When player Marshall accepts a bet to bed Luke, a cute nerd who belongs to a “true love waits” group, he ends up wanting more than sex, but the group’s shady leader endangers more than their romance.
Art by P.L. Nunn
The WASPs actually made the top 20 Amazon gay romance list at one point. It’s one of those books that seems to be love it or hate it. I’m happy to report that Lisa of Joyfully Reviewed loved it!
Enjoy an uncompromising look at the idle and not so idle rich in the book, The WASPs. Funny, irreverent Blake and his bestie the suave, enigmatic Tyrone let us peek into their sometimes less than idyllic lives. Still water does run deep for them when the past collides with the present and secrets are unearthed. By stories end we discover there’s so much more to both men than the frothy lives presented when this book began. The WASPs gets more complicated and fascinating with each chapter. A surprising treat.
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Cover art by P.L. Nunn
Handsome Julian Larson is a talented singer and dancer who performs in drag to make ends meet. So when his best friend needs a burlesque act at the last minute for a fireman’s birthday party, he calls Julian. There Julian dances for the birthday boy Trent Fitzgerald; a too good to be true heart throb who is too nice to keep a woman in his life. Falling hard for the leggy, blond singer–but believing that she’s a woman named Julia–Trent tracks Julian down to his apartment where Julian poses as “Julia’s” twin in a desperate, doomed ploy to win over the sexy firefighter. When Trent inevitably uncovers the truth, will it mean the end of Julian’s chances or the beginning of a new opportunity?
Now available through Loose Id, my book (coauthored with Thursday Euclid), Black Gold, a m/m story about star crossed rock stars, is available in multiple formats.
I’m so excited about this. It’s not just a novel, it’s a novel plus, meaning it’s kind of long because, you know, writing sexy bits and describing costumes takes a lot of words. Also, we explored the themes of coming out in the media, romance in the spotlight, and the evolution and changing of the music industry.
As with most things I write, there is a bit of political undertone. It’s a fantasy, of course, but I hope it makes people think.
And, you know, if you’re going to be protesting the TSA this week by refusing scanning and getting patted down, this will not only give you something to pass the time, but maybe make the groping more fun.
Mmm strangers in latex gloves groping your junk. That’s how everyone should start their Thanksgiving holidays.
Buy now. Not just for you, but for the security of America. Or something.
Cover image by P.L. Nunn
It’s here, it’s finally here! Here is the book cover for my novel, co-written with Thursday Euclid, “Black Gold.” It’s coming out on Loose Id November 23rd. Gorgeous art by P.L. Nunn.
Billy “Goldie” Goldean is the biggest pop star in the world and he’s harboring a terrible, career-killing secret: he’s gay. Even with song titles such as “Astral Glider” and “Winking Brown Eye,” few question Goldie’s squeaky clean teen heartthrob status. That is, until Jethro “Jett” Black, an infamous womanizer and underground punk icon, names him in the pages of Rolling Stone magazine as the celebrity he’d most like to fuck.
After they hook up at an industry party, Goldie’s management dumps him, Jett’s exes come back to haunt them, and even Goldie’s mother makes a public plea for him to come to his senses. Can Goldie trust his untamed new lover, or will the pressures of fame tear them apart?
So.
I’m still working out this whole marketing thing and one thing I see and hear a lot is: Readers want to see your picture. They want to connect with you.
And, if you dig around not very deeply, you’ll find a picture of me. A slightly older picture from a modeling shoot I did a couple of years ago. And really, a couple of years. Not the “a couple of years in the grand scheme of the age of the world, 20 years is barely a blip” sort. The make-up and shadows are dramatic. You may or may not recognize me on the street. But it’s me. If you’re just dying for a face.
But here’s the thing: is that really what readers want?
Now, I’m in a semi-unique situation in that what I write is primarily gay. I sort of think my mug (no matter how great the picture) is distracting and maybe worse, a real turn off.
I’m up front about being a lady—I am who and what I am and don’t have the cash to change it. It’s not that I’m hiding that. And I don’t think I’m horrible to look at. But I just don’t see why anyone would want to see the man behind the curtain.
I’m going to say this with love, and don’t get offended (she says, knowing what’s about to come out of her fingers) but there are certain author sites I’ve seen where the author is working as the model and face of their work that made me embarrassed for them. They were primarily het writers and maybe that has its own set of rules, but really, I mean, really?
It makes me wonder whether the author pic isn’t a function of an author’s ego rather than what a reader wants. I really don’t know. I can only speak from experience in the mild disappointment I felt in how Chuck Palahniuk looked. Not that it mattered or that I stopped reading his work…but the not knowing let me make him what I wanted him to be.
But, it also told me that he wasn’t putting himself in the stories. Maybe it’s just me, but when I see the author’s photo and then read their stories and their heroine or hero looks exactly like them, it totally creeps me out.
Rationally, I know that stories are often fantasies, wish fulfillment that you can share with an audience. It’s not really how I write (another reason for m/m? you tell me) but I get that a lot do. And, if the heroine is a dumpy brunette who is whisked off on an adventurous life with a vampire, that’s pretty easy for readers to identify with (ouch, hurt myself with that one—covers dumpy brunette hair.) But do you really want to see how dumpy and brunette I am?
God. I just realized that all this time I’ve missed the point of the song “Words” by Missing Persons by thinking she’s asking “Do you see me? Do you care?” But no, it’s “Do you HEAR me?” which would make sense, since you don’t see words.
I mean, other than on a blog. Or a book. You know what I mean.
But seriously, look at her. I can’t concentrate on what she’s actually saying. Dayum. I forgot how hot she is.
Anyway, there are prizes and stuff and I’ll be giving away a book or two and sharing excerpts for my new m/m Steampunk story that’s supposed to be out June 28 on Noble Romance. I’m pretty excited about it and am doing interviews and podcasts and all of that fun stuff, so I’m sure you’ll be seeing all of that eventually. You can hear my strange take on the world and politics and world events.
Speaking of, if you follow my twitter you would’ve seen the exciting day in celebrity gossip. I’m not normally one to follow it, but there were bombs, gangrene, and kidnappings!
George Clooney says, “This is not the first bomb I’ve experienced.”
One year ago, Dean Winters died. But he feels a lot better now.
Kidnapped and forced to do drugs. Sounds like a party of three.
I’ve taken to microblogging more than anything else lately. I guess all my thoughts that go over 140 characters are going into stories.
I keep going in circles, coming back to the same conclusion: I need to do more marketing. I need to get out there. I need to shake babies and kiss hands. I need to campaign for hope, change, and people buying my books.
But then, there’s just something skeezy-feeling about running around promoting yourself. It feels needy and like perhaps you didn’t get enough hugs as a child.
There’s this notion that if the story is good enough, the people will come. This is not necessarily true. People read all sorts of really crappy books. And it’s not like McDonalds made such a fantastic hamburger that it’s become incredibly popular.
No, they enlisted a clown and a sockpuppet who supposedly loves their burgers so much that he tries to steal them. And Grimace, wtf is Grimace?
I think what I need is a mascot. I think it’ll be a pink anal plug that I’ll call Proddy. “Proddy says, ‘that’s some good buttsexin’!”
Or something.
