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Author Guest Post

A Model Escort by Amanda Meuwissen: Exclusive Author Guest Post

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TCO is very excited to have Amanda Meuwissen on the blog today, in celebration of her newest book, A Model Escort, talking about her favorite TV shows. I’ll admit I haven’t seen a couple of these show, but with all the snow that Minneapolis has gotten this winter (I live in the Twin Cities too!), I can absolutely see hunkering down and binge watching a few of these. What are your favorites? Congrats to Amanda on her latest release!

What’s the value of love?

Shy data scientist Owen Quinn is brilliant at predictive models but clueless at romance. Fortunately, a new career allows him to start over hundreds of miles from the ex he would rather forget. But the opportunity might go to waste since this isn’t the kind of problem he knows how to solve. The truth is, he’s terrible at making the first move and wishes a connection didn’t have to revolve around sex.

Cal Mercer works for the Nick of Time Escort Service. He’s picky about his clients and has never accepted a regular who is looking for companionship over sex—but can the right client change his mind? And can real feelings develop while money is changing hands? Owen and Cal might get to the root of their true feelings… if their pasts don’t interfere.

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Top Five Currently Running TV Shows

As an author, it’s no surprise that I was a voracious reader as a child—and that I spend time every single day either reading or writing something. But that in no way means I’m not also a lover of visual mediums like TV and film.

In fact, I created my second major in college combining my favorite things about creative writing, theater, and film to look at the nature of adaptation and what causes a story to be told differently depending on its medium.

There are so many outlets for consuming TV now, most of which have nothing to do with a normal network. Regardless of where I can find my favorite shows, there are some similar things I look for, namely, a good story, good characters, and unique takes on old tropes.

So here are my top five currently running TV shows (or serials on streaming services) and why I love them.

The Good Place

To be fair, I didn’t start watching this NBC show until season 1 was on Netflix, which I then binged, and have been keeping up with it ever since. This is a half-hour sitcom that I kept hearing about (thankfully, without spoilers) and decided to give chance. 5 episodes in a row later, I realized I needed to show my husband and stop watching it without him.

The show takes a humorous look at both the afterlife and moral philosophy, and while I can’t go into much detail, since spoilers abound, the creator describes what success looks like best, asking with each episode:

  1. Is it funny?
  2. Are the characters being developed?
  3. Does the episode ask and answer a question about ethics?
  4. Is it compelling?
  5. Is it consistent with the long game?
  6. Are we making use of the premise?

Those specific questions aren’t relevant to every story, but they create an important template for how every writer should look at their progression.

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

An Amazon original, this is an hour-long comedic drama that carries a lot of the charm of a sitcom while never skimping on tough topics.

This show pulls you in and keeps every character so robust, you can’t find fault with it. Set in the late 1950s, the setting and costumes can be just as much a star of the show, but it never leans too much on historical context or real-life people, because the original content and characters shine the brightest.

If someone told me I’d one day love a show about a 50s housewife turned standup comic, I doubt I would have believed it, but this show lives up to all its hype.

The Haunting of Hill House

Now for a Netflix original. Again, hour-long, but this is nothing like the comedic series I’ve addressed so far. This is horror drama at its best. It strikes a unique balance of storytelling between characters and also different versions of those characters because we jump between past and present, seeing both child and adult versions of the main family.

A fault with a lot of horror in visuals mediums today is overuse of jump scares without atmosphere. This series will still make you jump, but it gets under your skin in the best way, while also telling very touching and emotional vignettes and ending in a way that I think a lot of horror shies from.

It’s just refreshing that, despite being horror, I was left with the most amazing sense of catharsis. Stories come to their natural conclusions when told well. Not everything needs to be 10 seasons or 7 books long.

Brooklyn 99

I guess I’m in a laughing mood a lot lately, because here’s another sitcom, this one originally on Fox and now on NBC as one of several shows to hit a new trend of fans saving their favorite stories by petitioning when they’re about to be cancelled until another network or service picks them up.

In this case, having watched it on both Fox and NBC, I can say that nothing has been lost or changed from switching networks (which can’t be said for predecessor Supergirl that moved from CBS to The CW).

Like The Good Place, this show manages to by uniquely funny with a wonderfully diverse cast, and never disappoints, often surprising you with how much heart it has. Comedy does not mean easy or simple or lesser, something I’m glad we’re seeing more of these days.

Lucifer

Yep, yet another show nearly cancelled that was picked up by someone else – this time from Fox to Netflix, which is still upcoming as its slated for its season 4 Netflix release later this year.

It’s rare that I have a show I cannot miss when it airs, but this was a first where that remained true through three seasons. Some of my favorite shows had really strong seasons 1 and 2 and then declined in quality (Supernatural, The Flash), but Lucifer never once disappointed me or had a dud of an episode.

It’s drama, action, humor, romance, but even more than the fun premise of having sympathy for the Devil himself is the focus on friendships. Between women, men, across genders, across ages and species, always over the romance angle. It’s also a cast of entirely 35+ for the main characters.

I daresay, Lucifer is a flawless show, and I hope its switch to Netflix doesn’t mar its perfection.

Amanda Meuwissen is a primarily gay romance writer, as well as Marketing Operations Manager for the software company Outsell. She has a Bachelor of Arts in a personally designed major from St. Olaf College in Creative Writing, and is an avid consumer of fiction through film, prose, and video games. As author of the paranormal romance trilogy The Incubus Saga, young adult novel Life as a Teenage Vampire, the novelette The Collector, and superhero duology Lovesick Gods and Lovesick Titans, Amanda regularly attends local comic conventions for fun and to meet with fans, where she will often be seen in costume as one of her favorite fictional characters. She lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her husband, John, and their cat, Helga, and can be found at www.amandameuwissen.com.

Pros & Cons Series by AE Wasp: Exclusive Guest Post, Blog Tour and Giveaway

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There’s nothing like being blackmailed by a dead man to really bring a group of cons together. And what a group we are: a hacker, a thief, a con artist, a thug, and a Federal agent with an axe to grind. The deal is simple, we do the jobs and Charlie’s lawyer wipes the slate clean for each of us, one at a time.

Since job number one calls for some muscle, it looks like I’m up first. I’m Steele Alvarez, ex-Special Forces Close Protection Specialist (aka, a bodyguard for some not so nice guys).

After learning what the job is — taking down a seemingly untouchable senator with a penchant for beating up young male prostitutes — I’m in. No questions. A bullet ought to do the trick.

Then I met Senator Harlan’s latest victim: Breck Pfeiffer, the gorgeous hooker with a heart of gold and the soul of a fighter.  One look at him and I’m gone. That kid laid me out harder than any punch ever did. I’ll do anything to protect Breck, even kill for him. But Breck doesn’t want the senator dead, he wants vengeance.

If we’re going to find a way bring down the slimebag and get the blackest mark on my record erased, I’m going to need all the help I can get.

Like it or not, we’re all in this together.

BOOK 1

Book Title: Pros & Cons of Vengeance

Author: A.E. Wasp

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Angsty G

Genre/s: MM Romantic Suspense

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: approx 83,000 words/ 331 pages

Release Date: January 18, 2019

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It is a standalone story

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Mapping out a series – pantser or plotter?

Having jumped into my third series with Pros & Cons (First was Veterans Affairs, then Hot Off the Ice) I’d say a combination of both. I’m pantsing the series arcs and specific details but I like to have a nice outline before I start writing the individual books.

My outlines are basically my first drafts. I start with bullet points and just go up and down the outline expanding things and thinking.

But the series just kind of…happen. Sometimes I know who the next pairing will be, sometimes I don’t. In Paper Hearts, in the Veterans Affairs series, I was writing a scene and realize, oh man, these other two characters, who I’d had zero intention of hooking up, had been hooking up behind my back the entire book. Writing their book, Bronze Star, was frustrating because I had to write around the events I had already set in motion and the actions I had had those two guys do in all the previous books1

Pros & Cons has the most fully thought-out series arc. I started thinking about the idea around Christmas and quickly realized that it would a five-book series with each character getting their own book. I had a vague idea of the characters and the feel of the books and where I wanted the entire series to end up, but that’s about it. I’m not even 100% sure what I’m doing for book three, Pros & Cons of Desire. I know who it’s about and there are elements I want to put into it. But I’m not even sure of the ending!

Sometimes I throw in lines as I’m writing like “His parents had met on a Disney cruise when they were twenty five” and I don’t even really notice I’m doing it. Series continuity is very hard for me! If anyone is looking for a job, I know authors could really use someone to do book bibles for our series!

I’m trying, with Pros & Cons, to be more deliberate with what I say and to keep track of those details because I know that I will be using the same characters for all the books. I’m loving that aspect of it. It gives me a chance to build these characters over a series of books instead of trying to cram everything about them into one book. If there are questions say about Wesley’s (in Pros & Cons of Deception) family, I don’t have to answer them right now. It can come out at a more natural time.

Thank Christ someone had been bright enough to leave the air conditioning on in Charlie’s mansion. Dead men paid no electric bills, I guess. Fucking Florida.I’d been gone too long and had somehow forgotten how truly miserable the humidity could be. Sure, it could hit a hundred and fifteen outside of Baghdad, but it was dry heat.

I thought about taking off my suit, or at least my tie, but until I knew what the hell was going on here, I wasn’t going to let my guard down.

Besides, I looked good in a suit.

“Nice house, huh?” Wesley said from my behind me, as I was busy assessing the layout of the house and cataloging any possible pinch points. Like I said, I didn’t know what I was doing here, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

“I’ve seen bigger.” In my most recent incarnation as close protection specialist and hired muscle to some very rich and very bad men, I’d been in mansions that made this place look like a pool house. Not that this place sucked. Not at all. The cabin I’d grown up in could have fit in the foyer with room left over.

We followed Ms. Miranda Bosley, Charlie’s attorney, single-file down the tiled hallway of the big house like a line of ducklings. Wesley was the only guy I knew and consequently the only one in the group I trusted enough to walk behind me. Even Ms. Bosley looked like she wouldn’t hesitate to stab me in the kidney if she felt she needed to.

Seeing Wes at the funeral had been a surprise. A quick, stilted conversation had revealed that he was here for the same reason I was – we were both being blackmailed by Charlie.

I couldn’t imagine what Charlie had on the kid. I’d only worked with Wes twice before, but he was more a gray hat than a black hat hacker; the kind of person who didn’t mind doing the wrong things for the right reasons. A cross between MacGyver and Anonymous, the kid had probably been on an FBI watch list since he was twelve.

Wesley had triggered my protective instincts from our first meeting, but he’d never really needed much help beyond muscle. Sure he could take of himself with that jujitsu or whatever, but sometimes some people just needed their faces punched, and I was more than happy to do that for him. It was satisfying.

Now Angel-Face, as I’d taken to calling the gorgeous blond kid who’d been sitting a few rows ahead of me at the graveside ceremony, hetriggered other instincts in me. Made me think things I probably shouldn’t be thinking at a funeral. But then again, Angel-Face hadn’t seemed exactly consumed with grief either. I hadn’t been completely surprised to see him following Miranda after the funeral along with Wes and me. Very interesting. What had that choir boy done to be in such bad company at such a young age?

There’s nothing like being blackmailed by a dead man to really bring a group of cons together. And what a group we are: a hacker, a thief, a con artist, a thug, and a Federal agent with an axe to grind. The deal is simple, we do the jobs and Charlie’s lawyer wipes the slate clean for each of us, one at a time.

I’m Bond. Wesley Bond. (I can’t resist saying it that way. Blame my dad, if you can find him.) You could call me a hacker. I redistribute wealth – moving it from rich slimebags to poorer but infinitely more deserving people – and make a tidy profit as I do.  My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to bring down some modern-day slave traders.

I definitely choose to accept it.

With the life of the one person in this world I love on the line, I can’t afford any screw ups or distractions. Unfortunately, my biggest distraction is also my biggest asset – Danny Monroe.  Danny is a leftover complication from our first job; a victim of the vicious senator we’d gotten locked up. He’s a smart, funny, gorgeous, ex-prostitute, who can’t seem to keep his clothes on. I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut around him. But I need a fake boyfriend, and Danny is the only option.

Fooling the world into thinking we’re in love will be easy; fooling myself that I’m not might be impossible.

BOOK 2

Book Title: Pros & Cons of Deception

Author: A. E. Wasp

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Angsty G

Genre/s:  MM Romantic Suspense

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length:   80,000 words/ 300 pages

Release Date: March 1, 2019

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Amazon UK

“Hey, can anyone explain why my shirt drawer is empty?” Ridge Pfeiffer demanded, appearing on the patio where the rest of our little band had congregated. Our resident retrievals expert (read: thief) was naked from the waist up and scowling beneath his blue eyes and blond curls like the world’s most overgrown, pissed-off Botticelli angel.

I pulled down my sunglasses to look at him, then slid them back up so I could focus on my phone screen. Right now, I was engaged in a long-term bout of spear phishing at Campbell Enterprises, and I was about to close the deal. This was way more interesting than anything Ridge was likely to share.

Janie, I typed, I’m on a plane with Dal Anderson and he wants a four-paragraph summary of Thursday’s press release so we can prepare talking points for the investors!! Can’t access the secure server from here and I’m fah-reaking OUT!! Send me something? – Becks

There. That ought to do it.

Becks, aka Rebecca Frankel, Junior Executive Assistant to the VP of Human Resources at Campbell, according to her LinkedIn profile, was adorably naïve and helpful. For example, when a friendly IT man had called the other day and asked for her credentials to verify a “suspicious login” from her site, she’d provided all the necessary info. Hell, if I’d asked for her astrological sign and social security number, she’d probably have given me that too.

Once I’d accessed her email, I’d had the keys to the castle. It had been easy to copy her writing style – hyper-friendly, with way too many exclamation points for a person over the age of thirteen – to learn that she was going on a business trip with her boss this week, and to find that she was smoke-break buddies with Jane DeVoor, Assistant to the CFO. As soon as Jane emailed back a summary of Thursday’s press release to help her pal out, I’d make a few quick investment decisions like I’d somehow learned to predict the future.

Hint: Ditch your psychic friends and go phishing instead.

“Um, would we say the drawer is really empty, though?” Breck, Ridge’s identical twin, asked from the lounge chair where he was stretched out in the sun practically on top of his boyfriend, Steele Alvarez.

“Close enough. The only things left are a pink tank top that says I Would Bottom You So Hardand this Pittsburgh Steelers t-shirt.” Ridge held it up. “Neither of them is mine, and frankly I don’t feel comfortable wearing either.”

A dreamer and an idealist, Amy writes about people finding love, family, and magic in the everyday world. From professional hockey players to professional thieves, her boys work hard, play hard, and love harder. She invites readers into her characters’ lives and worlds when they are their most vulnerable, their most human, and living with the same hopes and fears we all have.

Born on Long Island, NY, Amy has lived in Los Angeles, London, and Bangkok. She currently lives in a town suspiciously like Red Deer, Colorado.

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Skin and Bone (Digging Up Bones: Book 2) by TA Moore: Blog Tour with Exclusive Guest Post and Giveaway

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TCO is very excited to have TA Moore here today with Chapter Three of her short story for the blog tour of Skin and Bone, Digging Up Bones: Book Two. I can’t wait to read this book! Make sure you check out the entire story, on all six blogs, and don’t forget to enter the giveaway!

Digging Up Bones: Book Two

Cloister Witte and his K-9 partner, Bourneville, find the lost and bring them home.

But the job doesn’t always end there.

Janet Morrow, a young trans woman, lies in a coma after wandering away from her car during a storm. But just because Cloister found the young tourist doesn’t mean she’s home. What brought her to Plenty, California… and who didn’t want her to leave?

With the help of Special Agent Javi Merlo, who continues to deny his growing feelings for the rough-edged deputy, Cloister unearths a ten-year-old conspiracy of silence that taps into Plenty’s history of corruption.

Janet Morrow’s old secrets aren’t the only ones coming to light. Javi has tried to put his past behind him, but some people seem determined to pull his skeletons out of the closet. His dark history with a senior agent in Phoenix complicates not just the investigation but his relationship with Cloister.

And since when has he cared about that?

Title: Skin and Bone (Book 2 of the Digging up Bones series)

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release: 26 February

Cover Artist: Bree Archer

Amazon

Dreamspinner

First of all, thank you so much for having me! I’m thrilled to be here with Skin and Bone, the second book in the Digging up Bones series. Authors should probably be like parents in that they never admit any book is their favourite, but I love this series. It was great fun for me to revisit them in Skin and Bone and I hope you guys enjoy seeing them again too!

For this blog tour I have written a short story called ‘Sticks and Stones’ where you can see what Javi and Cloister were up to between books!

Sticks and Stones – Chapter Three

The light bounced over the rutted path as Cloister half-jogged, half-skidded down the loose shale covered hill. Scrub grew long and stringy at the side of the road, dried out and noisy as wildlife moved through it.

Bon’s ears swivelled in response to the rustle of fat bodies through the grass and the squeaky mews of something that was either a cat or a baby racoon, but was definitely interesting. Despite the distractions she kept her nose down to the trail as she sniffed out Judge Buchanan in the dirt and stones.

“Good girl,” Cloister told her. “It would just bite your nose anyhow.”

Bon wagged her tail in response to the ‘good’ and ignored the rest. The nylon weave of the leash rubbed at Cloister’s fingers as he kept her fairly tight to him. He’d grown up in a area like this, a dozen old buildings scattered back along a country loop so minor it didn’t have an official name. Just a number and the nickname Trash Alley, because…well…Cloister’s family, cousins and uncles and friends, lived there.

People always drove too fast on roads like this, as if they assumed the whole stretch of concrete and dirt from their doorway to the freeway was for their use only. Cloister had lost a bike and the skin off his back one summer to their neighbor—you’d yelled at him for scraping up her Station Wagon—but never a dog. He didn’t intend to break that streak.

A stray branch caught on his sleeve and snapped up into his face, It caught under his eye with a sharp, scratch of pain and then flicked up into his eyebrow. He winced and rubbed his eye on the back of his hand, torch beam pointed into the scrub to catch the reflection from a pair of eyes a bit too high off the ground to be a racoon.

Cloister ignored the coyote—unless it was rabid a coyote wouldn’t be interested in picking a fight with a big dog and a human unless it was pushed to it—and studied the trees along the side of the path.

No broken twigs. No scraps of hair caught in the branches or bits of fabric pierced like flags.

Judge Buchanan had left the house on foot and at her own pace. No one had chased her down here, if there was anyone with her they’d not been in a hurry. No fresh scuff marks on the road, no signs of any spot where someone had dug in their heels or grabbed for something to try and slow themselves down.

Cloister had only met Buchanan once, a domestic violence case where Bon had dragged an angry, tweaking ex from under a neighbors porch. She’d not seemed the sort to be dragged off into the night without some mark of her left behind.

At the bottom of the hill the dirt road ended in a gate. Bon stuck her nose under it and snorted in frustration as she tried one gap and then another. Second time lucky and she squeezed through the bars. The leash pulled tight between them as she leaned against.

“Bleib,” Cloister told her. She whinged her disapproval of the stay order but flopped down on the pavement. Her tail tip twitched impatiently as she waited. Cloister let the leash drop and jumped up to grab the top of the gate. The metal–rough and untreated–scraped against his palm as he pulled himself up. He kicked one booted foot between the bars and boosted himself over the crossbar. Cloister dropped down on the other side and pulled the leash back through. Bon got a quick thump to the shoulders for being a good dog as she scrambled back onto her paws. “Such.”

On the other side of the was a well-paved concrete road. Bon veered sharply across to the left and then keep going onto the other side of the road. Security lights flicked on as they jogged past. On a few of the gates a camera, red light bright against the darkness, tracked him through its territory.

A bench, decorated with a divorce lawyer’s capped white smile and phone number, distracted Bon for a moment. She circled around it and then jumped up onto the seat and barked as she scraped at the sun-bleached plastic.

“She stopped here, huh?” Cloister said. He snapped his fingers and gestured down for Bon. She hopped down and wove between his legs, her weight solid as she butted her shoulder behind his knees. The leash tangled around his ankles in a snare. Cloister pinned a loop under his heel and stepped out of the knot. “Bon, enough. Sit.”

With a heavy, put-upon sigh Bon sat down. She hung her tongue out of her mouth, pink and dripping, while Cloister checked the bench over. Initials had been carved into the plastic with deep, ragged strokes and circled with lopsided hearts. No gang tags. No blood.

A flicker of something yellow beneath the bench caught his eye. He knelt down and reached in the grab the scrap of paper that had caught against a loose bit of rock. It was a sheet of lined, yellow paper with a list of times and locations on it. Home bookended the list, and in between included the courthouse, a cafe—ham on rye stipulated in brackets underneath, and a dry cleaners.

Someone had been paying a lot of attention to where Judge Buchanan went every day.

Although—Cloister glanced up the timetable posted in the metal pole—why they’d take her to get the bus he didn’t know.

19 – It’s About the Book

20 – My Fiction Nook

21 – Two Chicks Obsessed

24 – Boy Meets Boy

25 – Love Bytes

26 – Joyfully Jay

TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. As her grandmother always said, ‘she’d laugh at a bad thing that one’, mind you, that was the pot calling the kettle black. TA Moore studied History, Irish mythology, English at University, mostly because she has always loved a good story. She has worked as a journalist, a finance manager, and in the arts sectors before she finally gave in to a lifelong desire to write.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

Website: www.tamoorewrites.com

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

Twitter: @tamoorewrites

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Darkness Dawns by Zakarrie Clarke: Exclusive Guest Post, Excerpt and Giveaway

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Darkness Dawns is a love story. It also tells the tale of one man’s war with himself, brought onto the battlefield of his blindness. Leo Ferrar suffers from diabetic retinopathy and lost his sight two years ago. Unable to bear the scrutiny of strangers or the impact of his blindness on those he loves, Leo has determined on shutting the world out ever since. This is the man Ben meets on his first day at work as Mr Ferrar’s care assistant.

A former heroin addict, Ben was sentenced to six months community service as punishment for his crimes by a judge entitled to condemn him to a seven-year stretch. Far too charming for his own welfare, Ben proves unaccountably brilliant at ‘bulldozing the blind’.

When fate sees fit to dispatch Ben to the home of the man he has dubbed Mr Ferrarcious;it is with the words of the last five unfortunates who’d dared darken Leo’s doorway ringing in his ears.  A door that is opened by a man who might be Lord Byron himself. Drop dead gorgeous and as hot as hell, Leo Ferrar hasthemost beautiful eyes Ben has ever seen.

Never has an irony seemed so cruel. Nor fate so fortuitous.

Author: Zakarrie Clarke

Title: Darkness Dawns

Publisher: MLR Press

Genre/s: Contemporary/Humour/MM/Disability (Blindness)

Length: 65 000 words/150 PDF pages

Release Date: February 1, 2019

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Publisher – MLR

Smashwords

Topic: switching sub genres when writing (historical, contemporary etc)

Thank you for having me, and hello to you and your readers.

I wasn’t conscious of having switched sub genres for some time after I had. I only seem to distinguish things thus: Favourites/Stuff I couldn’t care less about. As long as I’m not required to pay attention to the latter in everyday life, I tend to ignore them. I’ve always been attracted to people regardless of gender, and feel likewise about genres. I mostly watch movies with actors I adore, and read books written by authors I admire. I suspect they’d have to release a quantum physics textbook before I registered their switch of subjects.

There were two stories rattling around my head when I started to write with real focus. Both were contemporary m/m romance, but my third was a love story set in a psychiatric hospital. Darkness Dawns was my fourth, so it seems I tackled two disorder/disability stories on the trot. In retrospect, I may have written Hangover From Hell (my first published novel) for a bit of light relief. A few months later, I began one of my historical binges. The Georgian/Regency period has always been my favourite era, so I re-read my biographies on The Duchess of Devonshire and Marie Antoinette (I love that their stories intersect). My stash replenished—overflowing with facts and steeped in imagery from The Duchess and Marie Antoinette—I began The Duke & The Dandy Highwayman.

For some unfathomable reason, this triggered a shapeshifter story based upon local legend. Looking back, this was my most significant switch—in theory—having fast forwarded a few centuries, moved from London to Cornwall, and entered the realms of fantasy. In truth, I found it far more tricky to segue from a sightless character to an artist. I had to interfere with my thought processes; lose a sense and maintain its absence, mindful of every word I weaved. Not-so sneaky sight references seemed to lurk in wait like landmines, everywhere I looked. Or couldn’t. In contrast, switching from a highwayman to a shapeshifter was more akin to slipping on a new costume. I lost my swishy cape but gained fur and super senses. That was fun. I did miss the cape, though.

The only time I’ve consciously tweaked my terminology was while writing The Duke & The Dandy. I wanted to include Regency colloquialisms, so I sourced the correct cant and entwined it into my ordinary writing. Ye olde English is my catnip, so it felt a very comfy fit. I just love words. I squirrel them away to snuffle…from Shakespeare to Sappho, Trollope to Tonlet. Then waft them about with gay abandon.

Leo knew heshould have opted to use the cane, instead of the arm Ben offered him for their unexpected walk.Should. Every time that word left someone’s lips, Leo wanted to scream; fists clenched in a screech of hopeless, helpless rage. The fact that everything he shoulddo was For-His-Own-Benefit, made it so much worse, which was as ludicrous as it was true. Independence was the only thing he had left to aspire to. So, why the fuck did should rub Leo so raw it obliterated any inclination he may have had to do whatever it prefaced? He ought to want to do the things he should. But what if he tried…and failed? What if Leo couldn’t master any of them? Then he would lose even the hope that he might, one day, be able to. Even more galling, that loss would be down to him, because he was so bloody useless. He didwant to show Ben that he was quite capable of managing…didn’t he? Very much, although why that mattered, Leo had no idea.

Why care what this latest in a long line of functioning eyeballs thought of him? It was probably more politic to say, ‘visually unimpaired’. Visually Impaired. Leo had to stifle the urge to punch people who described him thus. Impaired? Adj: weakened or damaged. Weak. Weakened. F’fucksakes. He was still chewing that particular wasp when Ben asked for his wrist.

Does he intend to lead me by it, as if I’m a toddler?

Leo found himself holding it out anyway. Christ knows why he was going along with all this. It was just that…being in Ben’s company was rather like sitting in the passenger seat of a snow plough driven by a drunk. Far preferable to standing in its path…and yet, somehow more appealing than staying behind, wherever the hell it was off to.

Nevertheless, he was still relieved when Ben clasped the proffered wrist—not to cart Leo off as he’d feared—but to plant his hand on top of Ben’s head. The fact that Leo could have changed the lightbulb without stretching a whole lot further, did seem to suggest he’d been addressing Ben’s nipples for the last half hour.

Quite how Ben then contrived to claim fault for something that was Leo’s mistake was less clear, but this was pulled off with such disarming charm, it would’ve been churlish to argue otherwise. Why the hell did the notion of calling Ben’s bluff feel as brutal a prospect as drowning his cat? If he had one, of course. Cat? More to the point…nipples?

“Thank you,” Leo managed to mumble, which was something of a result itself. Half an hour with Ben and he’d started to feel several sandwiches short of the proverbial picnic. He’d also begun to suspect that Violet had been a sweet little old lady—and quite sane—when she’d met Ben.

So off they went. The blindingly daft leading the blind off on a stroll around Camden.

In a bid to distract himself from well, pretty much everything he’d thought for the last five minutes, Leo decided to ask Ben to describe himself. For some reason he was intrigued, not only to know what Ben looked like, but to hear the picture he drew. Leo had an inkling this would prove more unmissable than an aural tour around the National Portrait Gallery. Unmissable?It was a bloody masterpiece. There most definitely were not any renderings of Steptoe’s six-four daughter there. The last two years might have felt a damn sight less soul-destroying if Ben had voiced Leo’s DVD visual descriptions.

Walking outside had lost all its appeal when the world became a giant landmine lying in wait to blow up in Leo’s face; every step into the unknown, a potential public humiliation. Despite this, and Ben’s partiality to lamp posts, they somehow arrived in Gloucester Crescent, alive and well. Even more shocking, was that Leo hadn’t fretted about…anything really, along the way. He’d just drifted along, listening to Ben weave words too beguiling to question where embellishment waved farewell to the truth. But who the fuck would want to, when that would feel as blasphemous as punching a fist through a Picasso?

When Zakarrie was little and dreamed big, she wanted to be a writer. Just like Enid Blyton. Or p’raps not…having been most remiss on the lashings of ginger beer front. After moving to London at eighteen and flitting about for far too long, she finally settled, as blissy as can be, by the sea. When her castaway dreams resurfaced, they were believed into being by the warm words of friends who breathed life into her own. Her one wish now is that someone, somewhere, might enjoy the misadventures of her miscreants as much as she adores writing them.

 

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Educating the Professor by Sean Michael: Exclusive Guest Post and Excerpt

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TCO is happy to have Sean Michael stopping by with a guest post about finding the unexpected when writing a new book, and an excerpt that’s quirky while setting up the story nicely. Educating the Professor looks like it has all the sexy of a Sean Michael BDSM book, and a bit of intrigue to round out the romance. Can’t wait! Thanks for stopping by Sean!

Kenneth Brannigan is a small-town history professor. He’s happy with his life, loves the classes he teaches, and lives in a tiny apartment in a converted house with his best friend, Tim, next door. He’s still recovering from a bad breakup and is content to stick to his comfortable routine. It’s Tim who insists he come to the Queer Alliance’s Rainbow Mixer.

At the mixer, Kenn meets David Burgundy, a new-to-town TA who is working on his masters. Dave is drawn immediately to Kenn and is thrilled when Kenn offers to show him the best pizza place in town. One meal leads to two, which leads to Dave and Kenn spending most of their free time together… and Kenn loosening his self-imposed rules regarding dating and sex for some kinky fun.

Kenn’s ex isn’t going to just let Kenn be, though, and the happier Kenn is with Dave, the less the ex likes it. Will Kenn continue to run away from his past, or will his relationship with Dave help him face it head-on?

Title: Educating the Professor
Author: Sean Michael
Release Date: February 5, 2019
Category: Contemporary, BDSM
Pages: 193

Amazon

Dreamspinner Press

Thank you to Two Chicks Obsessed for hosting me today!

I love it when a book surprises me as I write it, and Educating the Professor is one such book. I had no idea Kenn’s ex was going to be involved. I knew that Kenn was a sub, but one who was reluctant, who hadn’t done a whole lot. And I knew Dave was his one and only and would be a great Dom for him. They were made for each other.

Then, when I thought the book was about Kenn learning about the lifestyle he’s so fascinated by (online at any rate), his ex showed up and suddenly there’s a very good reason why Kenn hasn’t ever done anything in the lifestyle, why he doesn’t even ever talk about it with anyone. It was a good surprise for sur and I’m glad there was more to the story than I thought.

My characters are good at that – they all come with their own baggage and stories and let me know it on a regular basis!

I hope you enjoy Kenn and Dave’s story; they’re sweet and kinky boys and I had a blast writing them.

Sean Michael

smut fixes everything

Dave grabbed his beer and took a sip before wandering away from the bar. He had to give it to the Queer Alliance—they really knew how to decorate for a Rainbow Mixer. It totally looked like a unicorn had barfed all over the place.

His newly self-appointed best friend, Anita, sidled up next to him. “Looks great, doesn’t it?”

Given that she was on the event committee, he knew she’d had a hand in the decorations.

“Very colorful,” he told her, hoping she didn’t press him. He didn’t like lying, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings either. He was generally more of a black leather and silver buckle sort of man, but this was… impossible to ignore.

She was happy with his answer, bouncing and kissing his cheek.

He was new to the campus, coming to the university to do his masters, and had found a room with five other TAs who lived in a great big old house—frat style, really. And honestly, he was grateful Anita had latched on to him. She knew everyone and everything about the school. She’d been the one to insist that the mixer was the best way to meet people.

It was certainly well-attended—undergrads and graduate students, along with professors, some of whom had the confident joviality of tenured faculty while others appeared more anxious to please. Impressive.

Anita took hold of his arm and began dragging him around, introducing him to everyone. It was a good thing he had a knack for putting together self-reminders for names and faces because he must have met a hundred people in less than an hour. His beer was long gone, and Anita seemed determined to ensure he met absolutely everyone before letting him go get another.

“Have you met Drs. Brannigan and Parker? They’re from the history department.”

“My first history profs,” he joked. He shook their hands, giving the slender blond a longer smile. Pretty. Very pretty.

“I’m Tim, this is Kenneth.” The redhead was bouncy, all kinetic energy. “Anita, you have outdone yourself.”

Dave wondered for one brief moment what it would take to tame that vivacity. A little bondage? No, a lot of bondage. But most of his attention remained on the much quieter Kenneth. With this man the trick would be to make him lose control. It could be a delicious challenge.

“Thank you, Dr. Parker,” Anita said. “I appreciate it. Do you mind if I leave David here with you? I have to check on the snacks.”

“Of course. We’ll make sure he doesn’t get lost.” Tim had a quick smile. “Oh look, Kenn! There’s a reporter. Let’s go talk to him.”

“Go ahead, Tim. I’m not interested in publicity, huh?”

“Oh. Right. I got it. I’ll just go and see what’s what.”

Dave chuckled as the redhead bebopped his way over to the reporter. “If we could bottle that energy….”

“Yes indeed. We all say that twelve times a day.”

Best-selling author Sean Michael is a maple leaf–loving Canadian who spends hours hiding out in used book stores. With far more ideas than time, Sean keeps several documents open at all times. From romance to fantasy, paranormal and sci-fi, Sean is limited only by the need for sleep—and the periodic Beaver Tail.

Sean fantasizes about one day retiring on a secluded island populated entirely by horseshoe crabs after inventing a brain-to-computer dictation system. Until then, Sean will continue to write the old-fashioned way.

Sean Michael on the web:

WEBSITE: http://www.seanmichaelwrites.com

BLOG: http://seanmichaelwrites.blogspot.ca

FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/SeanMichaelWrites/

TWITTER: seanmichael09

INSTAGRAM:  https://www.instagram.com/seanmichaelpics/

 

In Safe Hands by Victoria Sue: Exclusive Cover Reveal, TWO Exclusive Excerpts and Giveaway

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Victoria Sue is stopping by today to give TCO readers an exclusive peek at the beautiful cover of In Safe Hands, coming March 19th. She’s brought along some fantastic excerpts (one that sucks you in right away!!!!) and a giveaway for commenters. The cover is so gorgeous, so detailed. It is just beautiful, so check everything out, comment for the giveaway, and then look at the cover again and again. 🙂 Thanks Sue for stopping by! 

Former helicopter pilot Maverick Delgardo’s injuries ended his Air Force career, leaving him bitter and one drink away from becoming an alcoholic. When his sister asks for his help on a private protection case to babysit a disgraced pop star, Mav reluctantly agrees.

Deacon Daniels, onetime lead singer and idol to his teenage fans, saw his career and reputation ruined when a reporter’s exposé led to a devastating scandal. Without money or a job, a heartbroken Deacon has lost custody of his baby niece. And just when he thinks his life can’t get any worse, a stalker’s threatening messages escalate to murder.

Mav only agreed to one meeting, but his protective instincts kick in, along with an attraction to Deacon. When the body count increases, however, Mav is unsure he is up to the task of protecting Deacon from a killer. But it is too late for Mav to step away, now that he’s lost his heart, and he must find the strength to reassure Deacon and his niece that they are in safe hands no matter the cost.

 

Dreamspinner Press

Victoria Sue wanted fans to not only see the gorgeous cover by the amazing Jay Aheer, but also brought you TWO Exclusive excerpts. So, take a look at the cover maybe one or two more times 😉 and then check out the excerpts! 🙂

The man looked down and pasted on his best nervous expression just before he got into the stupid bitch’s car. She smiled eagerly, but then she would, because she thought he was doing her a huge fucking favor.

She didn’t know she was going to die.

“You’re sure my name isn’t going to be leaked?” he said, pretending to be worried. “I need a promise of complete confidentiality.”

Sara Jeffries put her hand on his arm in what he was sure she thought was a comforting gesture. “Absolutely. No names. I can promise you complete confidentiality.” She tittered like she’d just said the funniest thing in the history of forever. He wondered if she’d still be giggling like they were sharing some big fucking secret when he was pouring lighter fuel all over her naked body. He licked his lips, and she patted his arm again. The bitch thought it was a nervous gesture, but really he was imagining all the things he could do to have some fun first. This one he was going to take his time with.

“Nice car,” he complimented. He would have preferred to meet in his, but that would have been awkward when they went home together.

She smiled again and opened an iPad.

“No,” he said. “Nothing electronic. You promised you would show me your notes first when we are done.” He couldn’t take the risk of her saving something externally. He was content at the moment to let her think he was paranoid. He brought a pad and pen out of his pocket. “You can use this.”

“Very traditionalist,” she snickered but took them and stowed the iPad away in her purse. “Now,” she said. “You were going to give me some information about Deacon Daniels.”

“Why are you so interested in him?” She’d been like a dog with a bone.

Her eyes gleamed. “Because he’s my ticket out of here. I have an interview next week in New York.”

He leaned forward as if he was sharing a confidence and clasped the syringe in his pocket, sliding the cap off the needle. “Did you know he’s got a new boyfriend?”

She stilled. “My readers won’t care he’s gay. He’s not exactly kept it a secret.” She sighed as if she was disappointed, and he smiled to himself.

“Did you know his old agent is dead?”

Her head whipped up. “Jones? No. Accident? Suspicious?” She started trying to take notes, but the pen wouldn’t work as he knew it wouldn’t. She tutted and bent forward, reaching in her purse for another. It had been exactly the move he had been hoping for, and before she even had a chance to think about screaming, his hand was covering her mouth, and he plunged the needle into her neck. He held her effortlessly while she struggled.

“Quit fighting,” he crooned, even as he felt her struggles getting weaker, “because I’m going to give you an exclusive.” Her eyes widened, not because she wanted the story, but because she knew what was coming.

“There’s going to be another murder,” he whispered in her ear as she gave one last pathetic jerk, and he watched as her eyes closed. He gave her another second to give the ketamine a chance to work properly, and then he let her go. He stuffed everything into her bag, got out of the car, and walked around to the driver’s side. He’d insisted because of his job he couldn’t be seen, and she had understood, so no one was around here to see him lift her out of the seat and stuff her in the trunk. Then he would take her home. He’d already checked she had a garage he could just drive into when they got back to hers.

The man smiled to himself again. That had really been way too easy.

“You think I hurt her?”

Maverick blinked. “What? No.”

“Then what the hell do you mean?” Deacon burst out.

“I screwed up last night,” Maverick admitted. He had. Anyone could have come in, and Deacon would have had no protection whatsoever. “If you’d have had problems last night, I couldn’t have done jack shit.”

He could see Deacon’s face soften, but the last thing he wanted was Deacon feeling sorry for him. Things could have gone badly wrong last night while he was having his own pity party all because he wanted so desperately to follow Deacon upstairs and join him in bed. He’d had the drink to dampen the urge. He’d had the second because he’d had the first. He couldn’t remember how many he drank, but the first one had been one too many.

“And it’s not only that.” He tapped his leg in case Deacon still didn’t get it. “I’ll be completely honest, when Shirley offered Jamie this job, she intimated a couple of days babysitting while you calmed down.” Deacon stiffened, and Maverick held up a conciliatory hand. “She was obviously wrong and misjudged you and the threat itself.” He swallowed. “Deacon, there is the real possibility that there is a killer picking off people you know. What if he or she comes for you?”

“Maverick, I have no money.”

“I’ll pay.”

“You try and I’ll leave here and check into a motel,” Deacon threatened.

“You’ve just said you’ve got no money,” Maverick pointed out dryly.

“The papers would pay for it.”

“What?” Maverick exclaimed.

“I have three that have offered to advance me the cash for my ‘exclusive’ story.” Deacon finger quoted. “I could be out of here in thirty minutes.”

“Absolutely not,” Maverick thundered, wondering how this was going so wrong.

“Says who?” Deacon challenged.

“Me, for starters.” It was ridiculous. “You can’t go wandering about on your own.” It wasn’t safe, and the thought of Deacon getting hurt made him feel distinctly ill.

“If I can’t have you, I don’t want anyone,” Deacon said firmly. “So make up your mind because I will have to go get my things together.”

“I’m no good for you,” Maverick tried again.

“Can you shoot?”

Maverick scowled. Of course he could, but he knew what Deacon was trying to say. “Okay, I’m your protection, but you have to promise me something.” Deacon arched an eyebrow but waited. “You stay here, and I will look after you. If this escalates, I may bring in further help from my contacts who I was going to ask originally when Jamie wanted to start this type of business.”

Mav looked at the stubborn set of Deacon’s jaw, the pale face, and the very light dusting of freckles across his nose that were so like Molly’s. The blue eyes were wide open and flashing fury, and Deacon was standing, hands on his hips, and preparing to do battle.

And how Maverick stayed still and didn’t gather him in his arms and kiss him senseless was completely beyond him.

Victoria Sue fell in love with love stories as a child when she would hide away with her mom’s library books and dream of the dashing hero coming to rescue her from math homework. She never mastered math but never stopped loving her heroes and decided to give them the happy ever afters they fight so hard for.
She loves reading and writing about gorgeous boys loving each other the best—and creating a family for them to adore. Thrilled to hear from her readers, she can be found most days lurking on Facebook where she doesn’t need factor 1000 sun-cream to hide her freckles.

www.victoriasue.com

@vickysuewrites

https://www.facebook.com/victoriasueauthor

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