Blissmas 2014

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Sommer (time Blues)

Make with the clickie, donate some assistance for Sommer Marsden, one of my favorite writers, who is going through a really tough time right now...

If you can help, please do. If not, read around these blogs and check out the hot kisses (snogs - is it just me or does the British slang for making out sound more like a fluffy little monster than a kiss?) and spread the word...

Tweet or Facebook

Snog for Sommer! Enjoy the excerpts, win prizes and donate to help @sommer_marsden and family fight cancer! http://ht.ly/Ao8Lv

So, here's your Snog for today, a preview from Blues, sequel to my best-selling New Adult LGBT novel, Roll, which will be published in March, 2015...


Beau drew his lover into his arms, into a tight embrace. Vin's heart was frantic under Beau's fingertips, even through a jacket and vest and t-shirt, loud and anxious and throbbing. Beau ran his fingers through Vin's hair, product-perfect waves of highlighted medium brown. Vin smelled of fancy shampoo, cologne, smoke, and coffee. A rich, masculine scent that never failed to stir the swirl of wanting in Beau's belly.

"You know that I love you, right?" Vin said, his voice muffled against Beau's throat, breath warm. Beau was somewhat taller than his boyfriend, rested his chin on Vin's head, pulling him closer into the embrace, feeling the cold of the truck's side against his back where his shirt had rucked up.

"I know." And Beau did know that.

Vin tilted his head up and Beau kissed his forehead, the flat planes of each cheek. Vin opened his mouth, inhaled. Beau slid one hand around Vin's lower back, pulled him closer, the other hand going up to cup his chin, hold that teasing, torturous mouth just where he wanted it, thumb caressing the stubled skin of Vin's cheek. He descended on Vin's mouth, tasting the sweet flavor of tobacco. Soft kisses, easy and light, not giving in to Vin's wordless demands to thrust his tongue in. Nuzzling, play kisses, meant to drive his lover wild with wanting, until they were both so spun up in each other that nothing else mattered.

He couldn't hold out as long as he'd wanted; Ann-Marie's grief had upset him and Vin wasn't the only one who wanted some sort of reassurance. He deepened the kiss, his tongue plundering the depths of Vin's mouth, tasting, exploring, and then just plain fucking Vin's mouth with his own. The mingled sound of their harsh breathing, air rushing in and out of their lungs, was erotic and close. He could feel the cool exhale against his ear and throat. Beau slid his hand down, worked the thin t-shirt out of Vin's jeans, put both hands beneath to hold and grip that firm skin, caressing and eager. Vin reached up, grabbed a handful of Beau's hair and yanked, bringing a tingle of pain across Beau's scalp. He slid one thigh between Beau's, his cock hard and hot against Beau's leg.

Vin was eager, hurried. His hands cupped the back of Beau's neck, slid down his chest, found the buttons on his shirt and slid one out of the placket.

Beau shivered as cold air rushed in to fill the void, down along his chest and across his belly. His skin erupted in gooseflesh. "Jesus, it's cold out here," he muttered into Vin's ear.

"So?" Vin's clever, quick fingers found Beau's belt buckle and worked it, rubbing the heel of his hand against Beau's groin. The temptation of that hand was too much. Beau let his head loll back against the truck's window, staring up at the stars. Vin opened up Beau's fly, his fingers pressed inside, seeking, searching, finding. Oh, God.

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I'm offering a copy of Roll to people who comment, plus - and here's the really nice bit - you will get an ADVANCED COPY of Blues to read before anyone else can! So, comment. Donate. Help out one of the best smut writers EVER...

(You do not have to donate to win... just comment. Those who donate and say so will get an extra entry... As a note, 6.15 pounds is ~$10 US. Paypal will do these calculations for you.)

Gratitude

About 18 months ago, I went to a writer's workshop at our local sci-fi con (MarsCon... which is awesome and if you are local, you should totally go!)

At that time, I'd just gotten notified that On the Fly was going to be picked up for publication, so I had three stories accepted; Golden Moment, Shadows of Kenfig, and On the Fly. Not many. Certainly not enough that I considered myself a professional writer.

(I have since been informed - rather tartly -  that I became a "professional" the moment someone paid me to write. So, there's that.)

Anyway, I attended two writer's workshops that weekend, one for hooking your reader with a good opening paragraph or two, and the other for scene setting. Allen Wold, his daughter Darcy, and Danny Birt were among the panel members who were offering their advice.

I wrote two paragraphs. (I cannot find the original draft with my notes on it from the seminar, but rest assured, it was pretty rough.)

"Do you know, Jamison," Duncan Farnsworth, Earl Leveret said as he stripped off his gloves and deposited them in his hat, "what the absolute worst thing is about being dead?" The sun was skimming the horizon. Another few minutes and he might have had some unpleasantness. Jamison closed the heavy door behind his master and Duncan shuddered with relief. 

"I fear you are about to tell me, sir," his butler replied, entirely uninterested.

"It is simply this; being deceased has done nothing to improve the quality of my social engagements." 

"Perhaps, sir," Jamison said, ushering his lord into the parlor and folding the rain-damp coat over one arm, "you should lay down and play dead with slightly more conviction."

Those starting paragraphs went on to become the beginning of my soon-to-be-published short-story, Synchronous Rotations. (Which will be out July 3rd, from Torquere press.)

Synch is the 3rd of my London Steam saga (started with Shadow of Kenfig and continuing in The Blister Effect) but it stands alone better than Blister Effect did. I've also learned to Make Sure that the fact that it's a continuation story is in the marketing materials. Blister Effect did not do as well as I'd hoped, probably because the only review for it, the reader was fairly confused.

In a reimagined 1890's London, where steam-driven airships rule the skies and monsters roam the streets, Duncan Farnsworth is discovering that being a vampire is not exactly good for his chances of finding love, continuing the family line, or getting a bite to eat. Maneuvering his way around a sarcastic butler, his spinster sister, a run-in with an amorous werewolf, and finally confronted by a dead soldier and a French airship captain, Duncan finally finds exactly what he is thirsting for.

Continuing in the story-line begun in the Shifting Steam anthology, and continued in The Blister Effect, Synchronous Rotations takes a look at another player in that infamous card game, Duncan Farnsworth. If you like your steampunk with a little supernatural on top, Synchronous Rotations should wind you right up.

I sent both Allen and Danny quick emails today letting them know that I had been very well benefited by the seminars.

[sic]... congratulations. News like that assures me that it's worth while to continue with my workshop. I'll be doing it again next year, as I do it at other places as well. But you're on your way to not needing it any more. More stories, more stories! -- Allen Wold