ve been in a huge postpartum funk. As a writer, I carry these characters around with me all day and all night the entire time I’m writing their story. I go to sleep “writing” in my head. They’re my constant companions. And then I get to the last page and they aren’t with me anymore. It’s like having your closest friends and lovers abandon you after spending every waking (and non-waking) moment with you for months—and right after the best moment you’ve spent with them—that climax, that, yes, often lives up to its euphemism.

So in solace, I dive into other people’s stories, but they only last a day, or at most two. (I find it almost impossible to put a book down at night unfinished, so at this point, I’m obviously short on sleep.) The books are my drug, and I need another fix, and another to maintain that high.

So what have I been reading this January to keep me company in bed? KJ Charles’s A Charm of Magpies series tops the list. Hot, domineering, former Shanghai smuggler returned to Victorian England after years of exile to take his place as a reluctant earl, paired with a powerful but unassuming magical practitioner who’s submissive in the sheets? Complete with magical tattoos? Yes, please.

I also finished up Joanna Chambers Enlightenment series, a Regency Era romance set in Edinburgh. A secret romance between a lowborn lawyer and a world-weary earl, also hot and domineering. Okay, I’m in.

I read a few books by JL Merrow, whose contemporary m/m romance tends more toward the sweet than the hot (not that there’s anything wrong that!), and especially enjoyed the short novella Trick of Time because I can’t get enough of Victorian rentboys. Plus time travel? Please and thank you.

And then I stumbled on Ava March’s delightfully dirty Brook Street Regencies. More Victorian rentboys and thieves! Woohoo! And lots and lots of no-holds-barred m/m sex that is not kidding around. I think my favorite of the lot were the Rogues, a pair of notorious rakehells who haven’t quite figured out that they’re made for each other. Hot, angry sex between two dominant lords. What’s not to like?

Ahem. So…what have you been up to? Read anything good lately?

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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