It’s time to celebrate Under His Guard, the Don’t Tell series finale! I can’t wait for you all to read this. The early reviews are awesome, and Darke and Leon simply stole my heart!

It’s a brave new Dystopian world.

The Revolution is ending, and the romance hits hot, heavy, and fast. We’ve waited–bated breath–for three books to get to this point where everything comes together. You’ll get to see Cannon and Nate, and Liz and Linc, on this journey into the new unknown with our heroes Darke and Leon at the forefront.

A race against time . . . 

AMAZON
B & N
ITUNES
GOODREADS

BLURB:
In the year 2071, the war has reached a turning point for the rebel army, the Freelanders. As they battle the InterNations government, the Freelanders vow to fight to the last man—and there are fewer and fewer men . . .

Tough rebel soldier Darke has lost a lot in the war: his family . . . his friends . . . his lovers. His only respite from heartbreak and grief is the tender moments he spends with Leon, a brave warrior who has proven himself countless times on the battlefield. Fearful of getting hurt again, Darke tries to ignore their undeniable attraction . . .

When Leon is seized by the enemy and infected with a deadly virus, he becomes a walking time bomb set to wipe out the entire rebel population. With time running out for Leon and the Freelanders, Darke must face his feelings for Leon and race to find a cure.

EXCERPT:

Yup. You heard that correctly. It’s Frankie the Tailor and Augie from Sugar Daddy. Just a little bit of extra fun from Love, In The Fast Lane. 

Bonus scene #1.​

Love, In The Fast Lane and Sugar Daddy Mash-up

Frankie the Tailor and August DuBose the Gay Gadabout Town
I ambled up to the tables outside Rue de Jean restaurant easily spotting August’s Panama hat. My cane tapped on the flagstones, and he turned his head.

“August, my man.”

He stood as I approached. His silver hair glinted in the sun, and I paused for a moment to admire his suit—one of my own, of course. It draped beautifully on his tall frame. August Du Bose, one helluva handsome fox. We’d torn it up a time or two back in the day. August was my introduction to the scene when I “relocated” from New York to Charleston.

One helluva lover, too, although now we were hands-off, friends only.

I wrapped my arms around him, thumping him on the back with the polished grip of my cane. “Dapper as usual, my friend.”

“Well, I can’t fault the threads, Franklin.” He pulled back and indicated his table. “I ordered for you.”

Franklin. Hmph. August knew he was the only one who could get away with calling me that. Always smooth and polished on the outside, my foppish friend was a rough-riding fag on the inside just like me. He knew how to get his fists dirty, too, when push came to shove.
I waited for him to sit before I took my chair. He wasn’t the only one with manners, and I knew my Augie appreciated that shit.

Laying my cigar case on the table, I glanced at the waiting iced wine bucket. Impeccable choice, as always. Muscade de Sevre et Maine.
“And mussels?” I asked.

August winked at me. “On the way.”

“You know me too well, my friend.”

“Ain’t that the damn truth?” His deep chuckle still made me shiver.

“What’s the what, eh? Lookin’ for a little noontime nookie?”

His laugh rumbled even more. “Oh, honey. I think we both know that ship has sailed. Besides, I’ve got my sights set on someone else.”
I took a sip of my wine and leaned back in my seat. “Prince Harry again?”

“Ha!” August swept both hands through his silvery hair. “Mmm hmm, all that British beefcake—”

“To corrupt.”

“Or at the very least dress.” August clinked his glass to mine.

“Think I’d rather work on the undressing part with the little prince. Got me a thing about redheads.”

“Hell, you’ve got a thing about guys with cocks.”

I tapped my cane on the flagstones in assent while someone at the next table tutted August’s use of the word “cock” apparently. They better watch it, I wasn’t the Italian tailor for nuthin’. There were many uses for pinking shears.

August rolled his eyes. “Anyone would think we’re the only two flamers in Charleston.” He threw his voice extra loud.

“Hey, I take offense to that. I’m not a fairy. I’m a big buff Eye-talian queer. Speak for yourself.” I lit up, and blew the copious cigar fumes toward the table beside us. That’d shut ’em up.

“This reminds me of the old days.” August propped his elbows on the table.

“What? Like last year?”

His grin widened. “Yessir. Remember that piece of shit we had to take care of?”

“Who? That goon bothering Shay?”

“Shepperd Slaughter. Yeah.”

“Had to go a little slaughterhouse on him.” My laugh was menacing. “Good thing we let Reardon fire him first, huh? Hey now, show me a picture of that new little lady of theirs.”

August had a full set of photos in his wallet. Proud as a parent himself.

“Shit, man. She’s precious. Looks just like her momma, huh?” I traced the tiny little rosebud face with my fingertip. “What’s her name?”

“Lily Alexandra.” He flipped his wallet closed, beaming.

“You still got a thing for Reardon?”

“Oh, Franklin. That man is fiiiiine. Damn. Shay loves me though, she still lets me drool over him as long as I keep feeding her fashion advice.” He leaned back and crossed one leg at the knee. I admired the perfect cuffs on his trousers. “What about you? What’s this I heard about a wedding party? And you didn’t invite me? I love the nuptials as much as the next flamer.”

With that final flamer comment, the table next to us cleared out. Good. Wouldn’t have to hurt them later. I blew cigar smoke after them.
“Josh Stone. Mama mia.” I kissed the tips of my fingers. “That man is hung and hunky and has stud written all over him.”

“Well, I think I might need to go get my tires looked at.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas. My big beefy mechanic didn’t even want to take a ride on the Italian sausage.”

“My oh my, that must be a first for you. Of course, he is straight.” August smoothed out the creases in his trousers.

“As straight as your guy,” I muttered. “Both successful.”

“All about the family.”

“And fuckhot.”

“And fuckhot, ain’t that the truth.” August sighed as the waitress arrived with two steaming platters of mussels and a basket of baguettes. “Not to mention they’re practically neighbors in the Old Village.”

“And married,” I repeated. I dipped a mussel into the garlic and wine sauce and slid it into my mouth. Fuckin’ Nirvana. Not the Kurt Cobain kind.

“And married. It’s a damn crime, Franklin.”

“I’ll tell ya what a crime is. That friggin’ Nicky Love fan group.” I peered thoughtfully at my old friend. “August, you’d probably have put your own eyes out at the sight. I had no choice but to fix that shit up free of charge. Fuggin’ A.”

August snickered then dropped his bread onto his plate. His mouth also dropped open.

“What’s got your attention all of a sudden? Am I missing a prime piece of man meat?” I asked.

“The finest.” August picked up his Panama hat and fanned himself with it.

I had to see this. Casually slipping around in my seat--riiiight—I glanced behind me. Then my mouth joined August’s on the table. Black hair, stunning blue eyes, clean-shaved, handsome face, bright smile, and fucking laughlines. Then there was the Adonis body. “Is that?”
“Oh yes. Reardon Dade Boone.” Augie flapped his hat in my direction, and I snatched it from him.

“I see what you’re—oh holy shit.” My cane clattered to the flagstones.

“Praise the good Lord above. Who is that?”

“Josh motherfuggin’-A Stone.” In the flesh. The big, rugged, rough, sexy flesh . . . standing right behind Reardon at the hostess podium.

“You didn’t tell me he looks like that,” August exclaimed.

“You’ve been holding out yourself.”

“I think I’m gonna go slash my tires now,” August mumbled, half-rising from the table.
​
“I wonder how fast I can get your Mr. Boone in my fitting room. M’I right?”

LOVE ON AMAZON

 STONE ON AMAZON

RIDE ON AMAZON

Download Jingle Bell Rock right here on my website!
A bashful bouncer, a Cajun rock boy, and a Christmas Eve kiss that changes everything…

Brian “Beef” Carroway thinks he’s gay. No, he knows he is. He’s gruff, buff, and overcompensating for his big size and soft heart. Brian’s the badass bouncer at Mosh rock club where Cajun singer Jack Cotille moonlights for the month of December.


With a voice like sin, Jack is walking, talking, sexy temptation in the flesh. He’s also fly-by-night, possibly homeless, and chancing everything on a wing and a prayer. Just about the only thing Brian is sure of is traveling man Jack belts out dirty rock lyrics while promising the kind of pornographic sex he’s only fantasized about.


He’s definitely gay for Jack.


One Christmas Eve kiss leads to a night of heaven, a morning of hell. The holiday week leaves Brian aching for more than his wanderer singer can give as the New Year’s Eve countdown begins.


***WARNING: Explicit male-male sex and a hot holiday romance***
​

TITLE: Jingle Bell Rock
AUTHOR: Rie Warren
LENGTH: 60 pages
GENRE: Gay male, Contemporary, Erotic Romance
 
FREE PDF DOWNLOAD HERE!!

Download instructions for your Kindle (coz I’m cool like that wink_wink):


Option one: Forward the downloaded file to your Kindle email address (yes, you have one!), sync/check on your Kindle, and Booyah!


Option two: Use the ‘Send to Kindle’ free app here (I use this, it’s awesome!). After you download it all you have to do is hover over the pdf, right click, click ‘send to kindle’ and…Booyah!


Jingle Bell Rock on Goodreads: You can read, download, and review here too!

Share, send, give it to your friends! The more the  merrier, and happy hot holidays to all! xoxo~

This Don’t Tell series outtake first appeared on Lily Element. Many thanks for hosting me and my dubious crew  The interview takes place during the time between In His Command and the opening of On Her Watch.
_______________________________________
The interviewees walked into the room after checking their various guns, knives, and other hardware at the security point. Under breath complaining could be heard as Caspar Cannon held out a chair first for his husband, Nathaniel, then for his former second-in-charge, Lieutenant Liz Grant. The trio settled at the table, wearing varied combinations of black leather and tough camouflage.
They made an interesting group—three of the most wanted rebels by the InterNations government. Cannon the tall, muscled military man had short dark hair and an intense expression. His caramel brown eyes and swarthy looks were almost identical to Liz Grant’s although they weren’t related. She stood tall, slim, strong with razor sharp black locks—what one would call a pixie cut, but never to her face. In direct contrast to his lover and his new friend, Nathaniel—ex head of Technical Acquisitions for the Company but a Freelander through and through—boasted an ultra modern long stripe of golden blond hair that when pulled back revealed the shaved sides of his head. His stubble was shaved neatly, his blues eyes sparkled, and his easy grin was as infectious as I later found his drawl to be.
He and Caspar made a striking couple.
Cannon brushed a hand down the back of his neck. “So, are we ready to roll here or what?”
“Yeah. It’s not like there’s a Revolution to fight or anything.” Liz popped her knuckles and propped her boots on the table.
“Of course. So tell me, Commander Cannon, what’s your favorite color?”
With a gentle stroke of his fingertips along Blondie’s (aka Nathaniel’s) cheek, he smiled, “Blue.”
In return to his lover’s caress, Nathaniel cheeks colored and the azure blue eyes Cannon noted lowered in seeming pleasure.
Sitting on the other side of her former Commander, Liz smirked. “Blue balls, maybe.”
“Not anymore.” He shot back. Then he chuckled. “You’re the only one with a bad case of blue balls.”
“Just because I don’t have my own Fuck Bunny…” As she pushed her boot-shod feet off the table, she drummed short fingernails on the arms of her chair. “But I’m glad you finally admit I’ve got the balls to back up my mouth.”
“More balls than brains. And I sure as hell hope so since you’re going up against Linc Cutler alone.” Cannon’s already deep voice had lowered to a dangerous tone.
“Maybe it’s time for another question?” The Freelander with the longish blond hair pointed out from his side of the bickering pair.
“Sure thing. Underwear or commando, Nathaniel?”
While Nathaniel flushed beneath the short golden stubble on his cheeks, Liz cackled with glee. “I know. I know! Nathaniel goes Commander.”
“Damn straight.”
“Y’all think I could get a word in edgewise?” Blondie interjected.
“Nope,” came his companion’s twin responses.
“Kill me now, please.” Nathaniel’s mock frown was completely unconvincing. “And if I can’t go Commander, I prefer to go commando.”
Cannon’s licked his lips, staring at his husband.
“So, what is your twin brother, Commander Lincoln Cutler, like?”
Tugging at the double helix ring in his ear, Nathaniel frowned. “Ruthless. Single-minded. Ambitious.” He glanced sideways at Liz. “Uh…but don’t let that worry you.”
Cannon sat back to rub both hands over his face. “Greeeat.”
Turning slightly paler, Liz pursed her lips, then blew out a long breath. “Yeah. No sweat, like I said.”
“How do you feel about your upcoming engagement in Beta Territory, Lieutenant Grant?”
“First of all, it’s not an engagement of any kind. It’s a mission. And dammit, how come you give them the easy questions like whether they hang to the left or right but you want to get all interpersonal with me?” The eye-catching woman fingered her empty holsters in an agitated manner.
“We all think you’re an extraordinary woman, Liz–”
“Extraordinary pain in the ass.” Cannon blustered.
Liz reached out and punched his shoulder.
“And people want to know more about you.”
“I think she just called us boring, Big Man.” Nathaniel sought to ease the tension in the room.
“Would you care to answer the question?”
Liz gritted her teeth. “How about no?” She knocked her head back before piercing me with an unforgettably haunting stare. “Fine. I’m going because I can do more good in Beta than anywhere else and I need to know what the hell really happened to my dad. I don’t buy the bullshit Nomads killed him spin anymore. If I have to bend over backwards to get on Linc Cutler’s good side I’ll do it. But I am not going to end up in the cutthroat Commander’s bed.”
“Those are pretty vehement words.”
“There’s plenty more where those came from.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “PS. I wear cotton panties instead of thongs because I prefer to use floss on my teeth instead of in my ass, thank you very much.”
After blanching through her tirade, both Cannon and Nathaniel laughed along with her, highlighting their easy camaraderie.
“Here’s one for everyone: what book are you reading now?”
Cannon popped up. “The Art of War. I found it in the Chitamauga library. I’m trying to source out new strategies. Or old, forgotten ones from Old History, I guess.”
“How did you end up with such a romantic, Nate?” Liz asked.
“Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it,” he returned.
“Tried him? No thanks.”
“Gross.” Cannon’s nose wrinkled.
“I’m readin’ Don Quixote,” Nathaniel drawled.
“You and your windmills.” His husband linked their fingers together.
“They’re Hatch’s windmills not mine. And that’s not what the book is about.”
“What about you, Lieutenant?”
“The History of Modern Art,” she answered.
Cannon blinked at her. “The history of huh?”
She flicked him on the forehead. “Shut it. Both our books have art in them. And don’t be such a Neandrethal. For fuck’s sake, Nate, what do you see in him?”
“I can answer that one.” The brown haired man lay one large hand in his lap with a suggestive grin.
“I’m not just after your cock.”
“Well it can’t be his smarts,” Liz quipped.
“I’ll have you know I’m very smart, thank you very fucking much.” Kissing the side of Nathaniel’s neck, Cannon murmured, “And you’ll be sucking those words later, Blondie.”
The two men gazed at each other with electricity racing between them.
Liz huffed. “Are we done?” Her chair scraped back and she gained her feet with feline grace.
“Well, not really. I still have ten other questions to–”
“So we’re done.” Cannon stood too, brooking no argument.
As they filed out, Nathaniel hung back to shake my hand with polite words of goodbye.
“C’mon babe. I got a new weapon to demonstrate for you.”
“Oh god. You’re talking about your cannon again, aren’t you?” Liz rolled her eyes.
Caspar stopped to wink at her and grabbed his man’s hand.
Nodding a hasty goodbye, Nathaniel loped after Cannon with a lusty smile.
 I watched through the open door as the trio collected their weapons and systematically checked their ammo. They left quickly and quietly becoming mirages melting with the crowd beyond the building.
One thing was certain. The InterNations Territories would never be the same. Now they just had to win the Revolution.
 
Comments can be directed to either Cannon, Nathaniel, Liz or the sometimes keeper of these characters—Rie Warren—in comments.  
_______________________________________
DON’T TELL SERIES:
In His Command, #1
In the dystopian future, two men discover attraction isn’t just dangerous. It’s deadly.
Amazon
B&N
iTunes
On Her Watch, #2
War is raging in the InterNations Territories, and within Lieutenant Liz Grant’s heart.
Amazon
B&N
iTunes
In His Sights, standalone novella
Can two enemies overcome the battles within and the war without to find love? Or will the Revolution destroy their chance at happiness?
Amazon
Coming in 2015, the series finale: Under His Guard
I will be posting the rest of the outtakes from On Her Watch soon, and of course you can still read the brand new short–‘Blondie’ POV–In His Hearthere on my website or at my Facebook page.
I hope all you Americans had a fabulous, fun, and save 4th! Remember to leave a comment, and like, share, love!

If you are not on Facebook, worry not. I won’t leave you hanging. Simply download the PDF here (just save to your desktop then send to your Cloud, Kindle, etc.):

You really should be on Facebook though, because today Blondie is taking over my page and Forever Romance for a Q & A session including a chance to win one of five advance copies of On Her Watch! Don’t miss out on the action. 
​https://www.facebook.com/RieWarrenRomance

And speaking of Liz…are you ready for On Her Watch? T-minus one week,
​y’all! Here’s a little somethin’ sexy to wet your appetite.

Share the freebie news! The more the merrier. Leave me some love on Amazon if you get In His Sights for free? And watch this space, I have some incredibly cool things coming soon to get you ready for the On Her Watch launch.

That’s right. You read correctly. In His Sights–my Don’t Tell novella–is live and it’s super low-priced! Can you say happy
(and hot, sexy, delicious, dangerous, romantic…all the good things)?

Where? Where? ​

Here. Here.

Amazon
What early reviewers are saying:

Sexy Erotic Xciting–IN HIS SIGHTS
“In His Sights was a sexy read that kept this reader on the edge of her seat. Sci-fi thriller met romance as Hawke and Mayce found themselves on the opposite side of the law until one fateful day brought them together where what should have been hate, turned to lust then love.” –Definite S.E.X. A five handcuff review, by Evelise

Amazon–IN HIS SIGHTS
“It is touching to see the effect these two have on each other as their love 
grows. Even though in Mayce’s world their love is forbidden, and destined to be doomed, he is willing to forsake the only life he has known in the name of love. What I loved best about this book was the solid yet sassy style Warren seems to have patented.” 
-5 Stars, Romance Writer, Gemma Brocato

Goodreads–IN HIS SIGHTS
“As I sit here writing this, I’m a wasted puddle of goo.  I have tears streaming down my face and I am hot and bothered.

Mayce and Hawke are well developed – both their characters and their relationship.  And they are HOT!!! Right from the beginning the sex is smokin’ and it never loses that heat.  But what makes this story truly beautiful was the way their love for each other grew.” -5 Stars, Joelle Mendes

BLURB:
These sworn enemies have everything to lose and each other to live for. 

At the outset of the Revolution against the oppressive Company regime, Hawke is a freedom fighter on a mission.
Infiltrate Alpha Territory, kick some Corps ass, and stay alive.His plans unravel when he’s captured by the enemy on his first sortie. Waiting fordeath by the soldier sworn to kill him, all his training couldn’t have prepared him for what happens next.

A corporal in the Company’s military branch, Mayce is a hard-liner intent on ridding his city of the insurgent threat. Yet one look at the gorgeous Freelander named Hawke and years of yearning and unrealized desires change his course permanently.
If discovered, he’ll be branded a traitor and a homosexual—and sentenced to death.


Mayce and Hawke act on their intense and immediate attraction. But amid the escalating war their dangerous trysts come at the risk of their own lives.

Like, Love, Share! Send me a comment. What’s your favorite quote from the book? And don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter, over there in the sidebar.

What can I say, y’all? So far 2014 has been pure madness and mega-awesome. Let’s keep it that way.

COMING APRIL 24th, 2014–In His Sights! What do you think?

EYEGASM! But wait, there’s more:

Can two enemies overcome the battles within and the war without to find love? Or will the revolution destroy their chance at happiness?

At the outset of the revolution against the oppressive Company regime, Hawke is a freedom fighter on a mission. Infiltrate Alpha Territory, kick some Corps ass, and stay alive. His plans unravel when he’s captured by the enemy on his first sortie. Prepared for death by the soldier sworn to kill him, all his training couldn’t have prepared him for what happens next.

A corporal in the Company’s military branch, Mayce is a hard-liner intent on ridding his city of the insurgent threat. Yet one look at the gorgeous Freelander named Hawke and years of yearning and unrealized desires change his course permanently. If discovered, he’ll be branded a traitor and a homosexual—and sentenced to death.

​Mayce and Hawke act on their intense and immediate attraction. But amid the escalating revolution their dangerous trysts come at the risk of their own lives, as Hawke soon finds out.

EXCERPT:

“I’ll let him go, in return for you coming with me without a fight.” Firm lips pulled into a half smile as his gaze boldly delved into mine.

“Do it.”

“Hawke, no!” Timmy fell to his knees when the enemy propelled him away.

Gun swiftly cocked between my shoulder blades, the trooper started walking me down the far end of the alley. “I’d advise the kid to get the fuck out of Alpha before someone else tries to kill him.”

“Find Ryder,” I called back to Timmy who scrabbled to his feet. “Find him, and get home.”

Marching me around a corner and into an even deeper recess where no troops or Freelanders were to be seen, the corpsman kicked open a door and prodded me through it. Pushing me against a wall, he searched me roughly, adding my ammo belt and two knives to his collection. He grasped me by my hair and pulled me further inside. It appeared to be an old storage area, unused for a while judging by the dusty crates stacked against the walls. The building was somewhat secluded if you could ignore the bullets, bombs, and screams crackling in the not too far distance. The sounds of war were a reminder death waited around every corner and it looked like I’d just met mine.

After thoroughly sweeping through the adjoining room, the enemy backed me into a corner. “This should do.”

I firmed up my stance, lifting an eyebrow. “All this for my execution? I’d kinda thought when I died it would be somethin’ more along the lines of fluffy white clouds and fields of flowers.”

He regarded me with detached amusement. “You’ve got a smart mouth.”

“That’s not all that’s smart. Sometimes we rabid Nomads like to read books and shit too.” I glared at him.

Instead of responding, he eyed me all over. And, Jesus Christ, in some sick masochistic part of my soul, I thought he was sexy. He stood there like an open invitation to fuck, except for the gun pointed at my head. Smug and almost magnetic. My breath grew labored, this time not out of fear. Immediate and distracting attraction for the asshole who’d sooner plug a bullet in my brain than blow my cock invaded each and every one of my senses.

One corner of his lips pulled up, revealing neat white teeth and the tip of his tongue. “This is where you try to run, man.”

​Not Nomad, not scumbag, but man-to-man.

“I’ve never run from anything in my life.” I spat at his feet.

In His Sights
In His Sights Goodreads

Are you excited? I cannot wait to fully introduce you to Mayce and Hawke in just a few short weeks! In the meantime, a couple other important bits of business:

Newsletter, I have one! I’m not gonna inundate your inbox with a million pieces of spam, I promise. So, do sign up for quarterly news, and for all my latest releases. It’s over there in the sidebar–mailing list–easy-peasy.

OH! And this. Sugar Daddy, the new edition, is now avail as a paperback. ***squeee***

I wanted to say Happy Valentine’s Day and thanks for all the support and love. My way of doing it is by writing a sweet and sexy short featuring our men from Jingle Bell Rock! This is their Valentine’s Day…or rather, their night  Written in Jack’s POV because he’s just so delicious.

HEART BEATS. Candy hearts, birthday cake, and the most important question of all.

Wanna download to your Kindle? Go for it. Or you can read it below.

FREE PDF DOWNLOAD HERE!!

HEART BEATS_RIE WARREN

Download instructions for your Kindle (coz I’m cool like that wink_wink):

Option one: Forward the downloaded file to your Kindle email address (yes, you have one!), sync/check on your Kindle, and Booyah!

Option two: Use the ‘Send to Kindle’ free app here (I use this, it’s awesome!). After you download it all you have to do is hover over the pdf, right click, click ‘send to kindle’ and…Booyah!

Like, Share, Love!

xoxo~

Special thanks to Gilly Wright’s Red Penhttps://www.facebook.com/GillyWrightsRedPen for the fantastic edit on
​ such short notice!

WARNING: Rated NSFW and 18+ for hot sexual M/M content

HEART BEATS

February fourteenth. One and a half months after Brian invited me to his place for the first time early Christmas morning. Big, blond, shy, and sexier than any man had a right to be, he’d opened his home to me—the rootless wanderer. He’d asked for nothing in return, my big gay Beef. He’d shown me more generosity and feeling in just a few hours than all the other men before. All’s I’d done was introduce him to passion, and the ecstasy of having his ass filled beneath a cheap strand of Christmas lights.

I’d fallen in love with the bouncer the moment I laid eyes on him; he’d just been too naive to realize it. I knew he watched me with starving eyes, hungry for the guitar-playing, gritty-voiced singer. I made a tick in the lining of my guitar case every time he followed me while I busked for extra money.

He took me to his place, a welcome refuge after months of worry over my brother while he battled cancer, fed me, and brought me to bed with him on my favorite holiday of the year. I knew his soft kisses and his hard body would either be the beginning or the end of me.

It turned out to be the beginning…of us.

I’d had him every way imaginable. On his knees. Flat on his back with his thighs hiked to his chest. I’d fucked him, made love to him. I’d made a home with him here in Charleston, South Carolina, my first solid home in what felt like years. I’d traveled the rockabilly blues circuit through the southern states since the time I figured out how to strum a guitar and sing a soulful tune. I sent money back to Louisiana for my brother, enough he could enroll in college. And I only returned when he got sick. Then I had to get more creative about how I earned a few bucks. I didn’t regret my choices. I sang away the pain. And I’d been just fine, mighty damn fine until Brian ‘Beef’ Carroway slipped right into my heart and stole my damn breath away.

I wished he’d been my first though, as I’d been his. He was somethin’ else, special as they came and rock solid too.

He still blushed every damn time I said I love you.

Saying all that, it wasn’t always les bons temps. I came with baggage, the kind I’d ignored from my past. The kind stored in a unit back in N’awlins we drove to box up and bring back. Coming out to his family was another trip, one we made together to the Midwestern farmlands where he’d grown up. Papa Carroway hadn’t been happy. His brothers and sister were just glad he’d found someone. The momma of this good Lutheran family met us at the airport before we flew out. She’d hugged me, loved some more on Brian, and told him to give his dad time. She’d handed him a box of homebaked strudel. Inside was a note:

Don’t you take that man for granted, Brian. I could tell he loved you by the way he stood up to your father. It might not be an easy road, but it’s yours. And you’ve got the Carroway starch in you.

My brother’s slow recovery after the successful bone marrow transplant was more swampy terrain we had to slog through. I’d been torn—all the nights during Christmas week I’d stayed with him, bone-tired and wrung out from worry. Beef didn’t want me shattered like that. It was a relief when Justin was released to our care. Fate did a little juju in our favor that week because the apartment below became available. We stretched our income even more to settle him where we could keep a close eye, but having our own space was worth the dent in our wallets.


Besides, money didn’t make much sense without love. I’d rather sing a tune and dance a two-step than count the pennies in my bank account.

Alone in our apartment, I waited for Beef to get home. I’d begged Jane for the night off. Jack Cotille and the Crazy Boys had better things to do than jam on stage at Mosh. At least, I did ’cause Valentine’s Day was also Brian’s birthday. I’d showered an hour ago, lightly stroking my shaft until my balls hummed with urgency. Edging it out, making my cock hard, the veins ropey, the skin hot, I could’ve busted my nut in an instant but I was saving it. I’d cleaned myself up, tidied and trimmed because Beef was gonna get his Valentine’s treat, his birthday cake and cock, and he was gonna eat it too.

The door banged open. I barely finished stringing the red heart lights over our bed to replace the Christmas twinklies. I liked the holidays—Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving. They reminded me of a better time when momma and pop were still alive. Even though I’d lost them, I’d hung onto tradition. This time tradition came in the form of five-foot strands of bargain-priced, heart-shaped lights spreading a deep red glow over our bedroom.

Excitement sang through me when Brian called out, “Jack?”

Oh yeah, I was Jack be nimble, Jack be quick. I spread out on the bed. I had my scuffed cowboy boots on, my battered Stetson angled over my eyes. I wore nothing else except a wicked grin. I liked to watch my man stumble and flush when he stared at my black hair, my chest, my throbbing dick.

My tongue felt heavy, my cock was hard. “Bedroom, cher.”

His boots sounded loud on the wood floors. I imagined him throwing his leather jacket aside, loosening the button on his pants. He’d smell like smoke, beer. He hated it, but I loved the way the club clung to him. It was sweat and man and so goddamn hot.

He appeared in the doorway.

I crooked an eyebrow. My Hagstrom acoustic was slung across my groin. I strummed it.

“Holy shit.” Beef dragged a hand across his mouth. “You’re beautiful, baby.”

“Get naked for me, birthday boy.”

I played the guitar and sang under my breath, watching his eyes take me in. I liked to tease him that he’d ‘beefed’ me up since I’d moved in. My chest had filled in, my lanky frame a little more tough. My stomach covered by slabs of muscle he liked to suck before he licked the black treasure trail that led to the base of my cock.

“What you waitin’ for, beb?”

“What?”

I lifted the guitar enough to give him a peek at my balls beneath. “Clothes. Gone. Now.”

Beef jerked off his boots. He skimmed the skin tight fuck-hot leathers down his legs. Commando beneath, his cock thwacked his belly, the sound shimmering through me. Goddamn that body of his. He was hot as hell. Poetry in the making. Powerful muscles and so fuckin’ big everywhere, so gentle in his spirit. When we made love, it seemed like he strived to get into my soul. And he did, every damn time, leaving me filled with his purity even while I spent myself inside him.

“Let me guess. You’ve got a cake hidden under there.” A dimple played on his cheek while he threw his shirt aside.

“Not a cake. My cock.” I strummed a few chords. The reverb hit my balls, tightening them. “Wanna see me come for you?”
His chest heaved. Rivulets of sweat tracked down his abdomen, wetting the golden hairs that fanned around the base of his rigid red cock.

“Yeah.” Brian sat in the chair beside the bed. His breaths knocked hard against his chest. The slit of his cockhead spit out a diamond of clear fluid and he worked it in with his palm.

The sight made my nuts boil.

I licked my lips and played another few chords, humming the verse of his song, Sunlight.

It never failed to get him hot.

He widened his thighs. Downy with sun-spun hair, his plum-sized sac hid the secret of his taint. The hidden star I liked to tease for hours on end until he begged me to fuck him.

“Whatever you want. It’s your birthday.” I laid the guitar aside.
Teasing my rod with a light touch of fingertips, I watched Brian struggle to breath. I splayed one hand on my abs, the other lifting the thick length off my stomach. I pointed my cock at his face as he sat across from me.

“Or maybe you want cake.”

So dark with desire they looked black, his eyes locked onto mine. “You baked?”

I gathered a palmful of pre-come and slithered it down my shaft. Brian’s gaze followed. Planting my heels on the edge of the bed, I showed him my balls, the underside of my dick. My cock pulsed in my hand when he leaned forward to breathe across my hole. His fingers gripped my ass but I pushed him back to the chair. Heat made his cheeks redder than ever.


“I baked, beb.” I uncovered a dish that sat at my side. The imperfect cupcakes were messy, heavy with melting chocolate frosting. Taking one in my hand, I smeared the thick, dark icing all over my cock.

“Oh, God.” He licked his lips.

The decadent rush and his reaction zinged through me. I could smell him, the scent of man mingling with chocolate. The frosting my lube, I stroked, twisting my fist. Heels on the bed I was totally open for Brian.

His dick got even harder. His hand fell to it.

“Uh uh, cher. That’s mine.”

Face taut with need, he growled at me. That just made me widen my legs more. I pushed my pulsing cock toward him.

“I thought it was my birthday.” Ragged breaths made his voice low and husky. “Where’s my present?”


I fell back on my elbows. My head craned aside. My hips snapped, my ass flexed and my thighs tightened. “Right here. Right here,” I groaned. With three long pumps through my fist, I erupted.

I captured my come in my palm, aching and moaning as each shot spurted out. I spread it all over my dick, finally offering it to Beef. Diving between my legs, he attacked me. He cleaned up the come and the chocolate, slurping his lips up and down my shaft. Lips messy, he filled his mouth with me, making me hard all over again. I could come all night with my man.

Every last drop licked up, Beef crawled over my body. He opened his lips to mine, savoring my taste, sharing it with me.

The hard, thick jut of his cock thrust against my stomach. I pushed him off of me, onto his knees before me. That cock was enormous, pulsating, the most beautiful I’d ever seen. Slick from pre-come dripping from the slit, the shaft shined. I deep throated him. The crown burst into my throat and I swallowed. Kneading his ass cheeks first, I moved my fingers to the crease of his thighs, teasing the damp blond hair. His spit covered hot length withdrew from my swollen lips.

His hips pumped, his dick danced along the side of my face. He kept his hands clasped behind my neck but he never face-fucked me. He seemed as entranced as I was by the way I tried to capture his cock without moving my head.

A groan rippled out of him when I glanced up. “What’d I tell you I was g’on give your for your birthday?”

His fists balled in my hair when I licked and sucked and wetted his sacs. He tried to lift me higher but I was as a stubborn as he was.

“Tell me. Or it ain’t gonna happen, cher.”

“Jack jizz, you said I could get Jack jizz.”

“You already done had that. So where do you wanna come?” I snuck my tongue to the damn behind his balls, adding pressure to his prostate.

“In your ass.” His hands flexed open on my head and he pushed me back.

“Bien. S’what I want too.” He’d only ever topped me once. Now I wanted him inside me, thrusting. I wanted to clamp down in him so hard his eyes spun. I wanted Brian to pour his seed into me. I rolled onto all-fours, giving myself to him.

“Jesus Christ. You prepped for me?” A rash of color spread up his chest when I looked behind me. Sweat popped out on his forehead and his arms clenched in stark relief as he grasped my ass to open me up.

I’d oiled my hole, fingered it, played with myself all night. Getting ready. Beef was big, and I wanted to take him good. One day I’d have his fist inside, in my deepest reaches, filling me to bursting.

With a sinful smile, I clasped my cheeks, slapping them. “Oui. But don’t worry, it’s cherry flavor, your favorite.”

“Your ass is my favorite.”

I started to laugh but sucked in a hiss when his stubble rasped my cleft and his tongue darted inside. “Bien! Yes!”

He groaned, digging in deep. Wet, smacking, sucking sounds came from behind me. I grabbed the headboard and shuddered all the way down my body. Riding his tongue, I arched. I had to choke my cock. I wanted to come with him inside me but the slippery lunges were so good. My pucker was so open, I practically begged for his cock to shoot off inside me.

Panting, I was dazed with need when Beef lowered me to the bed and turned me around. His hands moved slowly up my thighs. His gaze never left mine. I heard the squelch of lube he spurted over his cock. I stroked him, our fingers twining over the meaty shaft soon to be in me.

He poised at my entrance, thick head slick and ready. “Are you sure?”

“Oh wait!”

He hovered with the broad, red tip of his cock at my entrance. His arms strained and his chest heaved.

“I bought chocolates too.”

“I don’t want goddamn chocolates, I just want you.” His lips crashed into mine.
His dick aimed and arrowed. The head popped in. My ring stretched, accepting him. Everything was wet from our cocks to our chests to our hands gripping and gliding.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and sped his ingress. Fully seated, he stilled, waiting, watching. Kissing my lips, biting my shoulder, skimming fingers across my stomach until I shivered and opened.

“Oh yeah,” Brian breathed.

I clutched his back. He lifted me off the bed. The hair on his belly scoured the head of my erection until the exquisite pain of almost coming made me yell. Every time he withdrew, I gasped. With each thrust, I swore. Long and slow he glided in and out until I was at breaking point, begging to shoot my load.

“Look at me when we come,” he said.

The sheets slipped against my back. His huge body tightened above me. My neck strained but I didn’t shut my eyes. Pound-pound-pound, he drove into me. Then he fisted my cock between us. The animal sounds, the primal scents, the thump of his dick inside of me made me howl. I came like never before, a hot spike shoved right through my cock as come shot across both our chests. My ass tightened on him. He was so steely hard I felt every lustful throb as he twisted above me, beating inside me. Filling me, overflowing me.

The entire bed was one big wet stain. I laughed when he sank down beside me, flinching when he landed in what appeared to be the splash zone. Lying on our sides, we cooled down. I kissed him and he smiled. He threw a leg across mine to draw me closer. His hands settled on my ass, mine on his back.

“I got you something too, Jack.”

“Oh I know you did. It’s warm and dripping from my ass right now.”

He blushed, and I loved that. I ran my fingers down his chest to his thigh, playing along relaxed muscle.

“Not just that.” Pulling my hand up, he kissed my palm.

“Nothin’ wrong with that, just so you know.” I crossed my arms behind my head when he stood from the bed. Goddamn. The wide V-cut of his shoulders to waist, his incredibly tight ass, his sturdy thighs made my mouth dry.

He retrieved something from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Rattling the pastel-colored box, he grinned.

“Candy hearts?” My voice was guttural from having him so far down my throat.

Brian slipped under the covers beside me. He didn’t say a word as he kissed my shoulder and opened the box. It was corny, silly, friggin’ perfect for me.

​He held up one of the candies before sliding it into my mouth. Be Mine.

I curled my tongue around his fingertips, sucking them along with the powdery treat. His eyes dilated before he shut them. A groan rumbled through his chest.

I reached for the box and he shook one onto my palm. Puppy Love. I nipped his earlobe, growling. Taking it in his mouth, he grimaced while he crunched. I chuckled, popping a few more in my mouth.

I dug through the box and made him eat another. I Love U.

Sliding onto his lap, I kissed the confectionary pink stain from his lips. Our cocks rose between us. My hands in his hair and his on my hips, I pushed my balls against his until the moist smack of male flesh made his eyes roll.

“Want me to ride you with my candy ass, cher?”

“Not yet.” Tense, horned up, Brian moved me off of him. “Ah, fuck this.” He shook a fistful of candy hearts into his hand and bent over them. Tossing a few aside, he mumbled under his breath. “I know it’s in here, dammit. I watched them put it in.”

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” I reached for his wrist but he jerked away from me. “C’mon, lemme have a look.”

He finally held a candy heart up between two fingers, but it was turned around so I couldn’t see the wording. A rosy flush brightened his cheeks, his throat, his chest. “This is the one.”

“Is it?” I made a grab for it but he raised his hand higher.

He looped an arm around my waist and dragged me across him. Stroking my face, he kissed me with lips red and swollen from lust.

“You’re the one.”

The deep color in his eyes, the hammering of his heart against me made me nuzzle his mouth. “Am I?”

He turned the heart around. Marry Me.

I thought my damn fool heart would crash out of my chest. Tears swam before my eyes so fast I was blinded. I swiped them clear and shook the rest of the little love candies onto the bed.

“What are you looking for?” Brian sounded hoarse.

“Ain’t there one that says Yes?”

“Get over here, baby.” He chewed his bottom lip.

I fell across him, scattering the remaining hearts all over the bed and onto the floor. But that didn’t matter because Brain gave me his heart, and it was all mine.

​“Is that a yes?”

I moved my mouth with deliberate slowness until my sweet breath melted against his lips. He gasped, giving me the perfect opening to kiss him until he whimpered and groaned. But first, “Yes, cher.”

…and his Bad Idea release day!

Continuing where I left off with my dynamic guest, let’s get to it:

You recently signed with the Corvisiero Agency, last winter I believe? How has your experience with an agent been different than without one?

​Much less frantic! I did it right at the New Year.

In my dayjob, I write film and television and my rep team (agent/manager/lawyer) handle all of the negotiations and details for each deal. That’s invaluable. When I first submitted my first romance novel, I never imagined it would be anything more than a fun sideline…so having an agent on it seemed like overkill. Hell, I have a completely separate agent for mainstream fiction/non-fiction, but I knew how to read a contract, so I didn’t bother her. And then Hot Head took off…and I realized that I wanted to focus real energy on romance fiction. I’ve been a professional writer since I was twenty-four, and I tend to be ruthlessly strategic about professional planning.

Signing with Saritza (Hernandez) at Corvisiero gave me someone to handle all the little things that I’d never think of or never have the time to manage. S’funny… she didn’t “hustle” me to get me signed. We had talked on and off socially, back before I thought an agent for romance fiction made much sense. And then there came this point when I was wading through hundreds of emails in a day and starting to lose track of what needed my focus at any given moment. I have a bad habit of saying yes to too much because I always figure I can sleep or eat later. Bad for my sanity and bad for writing!


THAT is what Sary does for me. She handles the details and helps direct my focus mindfully. One of the greatest things she did before I signed was present a battleplan for what she could do for me in particular. Every writer is different, every agent ditto. And having an agent that partners with you for mutual evolution is a blessed thing, devoutly to be wished! LOL That battleplan has become a powerful protection and touchstone in all my decisions. Plus, I’ve been able to hand over a lot of the minutia to her, and also to brainstorm potential projects in an intelligent way. She keeps a close watch on the markets and the publishing ecosystem… and that gives me a clear sense of where my energy is best spent.

*Gushing* Yes, Saritza is awesome! I just signed with her and am giddy as hell to be working with her on my Carolina Bad Boys project.

Next question (and this is one I love to see from both sides, especially with the explosion of self-pubbing): Would you ever consider self-publishing? Under what conditions, or with what story?

No.

That’s a short, blunt answer, and there’s a pile of logic and experience under the ticking of that mattress.

I know a couple people that have made a success of self-publishing, but I understand the trade-offs, and (at this point) can’t imagine any reasonable scenario that would justify them. Every report of dazzling success in self-publishing involves someone who built an author platform somewhere else and then harvested benefits in self-publishing based on that platform.

Can you make money for yourself by publishing yourself, sure. But that’s like saying you could make The Avengers if someone gave you $300 Million. No, actually you couldn’t do any such thing…because as a producer you’d have to sign actors and designers and technical experts and shooting locations… all those staffers aren’t interchangeable cogs. Those people have creative relationships with established producers/companies and as a member of the Hollywood studio system you would access those relationships in a different way. Partnering with a publisher is no different. As part of a great team you cultivate relationships that help you grow creatively, financially, and professionally.

I am a writer, but I have other skills useful to the publication process. Still, it behooves me to hand those tasks over to a team of professionals that know how to do their jobs (as publishers) as well as I know how to do my job. I would always rather work with a gifted publisher who understands the market and the mass-media machine so that I can get on with the business of writing my next project. Like any partnership, that evolves over time. Hell, for some folks even finding a good publisher becomes a horrible chore…but that’s part of any profession: finding allies and skirting jerks. The fact that there are shady, shitty publishers just means we should be vigilant and forthright so that these shysters curl up and die.

Whenever people crow about the bales of money they can make in self-pub, I ask that question. What do you GAIN by self-publishing? With a handful of exceptions, if you can make a fortune in self-publishing you can make even more working mindfully with a talented, credible publisher. ALL of the effort you’ll pour into being a publisher for yourself is effort that won’t go into your writing. Worse, because of the “panacea” of self-publishing, a lot of crappy books make it to market that shouldn’t see the bottom of a birdcage. As a self-published author you automatically have to battle your way to market through thickets of shitty, badly produced books. Can you? Sure…but that’s an awful lot of effort spent on publishing books rather than writing them.

I’ll admit to being smitten by the self-publishing success stories floating around but have thus far ignored the siren call for many of the reasons you stated. I would definitely like to give it a whirl at some point in the future though.

You’re a very active member of the gay romance community and president of Rainbow Romance Writers of America…how do you want to see gay romance change? For readers? For writers?

I’d like to see us outgrow the ghetto completely and emerge as a robust public community. We are strongest when we stand in the light and encourage others to do the same.

I value the LGBT romance tribe deeply and I’ve done everything in my power to strengthen it however I can. Our market and readership is drastically different than it was five (or even two) years ago. We have grown and changed over the past decade, but at times I see folks rehashing old battles and operating as if we are still a little pocket universe.

That’s ridiculous. We are reviewed in major papers. Our books sell hundreds of thousands of copies. We have become a major presence at all of the big romance events and just watched a gay romance title sit on all the major lists for months…and yet I still hear authors insisting that we’re somehow persecuted because some folks don’t read our books. To that I’ll say, a hell of a lot do and more will.

I have a theory about this… LGBT romance in many ways has mirrored the advances of the LGBT community in miniature. We had our:

• Clandestine gathering in clubs and secret rooms huddling together for safety (groups /forums), speaking in code words (M/M, GFY) to escape detection, and sharing our experiences informally because we needed a safe outlet (fan fiction, slash) and any LGBT content is good simply by virtue of existing.
• Defiant, “we’re here, we’re queer” demonstrations and displays… when we point out to the mass-market (fighting with RT and RWA for recognition) that there are LOTS of us hidden in closets (LGBT characters in mainstream books) and moving among them in closets the world over (ebook revolution lets people buy in private). Public outrage at mistreatment and bashing (Tara Taylor Quinn, MTM, etc)
• Gradual absorption into the mainstream as they discover they can make a buck, moving from acceptance to celebration… (LGBT romance events at RT, RWA 2012 brouhaha), appearing in mass market properties (Lover At Last, Suzanne Brockman’s SEALs), coverage in tolerant major press as part of the landscape (RT Bookreviews, Publisher’s Weekly, USA Today), being courted by media conglomerates who can read the bottom line (NY pubs scouting LGBT titles, distinguishing ourselves from erotica)

Now, part of that is because I’m a gay guy in my forties and DOMA was just overturned. LGBT rights have moved on as well, and I think LGBT romance needs to do the same. Victimhood is a seductive and toxic mode. Some of the books I read in our genre treat LGBT people as if they were sealed in aspic in 1988. That’s a bummer. The kneejerk “persecution” complaint is old hat now and there are better (and more potent) responses to prejudice or ignorance. “The love that dare not speak its name” gets plenty of airtime and defense and we can stand in the light. That’s cause for celebration, not apology.

My point is… we face a different landscape now as professionals, and we need to face it professionally. I have zero interest in re-fighting battles we’ve already won or in quatting in a constant pose of persecution as if we’re all trapped in an afterschool special from 1983. I also hold no truck with the (all-too-addictive) politics of victimhood; I’ve watched that shit destroy movements within the literal (as opposed to literary) LGBT community. Squabbles, snits, and unprofessionalism reflect poorly on all of us.


Writing is a profession, and treating LGBT romance professionally helps all of us at every stage. Writers have to earn their readers; readers should demand the best of their books. The strength we’ve gained by gathering in places like GRL and the Goodreads group have transformed our writers and our books. That’s fabulous. But we aren’t gathering as a community because we are victimized, but because we learn together and evolve together. We come together, not in weakness, but strength.

Wow! Those are incredibly powerful ideas. I’m all fired up now. I love your vision and no-nonsense myth-busting.

What are RRW’s 2013 goals or objectives?

As always, the RRW board is trying to do everything possible to help members build their professional networks, their audiences,  and their craft…but that seems like a shameless beauty pageant answer. 
This year, a lot of our goals have been procedural… finalizing and upgrading the new website, getting our classes launched and operational, updating the by-laws to reflect the actual activities of the chapter, and also “diplomatic” communication between events, publishers, and organizations that need to meet on “neutral” ground. We’ve continued the event strategy begun last year, but we’ve also initiated our first ever in-person meetup, a Writers Workshop at GRL2013 offering classes and networking for authors of LGBT romance.

Last year was very razzle-dazzle in terms of tackling mass-market media and making the chapter a visible presence at genre gatherings. I’m very proud of the connections we made by working together and those partnerships continue to bear fruit for all our members.

There is no gay romance category for either the RWA Golden Heart Awards or the RITAs. I was wondering if Rainbow has addressed this? Or do you believe there shouldn’t be a separate category, and that LGBT writers should enter regardless of the ‘pairing’ in their novels?

RRW hasn’t addressed this because none of the board has had any particular interest in preserving the ghetto we’ve seen spring up around the genre.

I’ll be frank. I don’t WANT an LGBT “category” anywhere: in contests, media, or elsewhere. A lot of people will disagree with me on that but I think it’s a honey-trap. Sure it sounds appealing, but it also segregates us in ways that make us separate and unequal. What I want is LGBT romance to be considered as romance, period. If we are going to say that gender doesn’t matter then it shouldn’t. For the same reasons, I as a gay man do not fight for “gay marriage” but for marriage equality. I want us on the bestseller lists and I want us to deserve to be on those lists. I want all of our books to keep getting better and reach wider audiences.

Still, it seems so sad for a subsection of romance entirely predicated on authenticity, bravery and tolerance to BEG for labels that presume all sorts of nonsense about human intimacy. I understand the impulse, but it’s a sobering one. Now, I’ll happily point out when someone tries to scrub us out of existence (like the More Than Magic fiasco last year, which backfired horrible on the bigots who started it), I’ll proudly go and kick ass at romance conventions and public events to bring attention and new readers to LGBT romance…but I’m not ever going to waste time trying to reupholster the ghetto to make it more comfortable. Ugh.

So… all that blather is a longwinded way of saying: Nope. I never want to see an LGBT category. And I cringe at the notion that the “only way we’ll get noticed” is by cordoning off a little patch of protected ground. Our authors, our books, and our readers deserve better treatment than pigeonholing.

Right on. *scurries over to GR to remove my m-m book shelf* Kidding! (No I’m not…)

What is your next novel? What can you tell us about it? When will it be released? (C’mon, please? I’m jonesing over here!)

Well now… I know a lot of contemporary-only readers feel slighted and I’m making full amends.

As fate would have it I’ve just turned in a brand new contemporary novel called Bad Idea…about comic book fans and movie monster makers. It’s coming out this fall from Dreamspinner: “A reclusive comic book artist gets swept of his feet by a rowdy FX designer who struggles to prove that love isn’t a disaster and heroes don’t need capes.”

Bad Idea is set in Manhattan and got a lot of the rawness and humor of the Hot Head world, but it covers different turf. It’s about a super-shy illustrator and an outgoing makeup artist who collide and collude on an erotic comic about a sex demon named Scratch…a project which kinda destroys and saves their lives and…by extension pop culture. LOL No big. 

Bad Idea is the first book in the “Itch” series about guys wrestling with their own figurative demons as they turn a homoerotic demon character loose on comics, games, movies, etc. Which makes this a gay romance about gay romance changing the world. A lot of my own experience working in film and comics has leaked into the book, natch.


Actually, my paranormal “Scratch” series started back in May and intertwines with these contemporary “Itch” books; folks who read Horn Gate have already seen the comic being written in Bad Idea, i.e. the first story-within-the-story. Both series can be read independently but for omnivorous readers, a lot of thematic overlaps and resonances intertwine in fun ways.

​What perfect timing! I can’t wait to get my grabby little hands on this!

Book Blurb:

Some mistakes are worth making.

Reclusive comic book artist Trip Spector spends his life doodling super-square, straitlaced superheroes, hiding from his fans, and crushing on his unattainable boss until he meets the dork of his dreams. Silas Goolsby is a rowdy FX makeup creator with a loveless love life and a secret streak of geek who yearns for unlikely rescues and a truly creative partnership.

Against their better judgment, they fall victim to chemistry, and what starts as infatuation quickly grows tender and terrifying. With Silas’s help, Trip gambles his heart and his art on a rotten plan: sketching out Scratch, a “very graphic novel” that will either make his name or wreck his career. But even a smash can’t save their world if Trip retreats into his mild-mannered rut, leaving Silas to grapple with betrayal and emotions he can’t escape.

What will it take for this dynamic duo to discover that heroes never play it safe?


Go read the comical Bad Idea excerpt Omg! “I’m cruising a corpse.” Chuckle-chuckle-chuckle! And then pick it up here:

Buy Links:

Amazon
All Romance Ebooks
Dreamspinner Press

Connect with Damon:

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Cheers so much for chilling with me once again, Damon, and congrats on your new release today! Now, I’ve got some reading to do–Trip and Silas are waiting for me