Gender Roles with M.D. Grimm

RubyLostandFoundHi everyone! M.D. Grimm here. I first want to thank Lissa for having me on her blog (thank you!) and for having such a fun subject today: Gender roles. But first, let me say a little something about myself. I write m/m romance, usually with a supernatural, paranormal, or fantasy flair. I was born in western Oregon with the rain, I love to read and write, and I’m obsessed with dragons, LOTR/Silmarillion, and ancient mythology. I like the fantastical, have a keen interest in the supernatural/paranormal, but I’m actually a very practical person who analyzes everything within an inch of its life… which is probably why I enjoy today’s topic so much.

What are gender roles? It’s a concept we understand but to try and describe what it means is difficult. At least, I find it difficult. Do the roles have to do with opposites, dichotomies? Nurturer vs. provider or gatherer vs. hunter? Do they have a set definition or do they change with the seasons, with the mood of society? Is it as simple as the woman always being the damsel in distress and the man her knight? I really hope that’s not the case. Why can’t the man be the damsel? Would we even like a man as the damsel? Would we want to read that story?

I’m not here to answer those questions. I don’t have the answers, but I think it’s fun to analyze, to explore, to challenge the “gender roles” of a society.

This also becomes a very interesting challenge for those of us who write m/m or f/f or any other spectrum of romance other than m/f (though some m/f authors do play with the idea of gender roles, the majority seem to find comfort in following the established “roles”—at least the ones I’ve read). Many people enjoy a strong woman character but 4AgateThenandNowrarely do I find a “weak” man, or a man who takes the standard woman’s role in the romance. To that end you end up with two strong characters, which is great, but what happens to the “roles?” Personally, I find them outdated, since society changes with each generation and what was once “normal” (I have a distinct dislike of that word) is cast aside for the new “normal.”

When you have two men in a relationship, do gender roles even apply? How can they? For myself, I let the personalities of my characters dictate their roles in the relationship. One is usually more nurturing than the other, or one is a tad more aggressive. But they can still surprise me when I least expect it, and a hard character can become a softy depending on the situation. There’s a certain type of freedom and fluidity when writing romances that aren’t m/f. I don’t feel beholden to set guidelines regarding my characters and how their relationship should unfold.

2PeridotWarAndPeaceFor example, with my “The Stones of Power” series, my two main characters are warriors. One is a dark mage named Lord Morgorth and the other, his mate, is a dialen (Tolkien elf-like creature) named Aishe (pron: Ash). Morgorth is a powerful mage and Aishe is an expert swordmaster, archer, and tracker. But despite their ability to go to war, they both have softer sides. For Morgorth, he didn’t know about his softer side until he met Aishe, while Aishe grew up in a tribe with four siblings and knows when to be tough and when to be sweet. They complement each other and there’s a give-and-take they learn to negotiate as the series progresses. Neither of them fit the standard “women” or “man” gender role. They flip-flop depending on the situation; when one shows vulnerability, the other is there to shield them and visa-versa.

While I have Morgorth often save Aishe from dangers, I don’t think Aishe fits the “woman” role in the relationship. It simply comes down to Aishe fighting other mages and being out of his league. Morgorth doesn’t really fit the “man” role, either, since he’s very emotional (when he allows himself to be) and he’s quite moody. The perceived role for men seems to be a lack of emotion (which is just silly). At least, that’s why I’ve observed. And some men are better at hiding their emotions, or don’t wish to show them. That’s fine. But in the context of a romance story, emotion is the main part, isn’t it?

Then I have to ask again: What are gender roles? Do they even apply anymore? Should they? Do we subconsciously make our characters adhere to roles or are we able to break 3AmethysBowAndArrowfree from those constraints that never stay the same?

Something to ask yourself, I think.

What do you think? What are “gender roles?” Do you think they still have importance today?

May dragons guard your dreams,

M.D. Grimm

My home: www.mdgrimmwrites.com

The Stones of Power series available at: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=358&zenid=444c592bdcc1f41429342cd14e02289e

The Shifters series available at: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/AuthorArcade/md-grimm

M.D. Grimm lives in the wet state of Oregon, and when she’s not reading, writing, or watching movies, she dreams of owning a pet dragon. She’s wanted to become an author since second grade and feels that her dreams are finally coming true. She was fortunate to have supporting parents who never told her to “get her head out of the clouds.” While she doesn’t like to write in only one set genre, she feels romance is at the core of most of her stories. M.D. earned a Bachelor of Arts in English at the University of Oregon and hopes to put that degree to good use in the literature world as well as the “real” world.

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Genderswap with K Lynn

I have always been interested in genderswap fiction, but I find most of it jumps straight to objectification rather than exploration. You’re turned into another gender, so the first thing you do is feel yourself up and try to have sex with the nearest willing person? I don’t buy that.

Essentially your body doesn’t match your inner self anymore. That should cause some kind of journey to either accept or reject the situation. That’s what I tried to do with His Womanly Ways. Alex didn’t ask for this to happen to him, and the process is gradual, as is his acceptance of the changes. His mind doesn’t match the image he sees in the mirror, and that’s important to realize.

Alex is a womanizer. He makes no excuses for it. Yes, he picks up women at the local bar, leaving them with just a memory of a good night and a good lay, but he hasn’t had any complaints yet. That is, until he picks up the wrong woman. Not satisfied to be tossed aside as just another notch in Alex’s bedpost, she curses him, wishing he “knew what it was like for a woman.” And he’s about to find out what she means, embarking on a genderswap journey that he can’t stop.

Alex starts slowly gaining secondary female characteristics. Waking up with his cock gone, replaced by a vagina, was bad enough. Then it gets worse, as his body becomes more like a woman than the man he used to be. Alex tries to hide the changes he’s going through, for fear that someone will discover his secret, but keeping this quite literally “under wraps” might be impossible before the curse runs its course.

With the help of his female best friend, Eve, Alex tries to deal with who he is becoming.  He feels like he’s lost his identity, his mind not matching the body he now has. But Eve sticks by him, and they become closer as Alex’s changes progress. What started out as friendship may become something more before Alex’s journey is over. Perhaps this curse was actually a blessing in disguise.

~~

About The Book: His Womanly Ways

hiswomanlyways

Torquere

Amazon

 

 

 

 

 

About The Author: K. Lynn

  1. writerklynnLynn has been an avid reader and writer since childhood. While in college, K. Lynn increased her involvement in LGBT issues and writing within the LGBT fiction genre. She has become a long-time fan of the authors that seek to explore the commonality that exists within all sexualities and genders. Most of K. Lynn’s work features LGBT characters, many of whom are in established relationships and show how love perseveres through every trial and tribulation that life holds. She also has a particular interest in seeing transgender characters gain a larger foothold within the LGBT fiction genre, hoping that the market for these works expand in the future. Contact K. Lynn at writerklynn@gmail.com or follow her on Twitter @WriterKLynn
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MM Scavenger Hunt

Army Banner 2 Update

 

Welcome to the first annual MM Memorial Day Scavenger Hunt! 10 Days, 30 Blogs, and loads of prizes! The rules are simple: At each stop on the tour you’ll find a military themed picture with a word or words. Collect the words and figure out the secret phrase (HINT: It’s lyrics to a song). Once you think you have the correct phrase, enter it into the Rafflecopter at any of the stops.

One grand prize winner will be selected from all the correct phrases. Use the other Rafflecopter options to enter to win one of the runner-up packages.

Good Luck and Happy Hunting!

Our stop’s phrase is: Meant

 

Scavanger Hunt Pics - Meant-LKasey

Grand Prize ($45 GC total)
-Kindle Paperwhite (VWF)
-Swag (VWF)
-$25 GC (Jessie G)
-$20 GC (Sara York)
-2 ebooks (Jessie G & BFD)
-Bad Boyfriends series ebooks & print (3 books) from Nya Rawlins

1st Place ($35 GC total)
-$25 GC (Nya Rawlins)
-$10 GC (Sloan Johnson)
-CTR & backlist ebooks from Kade Boehme
-Unicorns & Hidden Gem ebooks from Lissa Kasey
-Winner’s ebook of choice from MMGoodbookreviews
-Adventures of Cole & Perry ebook from Amanda C. Stone

2nd Place ($30 GC total)
-$20 GC (Aria Grace)
-$10 ARE GC (Prism Book Alliance)
-Love at First Site ebook from Cardeno C.
-Trouble Comes in Threes ebook from M.A. Church
-Winner’s choice of Felice Stevens ebook

3rd Place ($20 GC total)
-$10 Amazon GC (READing is FUN Da Mental)
-$10 GC (Two Chicks Obsessed with Books and Eye Candy)
-backlist ebook from Annabeth Albert
-Winner’s choice of Aria Grace ebook
-Winner’s choice of Andrew Grey ebook

4th Place ($20 GC total)
-$10 GC (Felice Stevens)
-$10 Amazon GC (Amy Lane)
-Undercover Love series ebooks (2 books) from Brendan Cothern
-Winner’s choice of Susan MacNicol ebook
-Winner’s choice of Lexi Ander ebook

5th Place ($20 GC total)
-$10 Amazon GC (BFD)
-$10 GC (Lexi Ander)
-Winner’s choice of Kindle Alexander ebook
-Winner’s choice of Susan MacNicol ebook
-Winner’s choice of backlist ebook from Cate Ashwood

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Participating Blogs/Authors:

May 25

BFD Book Blog

Cardeno C.

Kade Boehme

May 26

Prism Book Alliance

Cate Ashwood

Reading is FunN’mental

May 27

Lissa Kasey

Hearts On Fire Reviews

Nya Rawlyns

May 28

Carly’s Book Reviews

Jessie G. Books

Two Chicks Obsessed with Books and Eye Candy

May 29

Annabeth Albert

MM Good Books Reviews

M.A. Church

May 30

Amanda C. Stone

Amy Lane

Aria Grace

May 31

Kindle Alexander

Sara York

Taylor Brooks

June 1

Andrew Grey

Divine Magazine

Brenda Cothern

June 2

Kai Tyler

3 Chicks After Dark

Sloan Johnson

June 3

Felice Stevens

Lexi Ander

Vampires, Werewolves & Fairies Oh My!

 

Posted in Hidden Gem, Lexi Ander, Lissa Kasey, News | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Model Citizen Snippet

mccover

Blurb:

Oliver “Ollie” Petroskovic’s life as an international supermodel was heading in the right direction. He worked part-time for his brother at his detective agency—Petroskovic Haven Investigations—and had just bought his dream house. But all that changed when he found his brother dead, a victim of PTSD-induced suicide.

Almost a year later, Ollie is trying to keep his brother’s business afloat, but can’t get his PI license. Then his brother’s best friend, Kade Alme, shows up, fresh from the battlefield after a close brush with death. Kade is looking for a new life, in more ways than one, and with PI license in hand, he’s exactly what Ollie needs to keep PHI running.

When one of Ollie’s childhood friends gets in trouble, Ollie feels he has to help. Kade insists on investigating if only to keep Ollie safe. Neither realizes the danger they’re in as someone tries to tear them apart before they can find solid ground together.

~~~~~~~~~

Prologue

I rotated my wrist in a circle to try to relieve the cramping and numbness forming, but they kept pushing more pages at me to initial, sign, and date. Hard to believe I, Oliver Petroskovic, had given them a check for over a million dollars for a home with “beautiful city views, Victorian bones, and a large private yard.” The place was a dump with crumbling walls, torn wallpaper, no appliances, and missing copper plumbing. However, it was going to be home for generations of Petroskovics. If there was anything Jacob, my ex-boyfriend, had taught me with his betrayal, it was that blood truly was thicker than water.

Now all I needed was for my older brother Nathan to find some pretty girl to settle down with and have babies. I would be the proud uncle, spoiling the kids, watching them grow, and easily coaxed into free babysitting when I wasn’t walking a runway in Paris or Milan. A few more years of modeling, and I could retire wealthy enough to take care of the whole family no matter how many kids Nathan had.

I’d have to retire soon, anyway. Models didn’t often last beyond twenty-two, and I was already pushing twenty-three. I thanked God every day for blessing me with flawless skin and the feminine figure that made my teenage years miserable but my modeling so lucrative.

I never would have dreamt at fifteen that seven years later I’d be traveling the world, speaking a half-dozen languages, and studying the high-pressure venue of fashion. No, that skinny kid was all knees and elbows and endlessly teased for never being enough of a man. But the money I made taking off my clothes and dressing femininely paid for the house in full. A house others could only dream of in the expensive Pacific Heights area of San Francisco, California, where multimillion-dollar houses congregated in beautiful rows of Victorian architecture. Sure, the house needed work, but no mortgage was a good thing. I wouldn’t have to worry about maintaining the high-buck jobs I fought so hard for now. And Nathan would help with the renovations, make it our home.

We had looked at over a hundred places. Some immaculate, which appealed to my laziness, but not to Nathan’s need to improve. And I debated with my agent on the price so many times, unwilling to pay so much for spaces too small for the effort of moving. The studio apartment Nathan and I had shared for the past three years worked well only when I was traveling. The flat was just too small, though it was blocks from the building Nathan used as an office for his investigations business. An easy walk to public transportation, shops, and endless restaurants made the rent sky-high. Buying was more economical. And finding a fixer with potential sweat equity was what Nathan had convinced me we needed.

The three-thousand square foot, three-story layout would give us plenty of space to not always be bumping into each other, and yet keep us close enough we wouldn’t have to go far to find the other. Nathan had been looking after me for years. Warned me about Jacob. My house search had actually begun as a way to find a home for Jacob and me to be together. But I should have listened to Nathan.

Jacob Elias was a rock star—with a voice like a god and an amazing ass in leather pants. He’d even won a couple Grammys and was featured on magazines everywhere. Which meant my face was plastered across every rag from here to Timbuktu. A year of my life I’d wasted, listening to him tell me all the stories about him cheating were untrue. Until I caught him in bed with another man. Nathan was there with a hug instead of a told-you-so.

A million dollars didn’t seem like that much in the larger scope of things, though it had been the bulk of my savings. I’d rather have Nathan close at hand than money, anyway. He was all I had, and I couldn’t wait to rush home and hand him the keys.

“Just one last signature, Mr. Petroskovic.” The guy slaughtered my last name again. He’d been corrected a half-dozen times. “That ad you did in Esquire was phenomenal.” He adjusted his tie and smiled, winking at me.

I sighed, signed the last page, and shoved my mirrored sunglasses down to cover my eyes, giving the man a slight smile. “Thanks.” Not interested, move along.

“Where are you from?” he tried again, apparently not getting my not-so-subtle hint the first time.

“Oakland,” I replied and turned toward my real estate agent, effectively turning off the conversation. The man was probably shocked by my origins. But Nathan and I had come a long way from neighborhoods filled with gangs, drugs, and never-ending violence. I couldn’t count the number of times people had offered to pay me for sex while I walked home from school. Nathan saved my ass often when some wannabe something thought the pretty blond kid with a hard-to-pronounce last name was worth stirring up trouble. We’d survived. Worked hard to make ourselves better. Nathan had enlisted at seventeen, only to be called home six years later when our parents died. He refused to let the state separate us and instead left the Marines to take over as my guardian. I was twelve, and he became my life.

The rest was history. What we had now was the future. And I could finally give back to the man who’d given me everything he could. I fingered the keys as they made copies of the paperwork for me. Nathan was going to be so excited to start working on the house. When he wasn’t tracking down cheating spouses and white-collar criminals, he was building something. I couldn’t wait to see what he’d make of the house. The attic space would be mine. The giant wall of windows with sparkling glimpses of the ocean in the far distance called to me. The unfinished space was three times the size of our studio and would be solely mine.

My realtor handed me a folder filled with papers. He was probably thrilled to get rid of me. Over a year of searching and a dozen fruitless bids had finally brought us to this day. He held out his hand, and I took it to shake. “Congratulations, Oliver.”

I grinned at him. It was done. The house was ours. “Thank you for your patience, Mr. Frost.” I grabbed up my bag, shoved the folder in it, and headed for the door. Since I was downtown, I could walk home instead of calling a cab, but I wanted to get to Nathan so bad. He’d be at work, of course. But he would look up, smile, tell me he was proud of me, and maybe I could convince him to close up for the day to celebrate.

Tall, dark, and handsome waited for me in the lobby.

It was Will, my brother’s best friend, my best friend’s husband, and San Francisco PD. “What are you doing here?” I had to ask him. His lack of uniform meant he was off-duty, but he wore everything well with strong shoulders and lean hips. Even in jeans and a polo, no one would mistake him for anything other than a cop. He was my first crush. I’d been sixteen when he’d appeared back in Nathan’s life. A fellow Marine, he and Nathan were close. And when Nathan wasn’t around, Will usually was.

“Came to pick you up and take you to a congratulatory lunch. Britney planned it but had a last-minute client. So you’re stuck with me. How’s donuts sound?” He was always making cop jokes at his own expense.

I laughed. Britney was Will’s wife and my best friend. I could imagine how she had begged her husband, likely promising sexual favors, just to get Will to show up. He’d have come anyway, but I knew for a fact Will loved playing negotiator with Britney. Since I couldn’t have him, I was pretty happy my best friend had gotten him. “And ruin my girlish figure? You know I don’t eat that stuff.”

“Tofu and air it is,” Will teased as he led the way to his Suburban.

“Fish. No tofu.” I scrunched up my face in distaste. “Even I have standards. But let’s go get Nathan first.” I waved the new keys around and got in the truck. “I want to give him the keys to the house since I’m leaving for Milan tomorrow.”

Will backed the truck out of the lot. “PHI it is, then. Maybe you can convince that workaholic brother of yours to actually go to lunch with us. You know he’ll make some excuse about having work to do.”

Yeah, that was Nathan. He worked more than I did, often banking eighty or more hours a week. Sadly the fruits of his labor would never be enough to afford us a house large enough to live comfortably. The million-dollar dream house was a thank-you from me to Nathan. I owed him so much. He’d paid for private school and attended all of those early modeling sessions to protect me from predators. Lots of people wanted to take advantage of the kid who suddenly began making thousands of dollars for taking off his clothes. I learned very quickly to be comfortable in nothing but my skin, but to also be wary of the world, as everyone wanted something from me.

“Business appears to be booming as usual,” Will snarked as he pulled into the lot in front of the PHI building and parked the truck. Other than Nathan’s battered Honda, the lot was empty.

“He’s probably at the computer doing background checks.” Whenever I wasn’t modeling, it was what I did. My college degree had been achieved with the idea that someday I’d be assisting Nathan full-time at PHI. But since I was off signing my life away for a house this morning, that left the boring computer work and answering phones to Nathan, who hated it.

I slid out of the truck and trudged to the front door, giving it a hard yank. It was locked. That was weird. I fished my key ring out of my pocket and flipped through them until I found the one for the door, and unlocked it. “Maybe he’s taking a break?”

Will frowned but pulled the door open and held it for me. “Not really something your brother does without coaxing. Did he say anything about having a meeting today?”

I shook my head. I was the one who arranged Nathan’s schedule and couldn’t recall anything being lined up for today. “It would have had to be something last minute,” I told Will as I stepped inside. The office smelled. Metallic and something more unpleasant. “What’s that smell?” It couldn’t be a gas leak; the office was electric. In fact, Nathan had installed solar panels on the roof last year, taking it mostly off the grid. Costs to stay in San Francisco were sky-high as it was, so we tried to stay green and cheap all at once.

Maybe the bathroom was backed up. “Nathan?” I called.

Will grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the door to Nathan’s office. “Go out to the car, Ollie.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed. “Got a possible DB,” he told the person who answered and rattled off the address.

I blinked at him in confusion for a moment. DB. Dead body? My heart flip-flopped and bile filled my throat. What about Nathan? I tried to loosen Will’s grip so I could get to Nathan’s office. The door was closed. Nathan rarely closed the door, always said something about an open door showing trust. Will’s arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me with the ease of a grown-up lifting a child, and carried me outside.

“Let me go. Nathan might be in there. He could be hurt.”

“Right, ’cause you have medical training that can help? Whatever’s in there, you don’t need to see. And help is on the way.” His grip was like iron around me no matter how hard I struggled. The sound of sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer. Nathan had always said it was good to be close to downtown, the hospital, the police, and the fire station all only minutes away.

An unmarked arrived first and parked beside Will’s truck. The officer who got out greeted Will respectfully by nodding his head. “Forrester.”

“We need to do a welfare check on the owner,” Will told the cop. “Main office.” His eyes flicked to me. “Owner’s brother and I arrived together, else I would have done it already.”

The officer nodded and headed inside. He was back a minute later, just as an ambulance and a half-dozen other cops showed up. The cop shook his head at Will.

“What does that mean?” I asked. “Where’s Nathan? Is he hurt?”

Will guided me over to one of the police cars. “Sit here until I can go check. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Let me come with you,” I begged. If that was Nathan in there….

“No,” Will said firmly. He opened the door to the back of the squad and shoved me inside. The door closed and I realized there was no way to get out, as there were no handles and a barrier between the front and back seats.

“Dammit!” I pounded on the window trying to get Will to come back, but he walked toward the building with a handful of other cops and medics who arrived and disappeared inside a moment later. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. It hurt as it raced in my chest, rattling my ribs like it weren’t really attached to my body. What if it was Nathan? Who would hurt him? Everyone liked him. Except for the occasional client whom he’d caught cheating. Why weren’t the EMTs coming out with him? How bad was he hurt?

Will was back a moment later. Instead of letting me out of the car, he slid into the backseat beside me and closed the door. The other officers congregated away from the car, giving us privacy. I could feel tears running down my cheeks before I even knew exactly what Will was going to say.

“Did someone hurt Nathan? Is he okay? Tell me, Will.”

Will’s expression said it all, the tightness in his jaw and the watery edges of his eyes. “It looks like Nathan hurt Nathan.”

What? That made no sense. What was he saying? “Was there an accident?”

“I’m sorry, Ollie. He’s gone. Looks like he put a gun in his mouth.”

It took a few moments for the words to register. “What? No! He wouldn’t. I don’t understand. Let me out. I have to see him.” I threw myself at the opposite door, willing to break the window if I had to get out and get to Nathan. “It’s not him. You’ve got it wrong, Will. It can’t be him. He wouldn’t leave me. I closed on our house today. We were going to raise his family there. He was going to paint and remodel to make it our dream home.”

Will wrapped me up into his arms, locking my body against his though I tried to struggle free. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Stay here with me, Ollie. You don’t need that memory. Just remember him how he was. God, kid. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s wrong. You’re wrong. It can’t be him. Let me go. I have to see him. He needs me.” But Will wouldn’t let me go, and my world swirled in a crazy whirl of flashing lights and disjointed sound bites carrying me into a future where I was all alone.

Dreamspinner press ebook: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=6494

Dreamspinner press Print: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=6495

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Coffee Date by Lynn K

CoffeeDateThe perception of gender and trying to place people into specific gender roles is very limiting. What does it mean to be a man or a woman? And what if you don’t fit neatly into either role? Or if society has assigned you as one gender when you actually don’t perceive yourself to be that gender? For my novella, Coffee Date, Alice is dealing with how society perceives her versus how she perceives herself.

 

Alice is finally happy with her body and her life—except for the part where revealing she’s trans winds up leaving her hurt and abandoned over and over again. She’s decided she’s done making herself miserable by looking for love.

Love finds her anyway, in the form of Hank, the new guy at her local coffee shop. He’s sweet, friendly, charming… and will probably turn out like all the rest. Determined not to shatter the fantasy and lose him before she has to, Alice holds fast to her secrets.

But if the truth doesn’t ruin everything, the lies will, and it seems no matter which choice she makes Alice is set for just one more heartache.

 

I knew that I wanted to explore Alice’s feelings in this novella, and that she would have built up a wall to protect herself from the hurt she’d experienced over the years since she began her transition. What I didn’t know, and what she soon showed me through revealing her story, was how deep that hurt ran and how much damage it had caused. Alice is constantly trying to match up to what she thinks she should be, what society has taught her she should be, while making herself miserable because she hasn’t reached that constructed reality. In the end, what she had to learn and what we all have to learn, is that you don’t have to fit into anyone’s constructed categories. Be yourself, whoever that might be.

~~

About The Book: Coffee Date

Coffee Date is a 12,000 word contemporary transgender novella that explores Alice’s struggle to find acceptance, and possibly love, in a world that has not been kind to her on either front.

 

Read an excerpt at Less Than Three Press.

http://www.lessthanthreepress.com/excerpt-coffee-date/

 

Coffee Date officially releases on July 1st, but you can pre-order it now!

http://www.lessthanthreepress.com/books/index.php?main_page=product_bookx_info&cPath=90&products_id=913

 

 

writerklynnAbout The Author: K. Lynn

  1. Lynn has been an avid reader and writer since childhood. While in college, K. Lynn increased her involvement in LGBT issues and writing within the LGBT fiction genre. She has become a long-time fan of the authors that seek to explore the commonality that exists within all sexualities and genders. Most of K. Lynn’s work features LGBT characters, many of whom are in established relationships and show how love perseveres through every trial and tribulation that life holds. She also has a particular interest in seeing transgender characters gain a larger foothold within the LGBT fiction genre, hoping that the market for these works expand in the future. Contact K. Lynn at writerklynn@gmail.com or follow her on Twitter @WriterKLynn
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | 1 Comment

Spring is for Lovers by Kelly Jensen

They say spring is for lovers, but what if you live in a place with no spring? As I write this, the thought of never seeing another spring makes me want to curl up and die. It’s been a long winter in North America, and unreasonably cold.

I could argue that cold weather is good for lovers. Nothing like a bit of nippy air to encourage the use of one bed and that whole taking your clothes off to exchange body heat thing is a fantastically sexy device. Summer weather is great for showing off a lot of skin and skin is very alluring. Then there is the romanticism of fall. Crisp mornings, the smell of crushed leaves, and cool evenings made for cuddling close. But spring is the time of awakening. It’s when we emerge from hibernation and stretch. Leaves unfurl, flowers open their faces and bunnies get busy. It’s a time of birth and rebirth. A time of new beginnings.

Rituals and festivals celebrating spring are an important part of nearly every culture on Earth. As a writer of speculative fiction, I often wonder which of these rites we’ll take to the stars with us, however. When we chart years’ long voyages to distant planets and take up residence in stations and habitats, will we mark the same time? Space does weird things to time. And, as we’ve discovered, our planet has a pretty unique biosphere.

This is not to say that cramped quarters aboard an ark ship won’t be conducive to love. Quite the contrary. I imagine any long voyage is going to see an increase in the number of passengers—if they’re not all put to sleep, of course.

(I mean cryo-sleep, not Fluffy’s just going to the vet for a checkup sleep)

(But then the cockroaches might breed and take over helm control, possibly steering the ship into the nearest black hole—at which point we might discover the universe adjacent to ours and…I had better get off this tangent before I start writing a whole other blog post)

A generational ship might observe native holidays and festivals. Or maybe they will create their own. Days to commemorate important events, rituals that arise out of a new way of living. By the time they land (we’re assuming the best here!) several cultures might have merged to give new meanings to seasonal and religious celebrations, which have always been so closely linked.

The colonists will celebrate their landing (good or bad) and perhaps that will be something like a spring festival, a new beginning. This would be a momentous occasion, so hugely important. The day we, as explorers and pioneers, claimed a new world, a new home. The climate and seasons of this new world would inform the culture as much as what they bring with them. Perhaps the seasons will be reversed—doesn’t make sense to me, either, but this is science fiction—or maybe they’ll find a planet that is locked in eternal spring.

That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?

Whatever happens, one thing is certain. Love will be a part of our journey to the stars. Spring might be when we celebrate fertility, but you can’t confine sex to a season. And reaching out to the stars is just going to give us so many more ways to get together and celebrate being together.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

CSCover190Felix and Zander met in the ‘spring’ of their lives, when they were just eight years old. Their lifelong friendship developed into love just before they graduated school—only to be separated by their careers and then war. In Chaos Station (Chaos Station #1), they are reunited.

Seasons play no role in their love story—in fact, Felix isn’t a fan of planets. But their love will be defined by the passage of years and the places they visit.

Read the first chapter of Chaos Station at http://chaosstation.com

Find me online at http://kellyjensenwrites.com

Twitter: @kmkjensen

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kellyjensenwrites

 

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Unfinished beginnings part 2 by Lissa Kasey

amber_osterhout_painting

The sky shone bright blue through the metal crisscross of wire mesh over the window. Down below, the trees grew tall and green, birds flew about merrily, and the world turned for everyone else. People passed by, walking down the sidewalk, cross the street, many stared up at the windows. Some shuddered or hid their eyes. Among them, demons. Hundreds. Maybe even thousands of them. He’d lost count years ago.

Myrtle was screeching down the hall again, that meant demons were coming to give him his pills. The tell-tale clip clop of boots headed his way made his shoulders tighten with apprehension. Maybe if he didn’t look at them they would just let him take them and leave. He blinked away a hot rush of tears that filled his eyes. How dumb to be afraid of these same demons.

These two came every day, twice a day. One held the tray with the pills and a small glass of water, the other stood behind the first, beefy arms crossed, waiting for any wrong move. But there was no fight left in him. He liked sitting here staring out the window. They never let him outside anymore. Not after he’d been lost staring at a demon for several hours. How long ago had that been? A few months? Maybe a few years? Not that it really mattered. One day blended into the next.

He took his pills dutifully, handed back the empty cups and opened his mouth to show they’d been swallowed. Only when they walked away did he finally feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. Distantly there was the sound of a TV blaring. Rose often yelled at the people on the screen like they could hear her. He wondered if she knew most of them were demons too.

More footsteps headed his way, several sets, one heavier than the rest. There were raised voices. Had they forgotten a pill? It’d been ages since he’d been taken downstairs. He didn’t have to go back for more training did he? He swallowed a pain filled breath, fear coursing through him in an instant. He’d do anything, say whatever they wanted, as long as they didn’t strap him down again.

He began to shake as the voices filled the room.

“Why isn’t he ready to go?” Someone demanded. A pair of women paused just inside the door, glaring around the room. “This is worse than a prison. Why is he in a straight jacket?”

“We haven’t received official release papers. I’m sorry, Ma’am, but you can’t be in here. This is a restricted ward. Mr. Winters is one of our more volatile patients.” One of the demons tried to block them from coming further into the room.

“Volatile? He looks like he’s thirteen years old, underfed, and hasn’t seen real sunlight in at least a decade.” Someone stepped into the room behind them. A demon, but not one he’d ever seen before. This demon had long hair like an angel, all golden and bright falling like lazy petals over his shoulders and cascading down his back, and he wore dark clothes, leather with lots of zippers. His hands were covered in a bright spattering of ink. This demon towered over the others, his face stern, eyes narrowed. His voice had been gruff and angry.

One of the women pushed her way across the room and knelt down between the chair and the window. “It’s time to go home, Aaidan.”

Aaidan? Oh, right that was his name. Sometimes he forgot. He sighed and wondered what she meant. Home. What a foreign word. A memory of an angry man, fists raised, and a sobbing woman flashed through his head. Pain. He flinched.

“He’s not stable enough to leave, Ms. Franks.”

“It’s Mrs. Franks. You’re standing next to my wife.” The woman nearest Aaidan snapped back. “If case you’ve forgotten, your little hospital has been ordered to release, with compensation, all victims of your sexual identity conversion scam. I’ll be surprised if this hospital isn’t closed by the end of the week. Get him out of that awful jacket right now.”

Mrs. Fanks. You know we can’t do that. He is a ward of the state. His parents handed him over to the Heavenly Road Asylum more than ten years ago. You know they gave up all rights to him.”

“Jake?” The woman looked at the long-haired demon.

“On it, O.” With only two long strides was sudden in front of Aaidan.

“You can’t do this!” The other demon shouted.

The long-haired demon smiled at Aaidan. “Hey, little buddy. You ready to get out of here? See some sunshine, eat some real food?” His eyes were a shade of bright green. Face somewhat scruffy but beautiful like an angel.

“Are you a demon or an angel?” Aaidan whispered.

“Well, I guess we’re all sort of both right? A little good, a little bad? That’s what it means to be human.” He fiddled with the straps of the coat finally snatched a knife out of his pocket and sawed way the last remaining strap, then tucked the blade away again. “Your aunt’s been really worried about you.”

The woman touched his face. Her eyes were kind, a warm brown, skin around them slightly wrinkled, but not from tension. She didn’t look at him like the others did here. “Do you recognize me at all, sweetheart?”

Aaidan thought about those warm eyes. The woman who had been sobbing had eyes like those, only never as soft and welcoming. There was this one time when he was little that someone looked at him like that, with no judgment, just love. Aaidan remembered eating fresh baked chocolate chip cookies while his Aunt Olivia stroked his hair. He’d been seven and had fallen off his bike.

He blinked again. Surprised by such a lucid memory. Most of the time all he had was fog. “I remember cookies.”

A smile lit up the woman’s face. “I’ll bake you some fresh cookies when we get home. Oh, baby boy!” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him fiercely.

Aaidan frowned, not sure what to do. He wasn’t allowed to touch anyone. He looked back at the long-haired demon. Security filled the room, a group of hulking demons in uniforms with sticks that hurt. He’d felt their sting before, but the long-haired demon rose to his full height, a scary thing that was, and cracked his knuckles.

“I’ve got his release forms, all the court orders, and federal mandates right here,” the second woman waved a stack of papers around. “Try to stop us and you’re all going to jail.”

Olivia pulled the straight jacket off and tossed it aside. “Do you have anything you need to take with you, baby boy?” She looked around the room, but there was nothing personal. “Jake, can you carry him?”

“I don’t remember what cookies taste like,” Aaidan said quietly.

“He’s so tiny. Didn’t they feed him?” Jake, who was the long-haired demon, scooped him up out of the chair. “Weighs nothing. Christ, my dogs have more meat on them than him.”

“Not supposed to touch,” Aaidan said voice raised slightly in alarm. The warmth of Jake’s body against his was nice. He was always so cold, but no one ever gave him extra blankets. Demanding young men went to hell. Evil young men with wicked thoughts like his. “I don’t want to go to hell.”

“Peanut, I think you’ve been there for the last decade,” Jake commented as he headed for the door. “Ladies, let’s get out of this hell hole.”

Faces peered at them from every doorway. The silence almost painful while Aaidan struggled to keep himself from falling into the devil’s snare and enjoying the strong arms around him. No one was supposed to touch him. The demons used to back when Aaidan had fought the medication, but that had been years ago. Now they just held him down to shove the pills down his throat.

His panic began to rise as they ventured into areas Aaidan hadn’t been in years, down the stairs, through the main hallway, and toward the door. He couldn’t go outside. Evil waited for him out there. It was everywhere, hiding in every corner, waiting to suck him down to the black abyss of never-ending fire. He began to struggle.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, kiddo. No one is gonna hurt you,” Jake told him.

“Aaidan, I’m just taking you home. I promise we’ll keep you safe.” Olivia stroked his brow, but the door was so close. The light shining through it so bright it hurt his eyes.

“Can’t. Can’t go out there. Demons!” Aaidan fought with all his might, though he might as well have been a flea in Jake’s arms. He sucked in several huge lung-full of breath but still couldn’t breathe.

“He’s hyperventilating, Olivia,” Jake stopped just before they exited the building.

A doctor cut them off and the security guards became a wall of bodies. “You cannot remove him from this hospital. Mr. Winters is very disturbed.”

“No doubt because of your reprogramming methods. We have video you know. One of your nurses defected and gave us hundreds of hours of videos. Including  videos of you using shock therapy on Aaidan,” Olivia threw back at him.

“Shock therapy is used to treat many illnesses, including depression, which your nephew has. Now if you’ll have your somewhat barbaric friend put him on the bed over there we’ll wheel him back up to his room where he’ll be more comfortable.” The doctor gestured to a gurney that had been pushed down by a tight-faced orderly.

“Marissa?” Oliva asked.

Marissa stepped forward, flipping through her stack of paperwork. “Custody of one Aaidan Delaney Winters is remanded to Olivia Brittney Franks. Any interruption of this change of custody shall be seen as direct disobeying of a court order and met with criminal charges.”

“That means get the fuck out of our way,” Jake said, pushing his way through.

Aaidan blinked around him at the faces that seemed to stop and move in weird motions. His pills were kicking in again. Everything spun, but at least the pressure on his lungs eased even as the brightness of the sky filled his vision. All he could see was the bright blue and a weird golden halo around Jake’s blond hair. Maybe this one was an angel, he thought briefly. Just as the world vanished and darkness took him down into a deep sleep.

~~~

Jake wished he’d brought his guitar or something other than his phone. When O had insisted on taking Aaidan to a specialist she trusted he could have just said he had something else to do. After all he’d just been there to help by playing the muscle. Olivia and Marissa had been sure they would meet opposition in removing the kid from the mental hospital. He’d thought they’d been exaggerating, but they’d been right. He knew his grungy rock appearance would make them nervous, though he didn’t consider himself a real tough guy and never spoke with his fists. Sometimes looking like the bag guy just helped. Though the kid’s question still threw him off. Are you an angel or a demon?

Did that mean the kid really was crazy?

He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Tomorrow he’d be working on the house, sanding the windowsills to get them ready for replacing the windows and repainting. Every couple of years he bought a house that needed some love, lived it in, fixed it up, then sold it and moved on. Six months ago he’d found the most beautiful place. Thought it might just be the forever home for him, after some intense cleaning and fixing of course. That was when he’d met the Franks. Nice ladies. Barbequed all the time and were genius’ at it.

Those many evenings sitting around the grill, sharing meat and sauce, he’d learned about their on going fight to save this kid, Olivia’s nephew, Aaidan Winters. Jake had gone so far as to look up old newspaper clippings about it. Apparently, at the age of twelve, he’d been caught with a neighbor boy and set off to one of those reprogramming camps. When that didn’t work his parents institutionalized him. Something you could only do in a handful of states and Tennessee was one of them. Olivia explained that Aaidan had been caught holding the other boy’s hand. Nothing overt, but apparently they’d all suspected for some time that the kid was gay. Still that was no reason to throw the kid away for life like his parents had.

Kid. Well, Jake supposed he wasn’t much of a kid anymore at twenty-two, but he could hardly think otherwise when the man probably weighed less than a hundred pounds and was barely over five feet tall. Stunted for life. Christ. What a mess. Yeah, he should have gone home. He just thought back to how different it could have been if his parents hadn’t accepted him.

Hell, he’d always been the trouble maker of the family. The second from the bottom of six kids, he was the musician, the tattoo freak, the one who hadn’t gone to college, and had revealed to his parents at sixteen that he was bi with a firm lean toward men. That was more than a decade and a half ago. Before people knew there was more to being gay than just liking men, or that being bi meant you weren’t set smack dab in the middle. His parents had given him more gruff over his first tattoo than his sexuality. Guess he should have been grateful. Some people really got the short end of the deal.

The door opened and the specialist stepped. Everyone jumped to their feet, even Jake who barely knew the kid. The woman’s face was drawn, tired, and a frown played the corner of her lips. Not a good sign.

“It’s bad then?” Olivia asked, running her hands through her brunette curls. Marissa gripped her other hand. “Is there anything we can do?”

“He’s extremely malnourished. You’ll have to ease him into a balanced diet, supplement a lot of vitamins. Nothing overly sweet or fatty, his body can’t take it right now. Broths, lean proteins, bland vegetables lower in fiber.” She pulled out a list and handed it over. “Here’s a list to start him off with. Introduce each level slowly, watch for reaction. I suspect he might even be gluten intolerant. Most of the foods mental hospitals offer are high in starch and carbs, over processed. He’s got hundreds of ulcers in his stomach and intestines. Could be from the medications, could be from an allergy, which would most likely be gluten. I did take a sample of his stomach lining and we’ll be testing it, but that will take a few days.”

“What about the medications he was on? Are there things we need to continue with?” Marissa asked.

“A lot of them are sleeping medications, anti-depressants, things to keep him loopy, or if he were volatile like they claim, to keep him calm. Taking him off shouldn’t make him too sick, but you may find he’s very sleepy for a few days.” She pulled out another chart. “His bone density worries me. Probably a prolonged lack of calcium. Something we see more often in third world countries than anything here in the USA. I would like to test his vitamin levels every month for the next few months until we can get him back to normal levels. However, I think the damage has been done. Right now his bones are pretty fail. No intense activities. A single fall could have him cracking a hip or breaking his spine.” She paused, then shook her head. “You know I deal in recovery of a lot of these type of patients, but this is going to be hard. Emotionally he’s still 12, is there a grown up locked in there somewhere? Probably. I’ll have Ellen schedule weekly at home visits with him. He’s likely not going to be up to leaving the house anytime soon.”

“What about a suicide watch?” Jake asked, ignoring the horrified looks on Olivia and Marissa’s faces. “He might not be strong enough to hang himself or even cut his own wrists with a knife, but he might be able to hurl himself down stairs or out a window. I know suicide is high for those who have been through one of these reprogramming things.” He had a friend for six months, came back after being reprogrammed only to lock himself in the garage with the car running a month later. “I’m just trying to be real here.”

“Mr. Rhoades has a valid point. I do recommend keeping Aaidan away from heights, or anything you think he could find to harm himself. Pills, razors, anything he might use to hang himself.  It sounds morbid, but it’s better to be safe until we can give him back the life that was stolen from him.” She motioned to the room. “You can take him home. I’ve got the nurses filling the vitamin prescriptions right now. You know how to give a shot, right? Giving him pills will only remind him of the asylum.”

Olivia nodded, “I can give him the shots.” She blinked back tears and headed into the room. Everyone followed and Jake couldn’t believe how small and frail the kid looked. And this is what hate did to people. How horrible.

Aaidan smiled faintly at him when Jake approached to pick him up again. “You’re back, Angel.”

“Sure am, Sunshine. Ready to go home? Hospitals of any kind are really not my thing.”

“Hmm.” Was all he replied before closing his eyes and seeming to fall back asleep again. Olivia and Marissa collected the medications and everyone headed out to the duo’s Hummer. Jake had thought it was an odd choice for the two when he first met them, since they were both fairly small, nonaggressive women who didn’t seem to flaunt their minor wealth. But they also coached little league, ran a division of brothers and sisters, headed a ton of Pflag events, and often had foster kids. The Hummer made sense because it had a lot of space and a get a hell out of their way attitude. Jake liked that about them.

The drive back to their neighborhood was a silent one filled only with random tunes from the local pop station.  Aaidan slept in Jake’s lap the whole time. He shivered once or twice, forcing Jake to dig out a blanket from the back and wrap him up. He vaguely wondered how many more kids were lost in these places. Who else had been thrown away? He sighed and prayed for the kid to have a fast recovery.

 

HiddenGemLGHidden Gem: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5376

coversmInheritance (Dominion book 1 rerelease): http://www.amazon.com/Inheritance-Dominion-Novel-Lissa-Kasey-ebook/dp/B00TA6BN9C/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1426864297&sr=8-1&keywords=inheritance+lissa+kasey

 

 

Lissa Kasey LogoBio: Lissa Kasey/Sam Kadence lives in St. Paul, MN, has a Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing, and collects Asian Ball Joint Dolls who look like her characters. She has three cats who enjoy waking her up an hour before her alarm every morning and sitting on her lap to help her write. She can often be found at Anime Conventions masquerading as random characters when she’s not writing about boy romance.

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Unfinished Beginnings by Lissa Kasey

It’s spring of a new year (officially today since it’s 3-20-15) and I’m planning for the year ahead. Most readers probably are only partially aware of the writing process and I thought I’d share a little of mine. See I’m really good at beginnings. I have tons of ideas and characters spinning around my head. But when I get to the middle or even worse—the end—I find myself running at a snail’s pace. It takes me longer to finish a book than to start one. I can write 40,000 words in a weekend so long as it’s character and world building, but get to the climax, relationship issues, and the final resolution and I’m lucky if I can get out 2,000 words a day.

I have some projects that need to be done this year, but I’m always open to starting new things or maybe pulling something out that was never finished and restarting. So I thought since I don’t have a lot scheduled for the next few weeks that I’d give you guys some samples and you could see if you wanted any of these more than others. They are all unedited and raw, far from being done. But I hope you enjoy the reading anyway. I’m going to post these once a week. Always something new. So enjoy

rob-thurman-v-temnote-ilustracni

 

Sam’s Story (Untitled Dominion 5) Chapter 1:

The cold night brushed against my skin with the sharp clarity of fresh needles as I walked through the bowels of downtown. It was the coldest winter in thirty years. I should have worn a heavier jacket but it’s not like I could freeze to death. I was already dead.

I flagged down a cab and had it take me to the edge of downtown St. Paul. My brain running on high gear—a million things flying through my head—just needed some time away from people. Shit that wouldn’t bother anyone else, but I had to meet Gabe, my mentor, at a club later and make nice with a stranger. Should probably show up for work for a few hours too. Though since Gabe was my boss he wasn’t likely to fire me if I didn’t.

I would rather have been out stalking the night. What was the point of being a vampire if I couldn’t be all dark and brooding when I wanted to anyway? That should be number one in the vampire rule book. If there was a rule book, which there wasn’t.

Not many wandered around downtown St. Paul at night, especially not in late February. There were drunks who shouted things that made no sense while they stumbled out of the bars. Homeless who hid in corners, buried in heaps of dirty clothes and praying they’d live through the frigid night air one more time. Prostitutes smiled, flirted then cursed when I ignored them. I’d grown up here. Riverside to be exact.

The multicolored high-rise towered over the Mississippi only a few miles from Gabe’s fancy condo but a millennia away in class. Living with eight brothers and sisters and my parents in a small two bedroom apartment had been a nightmare. Then I’d met Matthew, my first boyfriend and the first extreme fuckup of my life. I thought I’d found a way out. But false promises, abuse and heartbreak killed those dreams. The stain of what he’d done to me—made me do—covered me with a film that never washed away. It was worse than remembering the way Andrew Roman had fed on me over and over again like I was some auto refilling soda pop machine. I was something to kick and beat or feed on. Not a person.

Then there had been Caleb who had used me to get to Seiran. Because of course everyone wanted Seiran. He was beautiful, powerful, and perfect. I sighed. My track record was for shit. There had to be some giant bull’s-eye on my back that pulsed in neon red for only creeps to see. But I was done with all of that. Relationships, men, sex, the whole deal. I was dead now and no matter what the world at large thought, that just wasn’t sexy. Just because I could still get off didn’t mean I needed too.

The streets hadn’t changed much in the years that had passed since my hopeful escape. I wondered if my folks still lived in the same cramped apartment. Would they look at me and scream monster? Run away in terror? How had they ever survived in neighborhoods that ate at the weak like maggots on roadkill?

Footsteps echoed mine. I couldn’t help but smile as I fed my depression into the blood lust that plagued me from the moment I’d been reborn. They didn’t know the freak they were stalking could and would eat them for breakfast. Literally. I hadn’t eaten yet today.

I turned down an alley I knew had no outlet and slowed my pace, letting them follow like I was unwary prey. They would think they had me cornered, and an easy target. Two, maybe three—all bigger than me by the sound of their feet crunching the icy pavement—stalked me. The crunching of snow echoed in the dark cold as I closed my eyes and leaned against the building, letting them come to me.

“Hey, Chink! You’re in the wrong neighborhood.”

At least they’d gotten my heritage right. Maybe it was because they were Vietnamese themselves that they could tell. Not that it mattered. I’d eat them anyway, white, black, hell even purple. Everyone was on the menu.

You hear me, punk?” The leader demanded. The other two shouted and joked in a language I didn’t understand, but didn’t need to since I was sure it was taunts and insults.

I heard him all right. More than he could imagine. The pulsing of the first attacker’s blood ran excitedly through his veins, quickening his heart and making me lick my lips. He was aroused by the idea of beating the shit out of me, which would make my taking of him so much sweeter. He’d be first because the gush that always came from a surprise attack was the best. The other two might run, but this one would be mine.

Gabe hunted using sex appeal. He’d taught me how to seduce others, draw them close, feed and then fill them with memories of pleasure. I preferred something a little darker. Fear tasted better than pleasure because it was real. No false hopes or dreams were smashed to put it there, even if it soured the blood sometimes.

One of them slammed a bat against the wall near my head hard enough to shake ice from the side of the building. It shuffled around us in the eerie silence of the night, sliding to the ground and crackling like shattered glass. I waited. Let the hunger grow as they surrounded me, hearts racing, words an angry mash of sound. I didn’t need to see them to know how they moved or where they were. My own fears seeped away as I let the monster out. He was hungry and I was willing to let him go even if it were only for a few minutes. No death, I reminded my other self firmly before letting the red haze settle over my brain.

When I opened my eyes they gasped. I knew what they saw. The glowing red gaze of a true predator. Gabe had never shown me this side of himself—though I was sure he had it. All vampires did. Matthew lived in this state, which had probably driven him mad. Roman had only let the beast out in the end when rage tore away his control. I’d spent months perfecting the slip of self in secret—afraid my mentor wouldn’t approve and would cast me out. Only when I let go could I truly feel free.

I grabbed the first by the jacket, twisted the arm with the bat until a satisfying pop told me I’d broken his bone, and set my fangs to his neck all in one smooth move. With my arms wrapped around him, he didn’t even struggle against me. He just let me suck mouthful after mouthful of his hot blood. It stayed sweet a little longer, maybe because he was slow to realize his mistake or even too stupid to get that he’d just become the prey.

One of the others came at me, like he could help his friend. I kicked him away, landing a solid hit to his ribs that had him sliding back several feet then tumbling feet over head several times. Too much strength. I hope I hadn’t broken him by accident, but he shouldn’t have tried to interrupt a feeding. That was vampire intel 101. He struggled to his feet then turned to run for the entrance of the alley clutching his ribs like it hurt. Maybe I’d broken a few though I hadn’t heard the crack.

I licked the wound closed on the first and reached for the third who had yet to run. He stumbled backward, falling on his ass as he realized he should have run the second I took his friend. He reeked of fear.

Bloodlust was strong in the young. I could gorge myself on all of them and still not be satisfied. Their fear poured strong onto my tongue, a slightly bitter after taste telling me that I should move on to the next. But they had a lesson to learn and I was nowhere near full. I gave them memories of glowing eyes—the monster I was sure I was. This is what a vampire was meant to be. Not sex and beauty, but ugly and terrifying. Death wasn’t meant to be pretty.

The second disappeared around the corner as I let the third go and silently instructed them to head to a clinic nearby to tend any wounds. The first would need his arm set, but he wouldn’t start feeling that for a while yet. Not that it mattered to me. These three had been out looking for someone to harass. They’d made the mistake of choosing me. The third had pissed himself. At least I’d already let him go so he didn’t splash me. I hoped it froze to his dick and gave him frostbite. Maybe this little scare would make them think twice about harming someone else in the future.

I headed to the end of the alley determined to clean myself up and calm my heart before reaching the club where I was supposed to meet Gabe. He’d know I already fed. But I had to take the edge off. With my belly full I could think again. The rush of breath from my lungs formed a white mist that made me smile. For a few minutes I could almost feel normal. Perhaps that was the answer—gorge myself on blood until I felt human again. Only the lingering copper bite of pennies on my tongue reminded me that I’d just fed on the blood of a couple of thugs who six months ago would have beaten me to a pulp.

A shadow stepped into my path. Had the second come back? I almost ran into him when he didn’t move, but he was larger than any of the thugs had been. For a minute I thought he was Gabe who has somehow found me lurking in the nastiest areas of downtown. I’d never hear the end of it if he caught me roughing up ‘civilians.’

“You could use some polish, but not bad for an amateur.”

He was dark, not blond like Gabe. I looked him over, taking in the designer pants—pressed just perfectly—Burberry coat, navy in color, and chiseled face, strong chin with dark stubble. His eyes, a warm brown, were lined with thick black lashes. Dark hair, curled just slightly, fell around his ears and across his forehead. Damn but I was a sucker for tall, dark, and handsome. It was what drew me to Matthew and Andrew Roman. This guy had trouble stamped all over him.

The stranger reached out to slowly drag his thumb over the edge of my lips. In the pale light of the street lamps I saw he drew away a bit of blood. I was usually neater than that. He didn’t seem bothered and in fact licked his thumb then sucked on it briefly. “Thugs do have a certain vintage.”

My cock hardened making my pants too tight. It’d been a long time since that happened. Shit, who was this guy? Couldn’t be human. No human would willingly lick the blood of some random person off a stranger’s face. “Who the fuck are you?” I demanded. Gabe had introduced me to every vampire in the cities. He informed me it was so no random vampire would kill me for being rogue because they didn’t recognize me. I figured it was more so I knew who was a potential enemy. Not everyone liked the fact that Gabe was setting up a nest and calling all his old buddies home.

“You may have heard of me, Sam. I’m Maxwell Hart. Call me Max please. We never got to formally meet while you were visiting Los Angeles. Though I know you were there with your master. I would have loved to spend some time with you. See how your transition to our world is coming along.”

Right before Christmas Seiran had gone to California to learn more about his dad. Maxwell Hart had been there, introduced himself to Seiran before Gabe and I arrived. In fact, Sei said Max had been a part of the Ascendence—the ruling body of male witches—killing other witches to steal power and make more powerful male witches. Only when it came down to it, Max had handed over his power over the institution to Sei asking that the earth Pillar fix the corruption of the organization. Sei still didn’t know why. He said many times that Max was scary powerful. Maybe even stronger than Gabe. I didn’t have Sei’s witch powers. I was just an amplifier. Plug me into a witch and we could make crazy trouble. But on my own I didn’t know Houdini from Cris Angel. Hell, I couldn’t recognize another vampire when I met one unless he bit into someone in front of me. Or apparently licked the blood off of me. “Does Gabe know you’re in town?”

He shook his head slightly. “I have not presented myself to him formally. However,” he gestured to the darkened street around us. “Walk with me?” I nodded, whatever, and fell instep beside him. “I’ve not breached any protocols yet. I’m on the west side. He’s claimed the east. The west is yet unclaimed. Odd since it’s such a big city.”

I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting the west side as it was mostly abandoned warehouses and homeless. Gabe didn’t have enough vampires to claim the east side, but the Tri-Mega demanded he begin building a nest since he had a focus now. “So you’re planning on claiming the west side? Not much here, you know. Maybe Minneapolis would be a better option for you.”

He shrugged. “You probably know the area better than I. Though I think Gabe and I do not much run in the same circles. We are both business men, but my businesses aren’t as nice as his.”

“Bars really aren’t that nice. Lots of drunk assholes.” I followed along with him wondering if he’d sought me out to try to get something out of Gabe. Sure hurting me would piss off my mentor, but Max would be better off fearing the witch than the vampire. Sei was sort of possessive and convinced he had to be my friend no matter how many times I’d beaten the shit out of him or tried to kill him. Some people are just gluttons for punishment. “Gabe won’t let you break the law here. The Tri-Mega has sort of put him as defacto leader around here. They hold him responsible for everything.” Which was stupid and unfair, but he didn’t really have a choice. One man couldn’t control one city by himself and technically Gabe had two since Minneapolis was just as empty of vampires as the west side of St. Paul. Maybe vampires didn’t like the cold. It was a lot of layers to peel off of prey, but I didn’t mind.

“What makes you think what I’m doing is illegal?”

“The whole Ascendance killing witches thing.”

Max nodded and sighed. “I suppose that makes sense.” He checked his watch. “I’m actually headed over to look at a new business adventure. Since no humans are allowed there are a different set of rules and legalities don’t much apply to the other among us with the norms.”

I’d been to my share of nonhuman clubs. They were a lot like watching snow—fascinating for the first few minutes—and then just more of the same. A lot went on in those places: drugs, sex and blood for sale. None of which I needed, but I was curious. I did like watching other monsters if just to prove that I wasn’t all alone. “Just for a few minutes.”

“Understood. Feel free to leave whenever you’d like. I would hope we can become friends. Maybe I can become a backup if you need help or advice of the vampire kind. Should your mentor be unavailable of course.” He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Call any time.”

I took it and stuffed it into my coat, wondering if he really meant it. “If you’re looking for someone to help you get at Sei or Gabe, I’m not your guy.” I told him honestly. “They’ve been good to me. Even when I’m a total shit. I won’t invite you into their house, or try to get them to meet with you, and if you don’t want the witch to turn you inside out and feed your innards to the nearest tree you’re better off leaving me in one piece.”

Max laughed, strong and hearty, throwing back his head. He stopped a moment later and shook his head at me. “No mincing words, eh? I have no use for those sorts of games, Gabe or his focus. My plans are larger and involve only vampires.” He shrugged, “And for the moment—shifters.” He led me down an alley where a brawny man stood at a non-descript door. He nodded to Max, barely spared me a glance, and opened the door for us.

“I assure you, my interest in you is purely curiosity.”

“About what?”

“Your power and how it’s slipped through the cracks.”

I shrugged. “Not Dominion born. So I couldn’t tell you where it comes from. No one in my family has anything like it.”

Max nodded. I followed him down a long hallway and to another door. He opened this one and the noise hit me first. Cheering, shouting, and the smack of flesh hitting flesh. Not the soft slap like porn. No this was bone hitting muscle wrapped bone. The door closed behind us, blocking me in with the echoing thud of a body hitting the ground in the distance. What the fuck?

Max proceeded forward through a far doorway. As I moved closer the smell of sweat and drying blood wafted toward me strong enough to almost be visible. If there was one thing I hated about being a vampire, it was that everything smelled so awful. And this place stank.

The room was cavernous. A warehouse converted into a fighting room. Cages spread out across the open space with wire bolted to the ground and looping all the way to the ceiling over a concrete slab. Everyone moved to cluster around a new fight that seemed to just be starting in the back corner.

“Just in time for the final fight of the night,” Max said. He smiled at me. “If you ever feel the blood lust getting to you, come here and the smell with kill it fast enough. Shifters stink, though their blood tastes all right. Not as good as witch blood, but better than those punks in the alley.”

The stench made me a little queasy. I hadn’t blown blood chunks since the first night of my change and wasn’t going to do it now. “It’s really awful.” I didn’t think I could get past the stink to try tasting a shifter. Did they all smell that bad?

No one noticed us as we stepped in close to the last cage. I moved around to the edge, away from the others in case I needed to bolt. Had to breathe slowly to filter out the smell. Not like I had to breathe, it was just habit. But, God, the smell. Wet dog, only worse. Gross.

Inside the wire ring something that looked like a muscled up version of a horror movie wolfman stood flexing his semi-furry arms and throwing spittle from his elongated snout. He wore nothing. His oddly bald sex hanging large and heavy between his legs, showing arousal. Maybe the fight got him off like that guy in the alley? His hands curled in a mix of human and wolf with long sharp talons and his legs hunched, bent wrong like a dog. Nothing about him was appealing. I wondered where all the romanticism with shifters came from. In comparison a witch who changed flawlessly like Seiran, Jamie, or Kelly was so much more beautiful. Perhaps it was magic that made the difference. Science could only make humanity uglier, but magic—that was a dark beauty that created some of the most heavenly and devilish things in the universe.

A man moved across the ring, yanking off his shirt and pulling on a pair of boxing gloves. I couldn’t imagine how they’d help him against the shifter. He looked scrawny compared the hulking, fur-covered monster across from him. He couldn’t be human though, since Max said this was a non-human event. Fight clubs for supes. The gambling portion of it probably made it as illegal as hell. The man in the corner with fists full of money probably worked for Max. But local law enforcement wouldn’t care. So long as none of the norms were hurt, they’d turn a blind eye.

“Who’s the human looking guy in the ring?” I asked Max. “He’s not really human, right?”

“Not hardly,” Max replied. “Almost vampire, but not quite.”

Was that even possible? But the man was handsome enough, broad in the shoulders, medium brown hair, and just the slightest of red haze to his eyes. A vampire then. The bell ran and the fight began. I didn’t watch. The beautiful man would fight the beast. Would he live or die? Did it matter? We were all monsters here. I turned away overwhelmed by my depression again. I was just like them, wasn’t I? I may not look so scary on the outside, but the monster inside had claws just as sharp and bigger fangs.

I made my way out, sucking in the deep cold air.

“No one dies,” Max told me, having followed me out. “At least not often. Accidents do happen.”

“I don’t want to be just another monster,” I told him.

His smile was sad and somewhat self-mocking. “But we are. Aren’t we? I do a lot just to feel. You’re young. You still pulse with emotion. What you saw inside scared you, depressed you, and yet excited you. I long for all of that.”

Was that all I had to look forward to? An eternity searching for emotion? “I don’t want to be like that.” It was probably rude to say so, but the truth. “Empty.”

“Happens to all of us in time. We live so long the world kills us from the inside out.”

“Are you looking for a way to die, Max?” I had to ask. Gabe mentioned before he’d been nothing but a walking corpse before he’d met Seiran. Max probably wasn’t any younger.

“Looking for a way to live, my young friend. Call if you need me. I can show you things that Gabe would not dare.”

Because Gabe was one of the good guys and Max was just fire I’d already burnt myself with twice. “Thanks,” was all I offered as I headed back out into the night. It was getting late and I had to get to the club before midnight. Gabe expected me to meet with the cibo I’d approved before the night was over.

I stopped at a gas station to clean up. The attendant didn’t say anything about the bottle of water and chewing gum I bought. Though he did give me the stink eye when I asked for the bathroom key. Did he think I was gonna camp out in the crapper for the night? I would rather have found a dumpster to sleep behind.

When I stepped inside the stink nearly had me hurling again. Did they ever clean this place? I went to the sink and washed my face, taking time to scrub away small bits of blood spatter. The hunger must have been bad to make me so messy. At least my shirt and jacket were still clean. I could only imagine what it would be like to go meet the cibo with some other guy’s blood on me. Sort of like paying for a second whore when the come of the first still stained the skin.

The mirror made me look so ordinary. And I’d fed so the my eyes wouldn’t turn red even if I willed them too for at least a few more hours. Though I did try. Sometimes I let the monster out and just stared at him for hours. It still shocked me when I’d fall out of a weird trance and find only myself in the mirror.

I popped a half dozen pieces of gum. The strong cinnamon of it would kill any lingering blood, but it burned my tongue. The stuff was nasty, but it was the one thing that Gabe swore by that I always used.

I made my way to the club hoping that the guy I’d spoken to online a couple dozen times wasn’t some clingy jerk who wanted to be my vampire groupie. Gabe wanted me to have a regular blood source. I didn’t care either way. The last thing I needed was someone fragile that wanted me to be his savior. I was no one’s hero dammit. No matter what Gabe and Sei tried to convince me of most days. I was okay being the bad guy. At least the role fit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HiddenGemLG

 

 

 

 

Hidden Gem: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5376

coversmInheritance (Dominion book 1 rerelease): http://www.amazon.com/Inheritance-Dominion-Novel-Lissa-Kasey-ebook/dp/B00TA6BN9C/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1426864297&sr=8-1&keywords=inheritance+lissa+kasey

 

 

Lissa Kasey LogoBio: Lissa Kasey/Sam Kadence lives in St. Paul, MN, has a Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing, and collects Asian Ball Joint Dolls who look like her characters. She has three cats who enjoy waking her up an hour before her alarm every morning and sitting on her lap to help her write. She can often be found at Anime Conventions masquerading as random characters when she’s not writing about boy romance.

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Armchair Winter Sports by L.M. Somerton

As a nation, England is not renown for its prowess at Winter sports. We’ve managed to produce a few spectacular figure skaters and one very bad ski-jumper in the past. At the Winter Olympics, we become part of Great Britain so that Scotland can win us some curling medals and in Sochi 2014 we also pulled off a gold in the skeleton and a bronze in the snowboarding. That put us lower down the medals table than… well virtually everyone! So when the lovely Christy invited me to do a Winter Sports post for Lissa’s blog I was at a bit of a loss.

Personally I can’t skate, ski or snowboard. I have less natural balance than a tightrope-walking hippopotamus. I loathe snow and fully expect to land face down every time I set foot on an icy patch. Winter sport for me is lobbing the occasional snowball. So why is it that some of my favourite films are about sports I can’t do and have no intention of ever learning?

I can hear all my friends yelling, “You just like to watch fit men in lycra”, and I confess… that does have some appeal *grins*, but actually one film I’ve watched several times is about ice hockey and the men in that wear so much padding you can’t tell what shape they are at all. I’m showing my age when I put Youngblood at the top of my list. Any film that features Rob Lowe and Patrick Swayze has to be good in my book. It has the whole bromance, heroic triumph over adversity thing going on, which I love and for those of you who know it, that scene with the jockstrap coloured my opinion of men’s underwear forever.

Next up is Cool Runnings, the story of the Jamaican bobsleigh team. This one never fails to make me laugh and cry (and there’s plenty of lycra in it too). What makes it even better is that it’s based on a remarkable true story and like all Brits, I’m a sucker for underdogs everywhere.

The sadist in me (and for those of you who have read my books, this is not going to be a huge surprise) loves all those films with scenes of gorgeous men being pushed to their physical limits. I think I’m a trope addict because these films are so formulaic you can lay out the plot without even watching them. So last up is Miracle, a 2004 film starring Kurt Russell. Based on the true story of “the greatest moment in sports history” (as long as you’re American), this follows the USA Men’s Ice Hockey team as they face the Russians at the 1980 Olympics.

So while all you energetic types are out there playing in the snow, I much prefer to be in front of the fire watching a movie and drinking hot chocolate (with marshmallows of course). So who would join me and what would you like to watch? I’ll bring the popcorn…

Author bio:

L M Somerton lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.

She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She’s fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.

Links

http://lmsomerton.wordpress.com

http://www.facebook.com/lmsomerton

http://pinterest.com/lmsomerton

https://www.amazon.com/author/lmsomerton

Twitter: @lmsomerton

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Winter Sports by Kate Sherwood

I’m Canadian. When someone talks about winter sports, I think about hockey. As an author, I’ve got an m/m novella centered around a hockey team and an upcoming three book series of YA romance also centered around a hockey team. Winter sport? Hockey. (Ice Hockey, for those of you who live in places where there’s another kind.)

But maybe that was a bit too obvious. Writing is about stretching yourself, right? So I thought maybe I should write about a different sport, and I remembered how much I love the Winter Olympics. Yeah, okay, the big ticket event is the hockey, but my favorite part about the Olympics is how it makes people care about every sport, even the obscure ones. Luge? I only hear about luge once every four years, but for those few days of caring, I care a lot. I’ve been in sports bars where every person there, including the staff, exploded in excitement after a particularly stirring bit of luging. (Yes, that’s the right word – I looked it up!)

Same goes for cross-country skiing, speed skating (short and long track!), curling, biathlon… they’re all fascinating, once every four years.

But is intermittent, short-lived fascination what winter sports are really all about? I don’t do any of those sports, and most of them I don’t even want to try. What do I do? I ride horses in the winter, and it can be magical on a crisp, windless day, with the horse’s hooves tossing up little explosions of powder, his breath frosting as he snorts. But most days it’s just cold and slippery, and I don’t really enjoy it as much as riding in other seasons, so it seems like a bit of a cheat to call that a winter sport. What do I do just in the winter?

I shovel snow. Lots of snow. I gave in a few years ago and hired a guy to snow-blow my driveway, but he doesn’t do the walkway or the little edges of things, he doesn’t do a path out to the bird feeders, he doesn’t clear off my deck so I can do a little mid-winter grilling. So I shovel. A sport? Well, it definitely takes fitness—there’s a spot in my lower back that I am completely unaware of all year long, right up until I have to start shovelling the white stuff. Enjoyment? Well, I don’t have fun while it’s happening, but I get a certain sense of satisfaction when it’s done—I bet that’s all the Olympic cross-country skiers can say for their sport. Fun to watch? I would absolutely rather watch someone shovel than do it myself, so maybe that counts.

What other winter sports do I take part in? Helping little kids get into snowsuits can be an absolute workout, of patience as well as physical flexibility. The vigorous arm-waving and contortions I go through when walking on icy ground must certainly test my balance and skills, and my hand muscles are well-exercised when I white-knuckle drive through a snowstorm.

My favorite winter sport, though? Fire building. The workout of carrying the logs inside, the technique of building the kindling and adding wood, and then the flexibility involved in stretching out on the couch, cat on my lap and dog at my feet, to enjoy the dancing flames? A good book, a glass of red, maybe some popcorn if I’m feeling ambitious. That’s the kind of sport I can get behind, and it’s definitely one that’s better in the winter!

~ Kate Sherwood

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