Trainwreck Book One
“Trainwreck: Book One” by Michele Micheal Rakes, Drai Bearwomyn, Tina Adamski, Dan Skinner –
“Logging on to the LAPD secure server, Vince checked his inbox, and was pleased to see the M.E.’s preliminary report. Mac was right, the victim had distilled water in her lungs, but the cause of death wasn’t drowning. The girl had suffered a heart attack. Under the post-mortem notes Mac detailed the cause of death as a heart attack during a time of extreme stress. The deteriorated condition of her heart was the result of severe malnutrition and ongoing physical abuse. The report concluded with the manner of death as homicide and was accompanied by photos detailing the wounds. Also noted were the scars indicating long-term abuse and the telltale signs of significant sexual assault. No DNA evidence yet. Mac suspected the body had been washed before storage. The promise of a detailed report to follow, including a narrower window for time of death. At the moment, Mac suspected the girl died sometime Wednesday night. Determination of exact TOD would take some time, he said, due to the body’s decomposition being retarded by cold storage. Presumably, the guy killed her Wednesday, kept the girl around in—what? A chest freezer? Dumped her Thursday night? Vince didn’t like it, didn’t like homicide, but something niggled in the back of his brain. Significant sexual assault. In the place where Vince kept the nasty stuff locked up tight, something cracked open just a tiny bit. Vague memories slithered into his forebrain. -Shut that shit down. Focus on the victim, Sweetwater. Vince clicked through the photos, studying their implications. From the level of bruising, it appeared she had struggled violently against her bonds. Maybe in panic. The fear of drowning can produce a kind of madness. The mental image of the pretty girl being held under water, her green eyes wide with fear until she stopped thrashing, flashed through his mind. Vince buried the nightmare. Instead, he sifted through the pictures, looking for the ones of her back. Small puncture wounds riddled her skin. Some of the injuries appeared ripped, like a hook had been imbedded in her flesh and then torn out. The pattern seemed familiar. There were fresh wounds and old scars. She had suffered the same abuse many times. Mac apparently had no guess as to what weapon was used to make the marks.”
Start reading this book for free: http://amzn.to/1UNHb1k
Pride Promotions book tour for Trainwreck still chugging along, come join the ride.
Follow Pride Promotions blog tour and giveaway for Trainwreck the series on Wednesdays.
Pride Promotions
In February, I will team up with Pride Promotions for a weeks long blog tour to introduce Detective Sergeant Vincent Sweetwater, the hero of Trainwreck the Series. January 25th, 2016 was the release day for the first in a five part series. Vince is a trainwreck. So is his life and sexuality. A true sexually sadistic killer may be the one who brings Vince off the tracks of self-destruction and back into a life of redemption.
The Sense of Accomplishment
When writing a story, I look to the characters first, long before the story. Once I have an idea in my head, I begin to wonder how my newly birthed characters will react in a certain situation. Obstacles to put in their way are sometimes conscious choices and other times it is something that flows organically as I write the story. Sometimes I feel like the cruel bitch being purposely mean to my characters, but then I think about how they’ll overcome the psychological Mack truck I have bearing down on them; I realize it’ll be good for them in the end.
As a writer who tends to lean more toward the dark side, themes others might not want to touch, but I find those are the books I’m drawn to as a reader. Some are so dark, even I can’t finish them, or do so at my own peril. Writing characters deal with deep emotional and physical scars, while making them entirely real, is what I enjoy about the story writing process. I like to see my characters drag themselves from the depths of self-destruction, or escape the hands of a truly villainous adversary.
Sometimes, I write BDSM, and I have a special character, Vincent Sweetwater, who delves deep into his own psychological trauma’s through BDSM. He doesn’t feel sick, or suffers his deep self loathing when he’s with the man who makes him feel whole. For him, BDSM is his savior, but his Master is his the one who truly saves him. Vince has many struggles: his estrangement with his wife, a woman he’s loved all his life, and his desire to be held by the man whose whip made him feel whole. In pieces, Vince longs to put himself back together, but he’s a puzzle with pieces missing.
Kane is a young man who never imagined his world being anything but lonely. This poor man suffers for many reasons and he needs a savior. To me, I felt his savior needed to suffer too. I wanted someone who would be a perfect protector for Kane, and then gave him deeply ingrained flaws.
This is me, I like the anti-hero, the man who can barely keep himself emotionally solvent. A man on the edge, dangling his feet over the precipice, and trying to decide to jump or not. Behind him is a group of folks who hope, beg, and pray the fall never happens. I’m often inspired by music when I develop a character. Currently, I’m listen to Seether’s Broken, and I can’t help the knocking of two new characters at my door, but they have to wait. I need to finish Fourth and Long, and give Trainwreck another read over because my ballsy ass decided it was time to pimp Trainwreck in person at a conference. Foolhardy? Perhaps. Will I fall flat on my face? Maybe. Will my skin be the color of my hair (pink)? Possibly. Could this be the biggest cockup of my life? Doubtful. Not when wonderful things are happening for me now. A grandbaby on the way, my 14 year anniversary coming up, and my first conference, all in one month. September will prove to be interesting. My son’s birthday might be the date my restless grandbaby will decide to grace us with her presence.
A lot to look forward to in the coming months. A lot of challenges. I say bring it on. I’m ready. Even if I’m not ready, I will be. Thanks for reading. Just needed to get some thoughts out of my head before I had to go to work. Mostly, how happy I am to have Saving Kane out to the world and now looking to get Jackson McCoy and Irus Beaumont to the universe, along with Vincent Sweetwater, Mica Sweetwater, and Greg Dunne.
Mikey
Cold Darkness by Michele Micheal Rakes
Girlfriends. Wives. Lovers.
At some point they all nag, but only Kilar, a vampire demon, can nag her way into a possession, taking over Lance’s body for a night of sexual exploration.
Lance, Kilar’s blood slave, cannot escape and giving into her whims only leads to more devastation. Trapped in a psychic link, Lance grows weary and weak with her constant demand for freedom.
Kilar’s body remains hidden by the vampire tribunal due to a loathsome pact Lance made with them in order to contain his destructive girlfriend and prevent Armageddon.
So, what’s a guy to do? Kill the nag? The thought has crossed his mind…but first he has to find her.
Excerpt
Love and hate was the only way Kilar could feel anything for him. Part of her ached inside for tormenting Lance, but she couldn’t help herself. The jerk was out there living his life while she rotted in a hole, sealed in by the LA vamps. Lance had given her up to save the world. Ten years ago she had loved him. Now, it twisted into something insane.
“Wake up. It’s time to go out.”
Lance groaned and scratched his side.
“I said, let’s go!”
Lance fell from the bed. “What the?”
“Feeding time.”
“I’m too wasted. Let’s go to sleep.”
“No. I want to feed. You’re the only way I can, Lance. You owe me that much.”
“I seem to owe you a lot,” he mumbled. “You know it’s only psychological, right? I’m the one who gets juiced.”
Kilar tapped into the anger that ripped through him and his thoughts of being her blood whore, his body already sobering, metabolizing the alcohol and drugs.
“Blood slave, Lance. You’re not a blood whore. You benefit from it too. It’s why you look so youthful after ten years of drinking and drugging. Oh, let’s not forget driving fast. Or wrecking even faster. How many broken bones? Not to mention all the years in extreme sports. The dangerous stunts.”
“You sound like my wife. There’s good money in stunt work. You enjoy my lifestyle.”
“I’m tired of putting you back together.”
“Then stop. Let me die in peace.”
“More like pieces. Now, let’s go.”
“You’re driving. I’m gonna pass out. You’re on your own, sweetheart.”
It was rare for him to allow her complete control. Only once or twice when driving across country did he give over his body. Lazy drunk knew how much energy it drew from her mind, but she was hungry. Kilar paced in the dark. Her vision took over his and her mind commandeered his body. She stopped him in front of the mirror in the hallway.
“You look like crap, Lance. You need to brush your hair, at least.”
Kilar finger-brushed his hair into submission.
“I don’t care what you do, just don’t wake me up,” he snarled. His consciousness crawled into a dark, hushed place in his mind to sleep.
“Lance?”
She looked in the mirror again.
“Lance?” she said aloud, watching his lips move as his voice repeated her words. “Cool, I’m going to have a lot of fun tonight, Lance.” His smile broadened. “First thing’s first, we’re going to shower and get dressed up nice.”
*****
She brought the Lamborghini to a stop in front of a club, opening the door, she tossed the valet her keys. Lance can eat dirt. She allowed the valet to handle his baby.
Kilar needed a drink.
People stared. They couldn’t help it; her blood aura surrounded Lance. People were drawn in for the kill. It irritated Kilar. Sycophantic blood bags.
Yet, hunger drove her mad. To hell with what might happen when a little human draws her attentions. In the back of her mind Lance rolled over in a drunken haze.
Blood, warm and inviting, pulsed through the human bodies. Kilar’s cooled in Lance’s veins. Feeling crocodilian, she moved through the writhing bodies, unhurried while spindling nefarious instincts within the crowd. The music thumped in his chest. Dancing quickened despite the chill following Lance through the room. Skin glistened even as their breath frosted over as Kilar slithered through the mass of malevolent flesh. The sensation of standing in a freezer on a blistering desert day surged through the club, like breakers in a rising tsunami. Each wave greater than the next.
Tempo increased. Kilar’s bloodlust rose along with the pheromones in the room. Something else peaked. Desire. Actual physical desire.
With the Full Moon comes Cold Darkness
This is an exciting moment for me, the release of my first publication, and I never thought it would happen.
As a kid, all I had were my stories. Every project for school I could write a story for, I would. I wrote a novella for history, blending my own family history into a tale of the civil war. I’ll never forget Charlie and the chicken leg he pulled from his pocket. He’s always nicking food from somewhere. Never knew when he’d eat, I guess. Thanks Mom. I wrote a pirate tale for English class and had a teacher who made my only assignment for the whole year writing stories for him to read. Arthurian tales, witches, pirates, and vagabonds all found their way into my stories. I’d put my friends in horror stories. Sorry Mary for your sacrifice to the werewolves. Oh and the burning at the stake thing, too. Adventures through the mystic lands of faery with my friends in tow. Through caverns under rivers and caves burrowing into mountains. It was all fun. All the best escapes of my life. Little did I know more were to come. I’d stopped writing for years after I lost all my stories in a fire. Luckily, my children and I were safe, but I didn’t want to put so much effort into my writing again. (The kernels of Cold Darkness popped from a horror comedy story my thirteen year old son and I were writing together. I’m sorry nothing came of it, but then I turned it into an adult tale with the dark themes I enjoy.) I had a lot of fun with Angus and wished we had kept it up, but it was fun and a great memory.
When I was a child, I’d sleep walk, so my mother made me sleep with her. She was afraid I’d fall down the stairs and break my neck. It started a tradition of laying in bed making up stories together. When I was in my early teens she would write ‘screenplays’ for our favorite TV shows. She would make word search puzzle books for us and I’d love reading the typewritten documents. My favorite moments was with my mom taking turns telling those stories.
Whether I sell one damn copy, or none, the best part of all this is my mother read my story and loved it. Sex and all.
That is the best part of launch day.
Thanks Mom.
Win a copy of Cold Darkness.
In honor of the release of Cold Darkness I’d like to offer up a free copy. Just stop by my blog today to answer this simple question:
If you woke up to find yourself in the body of the opposite gender, what would be the first thing you would do?
The answer I like the best wins a copy of Cold Darkness.
Leave your answer in the comments section below by June 16th, 2014. Be sure to check the box for email notification of reply. Once I’ve replied to your comment, send me an email:
kilarsinclair@gmail.com to receive your free copy.
Kay Dee Royal Hosts Michele M. Rakes for the Cold Darkness Release
I’m at Kay Dee’s place. Hop over and check out her blog! Cold Darkness releases June 13th.
Spencer Dryden talks about Bliss
From the man who leaves no footprints on newly fallen snow, Spencer Dryden. He talks about Bliss, his new book out with Breathless Press.
Click on the image for the link to Spencer’s interview.
Meg Amor, The Lady of Love
Meg Amor is her real name. Great for a gal who writes wonderful romances, yes? Not just typical romances, but troikas. Throw in some sexy black men, a redheaded New Zealander, and you’ve got yourself a great time. Not only in this life, but in the previous, and the next.
My beautiful, redheaded friend has made her first splash with Dark War, a short story from MuseItHot Publishing that introduces these wonderful characters from her world.
When I first met Meg, we were ogling men in L.A. Well, not exactly. She began reading my novel Trainwreck, which is set in L.A. Unfortunately, our meeting came just weeks after I’d been in California not far from where my friend resides, so having not met in person, doesn’t mean we can’t get into trouble together.
Her characters are so heart wrenchingly real. Charlie is by far my favorite. I can’t help myself. I like them troubled and brooding with amazing eyes. Uh…hem…anyway, her settings and intricacies of plot are compelling.
Back Cover
Charlie Laralde aches with pent-up sexual tension and love for his two best friends, Henry and Izzy. His desire for them is torn to shreds by a vicious woman convincing him, he’s unlovable trash. Like the inner Dark War struggle he’s fought his whole life, he gives in to the darkness. Frustrated and hell-bent on destruction, he disappears with an unsavory crowd on a depraved death wish booty-call.
Will Henry and Izzy rescue him in time? Can they convince Charlie of their deep passionate love and need for him?
Excerpt
I’ve known Charlie since the day he was born. He’s ten years younger, a Creole from a good Louisiana family like I am. Tall, charismatic, charming, oozes sex like the call of a siren going out into the night. He has a slight look of Smokey Robinson in his eyes, raw sexuality, and the women flock to him. They always have. Charlie’s sexy, light-skinned, what would have been called pardo in the old days, not like my darker skin. He keeps his hair slightly long and swept back. He still colors it, just vain enough to not want to age yet.
I’ve long let my short afro progress to salt and pepper. Izzy likes it. She thinks I look and sound a little like that popular, distinguished black actor, which I take as a compliment. He’s older than me and apparently comes under the “sex on a stick,” category. She says I do, too. I’m not sure what she sees, I’m sixty-eight to her thirty-eight years, but she loves me on a deep, soul level. I remind myself everyday how lucky I am.
“We have to find him,” Izzy’s plugged in energetically and this makes me more nervous.
After a lot of calls back and forth to Danny, I’m still none the wiser as to where Charlie went. Hell, I’m worried. It’s been an hour. We’ve achieved precisely nothing.
Izzy comes back from the office, her face taut with stress. “I know where he is.” She loves him as much as I do.
“Where?” I frown.
She shows me on the map. Oh thank God. Okay, I know where he is now. “How did you get this information?”
She grimaces. “I managed to get the stupid car-tracking software to activate.”
“Thank God, baby. I was going mad.”
“Me too.”
In reality he’s not far. It’s an old property of his family’s, kind of Bayou, out on the river. An old plantation house, falling down now, the Spanish moss choking everything it touches.
“Let’s go,” says Izzy, grabbing her purse and sliding her feet into a pair of flip-flops.
I want to leave her here but know she won’t let me go by myself. Her long, red curls and bright, tropical sundresses make her exotic and sexy, all that beauty dragged into something squalid.
“Not even,” she says.
“Iz, babe, let me deal with Charlie.”
“No, for fuck’s sake, I’m not letting you go there by yourself. Crikey, you don’t really think that’s going to happen, do you? He’s my friend too. We need to sort this out. He’s probably trolleyed out of his brain. You’re not going to deal with him by yourself.”
“Iz,” I say seriously.
“We’re bloody going. Charlie needs us.”
“Yes, he does, but I have a bad feeling about this. There’s probably going to be some sleazy people there. And who knows what else will be going on.”
“Fuck you, Charlie,” she hisses.
I don’t want her to see him like that. I know when he wakes up, sober and sick, he’ll be ashamed. I’ve been here with him. She hasn’t. Admittedly, even for me, a long time ago.
“We’ll take my truck.”
She nods, already helping me grab things we’ll need. Oh God, Charlie. Please be okay. I toss the big first-aid kit in the car, grab water and blankets. I run upstairs to his bathroom and pack shampoo, soap, toiletries, and towels. I throw spare clothes into a bag. Izzy’s eyes silently ask me why. She grimaces and shuts her eyes.
It’s hot, sultry, and steamy. A storm’s brewing out in the bay, picking up the wind. The big thunderheads rolling in earlier have been slow reaching us.
We’re sweating from fear as much as the velvety warmth. A sheen of sweat coats our skin. It’s the height of summer. The heat hasn’t dropped any at night. This heat flash has been brewing for a few days, increasing tensions each day. I’m not surprised something crazy is happening.
We hop into the truck. She grabs my hand. I pull her into me, wrapping my whole body around hers, breathing in her sweet plumeria scent. I wish I could go back inside, shut the door, take her to bed, and make love to her slowly. Deep heat, sensuous lingering arousal, until we’re both going mad with desire. The screaming need for each other has never diminished or abated.
It can’t be easy for Charlie at times, living with us. He wants what we have, I know that. I thought this was taking a different direction but unless I’m mistaken, something’s jumped the rails somewhere.
“I feel bad, I should have caught this sooner,” I say.
“I didn’t pick up on it either, babe. Maybe something happened at The Club and he got triggered.”
She’s as worried as I am.
“I love you, babe, more than life itself.”
“I know, baby. Back at you, always.” She kisses me slowly, her soft lips opening up, letting me slide my tongue into her mouth, all the heat in her eyes, despite the worry. Beautiful girl. How did I get this lucky?
I don’t even have to plug in the address. I know where he is.
My Wingman, Spencer Dryden
When I first met Spencer Dryden he was on a journey through his sexual, erotic awakening, meeting visionary women who introduced him to many tantric experiences. As a padawan learner, he soaked up all his teachers had to offer, devouring each climatic technique with enthusiasm.
With pussy on his mind, he set out on a quest of sexual discovery, a tour of maiden proportions through the sexual world. Often, he’d get lucky and wind up under the tutelage of some sage woman who would guide him on his journey.
Through ancient crypts, he discovered terrible beings bent on the destruction of man, and he time travelled through the universe to save sex for all heterosexual beings. I don’t hold it against him for giving me three large breasts in one of his adventures.
“You were a giant three breasted warrior that laid waste to many evil doers.”
-Spencer Dryden
Granted, he reads my work through his fingers with all the lights on and can of pepper spray in his hands, but he read all of Trainwreck like a trooper, despite all the gay bits.
Then one day Spencer surprised me with a new story to read. Something new, he’d never attempted before, and I thought it showed a side of him he tries to hide, more often than not.
I’m speaking of Bliss. Not a tantric love-in set across the plains of America, or an interstellar battle for the key to making women horny (spoiler alert…it’s a Gunstinka ray gun). Bliss is about a woman coming to terms with her sexual entity as a busy wife. A bread-winner up against the corporate stodginess of male America. In her search to connect with her husband, she discovers some disturbing information, and she must decide how to handle the nefarious plot she uncovers.
The depth of this story about a woman coming to terms with her past sexual abuse, her desire to become a sexual being for her husband, a better mother for her children, and a woman of standards in corporate America touches the soft, gooey part of me still mired in estrogen. That says a lot. I’ve read this story and was compelled to tell my wingman, Spencer, what a great job he did with this wonderful story. It has dark moments, something he’d been afraid to touch, but he’s expanded himself as a writer. I’m glad his persistence paid off.
Bliss by Spencer Dryden has great message. One I think everyone should read. If you would like a copy or to contact Spencer, I’ll post is particulars below. To Spencer, thanks for being my wingman, even through all my gay shit.
Mikey
Bliss by Spencer Dryden
google+: google.com/+SpencerDryden
Bliss Buy link:
http://www.amazon.com/Bliss-Spencer-Dryden-ebook/dp/B00JS2NCWY/ref=pd_rhf_ee_p_dnr_1
Twitter: @SpencerDryden
Visit Spencer’s Fantasy Island
Quick Trips to Adult Fantasy: Leave Your Baggage Behind
http://www.fictionbyspencer.com/
MuseItUp Publishings youtube spot for Cold Darkness
I was surprised and delighted to see this roll through Twitter today. So excited.
Baton Blog Hop: Shining a Light in the Dark
Baton Blog Hop: Shining a Light in the Dark
The writing process of M/M Romance author.
Thanks to my good friend Huck Pilgrim for inviting me to be a part of the Baton Blog Hop. Huck is one of my favorite erotica writers. The stories of the small town of Carnal remind me of a trip to the erotic version of the Outer Limits. My own stories tend to be on the darker side. We do have cookies you know, although after sex I prefer a sandwich.
Thanks again, Huck. Please get to know Huck by visiting his website listed below, preceded of course by a short, but sweet biography.
Huck Pilgrim is the pseudonym of a minor author, who craves readers, and doesn’t mind working hard on his books. He is a father and a husband, enjoys his family, writing, and watching movies. His work appears in BEST GAY EROTICA 2014 and is forthcoming in HOMEBOYS: URBAN GAY EROTICA from Cleis Press.
Visit Pilgrim Press online: http://huckpilgrim.wordpress.com
These four questions have been posed to me and like the writer I am…I’ve probably gone off far too long.
1) What am I working on?
Currently I’m preparing for the release of my short story, Cold Darkness available for preorder here: http://www.museithotpublishing.com/index.php/coming-soon/cold-darkness-detail with a release date of June 13, 2014. Okay, shameless plug out of the way. Right now, I’m dealing with the edits for another short story, Ephemeral Darkness. It’s coming out this winter. Both stories are a part of the Wild Darkness Call from MuseItHot Publishing. Also, I’m editing a novel, Saving Kane for Loose Id, due out hopefully this fall. My next novel is Fourth and Long. It’s in the first draft stage. Probably four more chapters to go and I’ll have finished the first draft. Trainwreck is another novel I’m preparing for submission and its sequel Surviving Adam is nearly complete. I’m utilizing my personal blog as a showcase for some short flasher style works. Often my stories stem from these flashers. It’s a great way to work through scenes, story arcs, and characterization as well as minimalism. Something I obviously have difficulty getting a handle on, judging from how long I suspect this particular post will wind up being…sorry in advance.
2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?
My stories are character driven. Readers want to connect with the characters. I like to populate my world with folks who sound real. Even my secondary characters have been given a rounded background in my notes, so they appear on the page as if we all know them. They’re backstory isn’t a part of the story, but because I know their history, I know them. It makes it easier to recognize their behavior as being true. Also in using them for plot and conflict I can decide which secondary character will work best in their limited roles.
Els in Fourth and Long is one of those characters. He’s the older man in the defensive lines secondary who acts as mentor, barometer, and even devils’ advocate for the main character of Irus Beaumont. Haines is another wide receiver who is the younger player Jackson McCoy sort of mentors and Haines brings Jackson out of his protective shell. Haines seems to have a problem with Jackson when he comes out, but it gets worked out when Jackson realizes it’s not really about homophobia, but the kid’s lack of confidence.
Miss Beulah Beaumont is a supporting character in Saving Kane and makes a return in Fourth and Long as Irus Beaumont’s auntie. Everyone loves Miss Beulah, who used to be linebacker, Bert Beaumont. As Miss Beulah puts it: she went through the change. Small things give her depth, how other characters react to her and in Fourth and Long, we learn a lot about her when Irus is upset she was passed up for the hall of fame, again. She took it with dignity and was just happy to be considered. “Oh honey-child, if I made what other people think of me a priority, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.”
The main characters have to be loveable somehow and I have the ability to make my dark heroes burrow into the hearts of my readers. Often I put them in difficult situations or bring them back to their personal darkness before handing them the flashlight they need to scurry from the dark. Some of my characters are barely dragging themselves up from the grit. They fight and crawl from the gutter. There are no billionaires. No actors or actresses. No rock stars, yet. There is an idea kicking around my head. My characters are regular people put in dark places. Most of my writing deals with adults who are surviving the long-term physical and psychological effects of child abuse.
Vincent Sweetwater sleeps around trying to feed something lost inside him, urges he can’t explain, but he would give it all up for his wife to love him again. Ripped apart by the death of their daughter, Vince and his wife, fellow cop Mica Sweetwater live together as roommates instead of lovers. Each secretly dreaming they could reconcile. It’s a technique I learned from one of my favorite love stories, The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy (Emma).
To have the lover’s together, but so far apart creates angst. A little angst never hurt a story. To add to Vince’s struggle against his over-sexualized nature, he’s having to deal with his attraction/love for another man. Women readers find Vince hard to resist, and sometimes, so do the women in Trainwreck. Yet he loses control, cheats on his wife, and breaks the rules at work. The product of child abuse and the foster care system. Vince is in constant battle with his nature. While his wife dreams of taking control. She has dreams of dominating him. Little does she know, that’s precisely what he wants, but he’s in the middle of a homicide that is tearing him apart.
Cold Darkness has two love interests inhabiting the same body for a time. The timeframe is eighteen years after their initial love affair. Eighteen years of dealing with his crazy, vampire/demon girlfriend in his head, after his betrayal of her in order to save the world. I like to think their situation is unique.
In Ephemeral Darkness, a young chef falls in love with a ghost. He just needs to survive the abusive relationship he finds himself in first. It’s the story of love crossing centuries. As a lover of the movie High Spirits, this short story is one of my favorites, although there is no character who could be portrayed my Peter O’Toole. Dead, or Alive.
Saving Kane is about a young gay bartender who dreams of being a dancer, brutally assaulted by a man intent on killing him. Kane’s life is saved by a former firefighter turned paramedic, Garrett. Kane tries to rebuild his life, but realizes he’s being stalked by his attacker.
Fourth and Long is a story about two football players, Jackson McCoy a wide receiver and Irus Beaumont a cornerback, dealing with the game and their positions as closeted players. They start out as enemies, used to being rivals on the field. Now they’re on the same team, dealing with sexual tension and rivalry. The wide receiver has things from his past that could crush him and when he’s outed things become complicated.
Trainwreck has an unconventional narcotics detective thrust into a murder investigation against his will. During the course of the investigation, his marriage in limbo, and his professional relations tenuous, Vincent Sweetwater uncovers things about his childhood he spent a lifetime forgetting. It brings him back to a man he used to see in the kink community. With so much at stake in his marriage, Vince fights his questionable sexuality while trying to find a killer he believes is a part of the community he used to secretly be a member.
Surviving Adam is the story of John Sweetwater, Vince’s father. It’s the story of a man coming out of twenty-six years in prison to redeem himself as a father and a gay man. His love interest is David Schwartz, the old dog on Vince’s narcotics squad who is driven crazy by Vince’s antics. He’s going through a divorce and dealing with a vengeful ex-wife. The sub-plot is a cross-over from Trainwreck. A case of sexual assaults in gay bars and circuit clubs. Now, I know fifty is the new forty, but Vince likes to flip Dave a lot of shit, and old dog/old man often comes from his mouth.
3) Why do I write what I do?
Much of what is in my stories (even the paranormal ones) are themes I’ve dealt with in my own life. There is much of myself in the main character of Trainwreck. Kane’s a dancer, something I wanted to be when I was young. Garrett is a paramedic, something I consider doing when I tire of the four walls of the operating room as a surgical tech. Truth be told, I feel more like a man than a woman, which has been frustrating me my whole life. To be able to change my life and play football at the level of Jackson and Irus would be a dream come true. For me, the romance, sexuality, and obstacles in a male/male romance are more interesting than traditional romances. I’m often attracted to men, but not as a woman, if you get my meaning.
My stories are populated by unique characters struggling through the character arcs I’ve designed for them, moving toward the possibilities of a happy ending, or as happy as an ending they could muster. I’m definitely an HEA or HFN. I only saddle my characters with so much darkness and pain. Vincent Sweetwater is my most tortured character, in that he is the only one still suicidal.
4) How does my writing process work?
Well, for Trainwreck, I wrote it in six months, but spent a lot more time editing. Saving Kane I wrote in ten weeks, a chapter a week, consistently every Friday I knocked out a chapter. Fourth and Long is the same way, but I sort of jumped ahead by doing a few chapters in one week. I don’t write every day, but I try to spend one day a week writing. I’m most productive early in the morning before dawn breaks. A dedicated space free from distracts helps me the best. A radio, TV, people talking or wanting my time kills my writing and a day that would have been productive is no longer a possibility even if I can get away. Sometimes, finding the time to write while working full-time, coming home fixing dinner, feeding my three crazy cats and ferret, and trying to give my husband attention can be a challenge. It’s not insurmountable. Organize. Make commitments to yourself to write and keep them.
So, without a dedicated time to write, what do I do? I have a small notebook and I fill it with everything I think about during the day. If I think of something that goes with what I wrote a few pages back, then I use a sticky note to add to the idea and slap it onto the page. It’s kept handy so when I have time between surgeries to write, I’ll do it in the notebook. No sense in trying to write something in the two minutes it takes for the OR to get cleaned up and I have to go back in to set up for the next surgery.
That little notebook is beside me when I sit down to write. I peruse it and work through what I want to do, what I need to do, and I always ask myself several questions: what do I need this scene to do? What should this chapter accomplish? Is it keeping the story moving toward climax? A climax I’ve already visualized. It may change, but I at least the end in sight. So, I have somewhere for my characters to travel always.
Speaking of travel, this Baton Blog has to be passed to some of my favorite folks. Please take the time to check out their details below and visit them next week when they tell us all about themselves and their writing. All three are excellent writers and I find them all engaging for different reasons. First is Spencer Dryden, my wing-man, we won’t discuss his hetero/homo affair with Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, or the incredible fall out he had with that whore Johnny Walker in all his incarnations. Second is Meg Amor, my wing-woman who has the perfect name for romance and is an outstanding NZer. Third is Lucee Lovett a vivacious soul you’ll love to love with all the British flair.
Enough, I’ll let them tell you all about themselves.
Spencer Dryden:
Some men are born great, others strive for greatness; still others have greatness thrust upon them. Spencer Dryden is none of these men. In fact, he is so unimpressive, he leaves no footprints on newly fallen snow. He was trained in fiction writing on the job with the many sales reports he produced for his managers, winning the coveted “keep your job contest” three years running. His expense reports are still considered masterpieces of forgery by the bankruptcy trustee of his former employer. He lives an unremarkable life in a suburb of a northern city. His friends and family would drop dead in horror if they knew of his secret life as a writer of erotica. He hates the family cat but still loves to pet his wife.
Website: http://www.fictionbyspencer.com/
Google+ google.com/+SpencerDryden
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomspencer_dryden
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008150288001&sk=info&viewas=100000686899395
Visit Spencer’s Fantasy Island
Quick Trips to Adult Fantasy: Leave Your Baggage Behind http://www.fictionbyspencer.com/
Meg Amor:
Meg Amor ~ is the author of the steamy sultry romance erotica story ~ Dark War, published by Muse it Up Publishing. Meg spent a lifetime as a therapist being fascinated, and collecting unusual love stories. She loves to write romantic erotica, with committed poly relationships, and other unusual romance mixes. Meg hand-wrote and ‘published’ her first book when she was eleven years old, about her parents divorce. Constantly told as a child, she had a vivid and active imagination—the dawn of the computer era meant she could now take dictation at speed from the interesting characters galloping around her head.
She grew up in New Zealand, and lives in California with her American fur child, Leo Ray Jr. the cat. They’re headed home soon to the sultry soul city of New Orleans, where all her books are set!
The Troika Love Series trilogy, coming this year:
~ Henry and Isolde
~ The Chi Circle
~ The Flame Still Burns
http://www.troikaromance.com/
http://www.troikaromance.blogspot.com/
twitter.com@amor_meg
Lucee Lovett:
Hi there! I’m Lucee Lovett, wife and mother by day, romance erotica author and publisher by night. I live in London, with terrific kids, husband and a great dog named Blue.
I’m started publishing my own e-book series in January 2013. I’m as pleased as punch with my achievements. I write across quite a few genres, but my favorite and main works are in erotica and the erotic subgenres.
I love it because it allows me to remove the mask on my own desires and fantasies and share them contextually with others, in the guise as fiction.
Author and publisher of:
The Retreat and What’s in the Box ~ (13 Doors Series)
Immortal Heart ~ a paranormal erotica romance novel
Coming soon:
Beyond Imagination ~ (13 Doors Series)
Sweet Apparition ~ Urban Fantasy Collection.
A Question of Size ~ a novella.
http://www.luceelovett.com
http://www.twitter.com@LuceeLovett
http://www.facebook.com/Lucee.lovett
http://13doorsseries.com/
https://plus.google.com/u/0/100576668635547494632/posts
http://luceelovett.tumblr.com/
Just another to reminder to visit our friends next week at their own websites.
Harley For Sale
Harley for Sale
By Michele Micheal Rakes
“Test ride?” She swung a long, leather-clad leg over my hog.
“It’s not prudent?”
“Prudent? You fucking serious, man?”
“As a heart-attack.”
“Fine, hop on.”
“Not riding bitch.”
“Suit yourself.”
Hard spikes scraped the concrete drive. She grabbed my ape-hangers and manhandled my bike upright, kicking the stand up to snug beneath the belly of my beast. She hit the start button igniting the machine into rumbling life. My dick swelled. The bitch was so fucking stacked.
“Wait!”
I hopped on the back of my bike with this stilettooed, hell-bent for leather bitch in control sporting a goddamn hard-on. Horny for this wild one.
What would my wife say?
She dropped the hammer, cycling through the gears, hurtling down our twisty road. Excitement tingled in my veins. Her black corset was silky. Firm breasts spilled over the top. She guided my hand to her crotch.
“You’re a dude!”
“I’ve got great tits, man.”
“And a big fucking cock! Pull over!”
Instead, she rubbed my dick through my jeans. I was still painfully erect.
I grabbed her cock. Her beautiful smile reflected in the mirror. Little Miss Lola purred.
Not like I was riding my wife anymore.
Cold Darkness
By Michele Micheal Rakes
Back Cover
Girlfriends. Wives. Lovers.
At some point they all nag, but only Kilar, a vampire demon, can nag her way into a possession, taking over Lance’s body for a night of sexual exploration.
Lance, Kilar’s blood slave, cannot escape and giving into her whims only leads to more devastation. Trapped in a psychic link, Lance grows weary and weak with her constant demand for freedom.
Kilar’s body remains hidden by the vampire tribunal due to a loathsome pact Lance made with them in order to contain his destructive girlfriend and prevent Armageddon.
So, what’s a guy to do? Kill the nag? The thought has crossed his mind…but first he has to find her.
Here’s my author link:
Click on the Read More to go to the buy page.
Sensitivity Training
Sensitivity Training
by Michele Micheal Rakes
Sergeant Vincent Sweetwater filed into the tactical room for their first module of sensitivity training.
“That collar isn’t standard police issue!” Lt. Hanson paced.
“It’s lovely next to his long blond hair.”
“Shut up, Sarafino. When I need your opinion I’ll give it to you.”
“Sir, this tactical collar is issued to the K-9 units. These dogs are considered officers of the law. This is sensitivity training.” Sweetwater fingered the black leather.
“You know he has the leash to go with it,” Sarafino added.
“Shut up you clowns.”
“Sir, what are the policies concerning alternative sexualities?”
“Jesus, Sweetwater, alternative what?”
“Gay, transgender, lesbian, bisexuality.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’ve got to keep my mouth shut about my bisexuality. How sensitive is our workplace when I’m forced into a closet?”
“You know the policy. Don’t tell.”
“It’s a bitter pill being ‘taught’ sensitivity by an organization who suppresses my sexual identity. As if it has anything to do with how I perform my job.”
“We’re not debating, Sweetwater.”
“How about kinks? Whips, chains, bondage. Corporal punishment. Dominance and submission.”
“Just arrest them, Sweets, don’t kiss them.”
“What if their cute?”
“You’re trying to kill me?”
“Is that an option?”
Needs
Needs
by Michele Micheal Rakes
“I’m not gay.”
“That is fine, Vincent. Have you informed your dick?”
“You’re manipulating me,” said Vince. His wrists chafed beneath the rough rope, but he found he liked it.
“Don’t touch it,” begged Vince.
“I will touch what I want. Grayson, bring the plug and lube.”
“Yes, Master Greg.”
“No, Master, please don’t,” whispered Vince, uncertain of his protest.
“The lube and plug, Master. May I soothe the slave, Sir? Ease his tension?”
“The tension is what he seeks, but suit yourself.”
Master lubed the toy. He attempted to slip it inside Vince’s sphincter. The rigidity in the slave’s body hindered further pursuit.
Grayson grazed his fingers over the slave’s backside. “Relax, boy. Trust me, it feels good. Don’t you want it?”
“I do.”
“Then why do you fight it?”
Master pressed his hot, sweaty skin to Vince’s backside. “Speak to me, slave.”
“I’m not gay.”
“Then why do you serve a gay master?”
Silence.
“Answer me, boy.”
“I need to be dominated.”
“A Mistress?” Master asked .
“No, I need a man.”
“Why?”
“Because I want it rough,” Vince snarled.
“In the ass?” Master asked. The tip of the plug pressed into Vincent’s rectum.
“It’s what I need.” Vincent sighed.
Succubus
Succubus
by Michele Micheal Rakes
The lovely creature sucking my cock moaned through me, a purring kitten vibrating the length of my shaft. God. Her moist hollow enveloping me, devouring my cock, was making me insane.
I toyed with the red waves of hair spilling over my hand, cupping the back of her head, urging her to take me deeper. The sight of my slick dick slipping in and out of her dark, red lips, was enamoring. The graze of her teeth. Sharp, pointed little daggers dragging along my cock.
With a flick of her tongue, a tendril of my juices hung between us, her curling tip finding my slit, violating, teasing as squeezing fingers clutched my balls. I wasn’t going to last. Not with her wet heat suffocating my cock, sucking the life from my greedy prick.
Deep in her throat, her contracting muscle choking my dick, I came, shuddering into her body. Without fail, swallowing my essence. Unable to stop, convulsing with need, my fluid spilling as a steady river. Ever-swallowing, feeding from me.
My lungs drying, burning as my prick kept leaking into the dark, fiery recesses of her magnificent throat. She may well be the death of me. My sweet succubus.
Hello, my name is Mikey…
And I have a blogging problem. How cliché, right? It is a problem starting out with this white screen (black by the time you, dear readers, see it) begging me to fill it, but with what? What to talk about? Most of my thinking is taken up with writing. Not necessarily the technical aspects, I’m sorry to say, but the story-telling aspects. There are a lot of stories circling inside my head. Some of them I’ve already written. Characters living in my mind and on my computer. Interesting people who don’t exist anywhere else, yet.
I suppose I may have inadvertently found something to write about: how I’m going to bring these folks to the outside world. My experiences with writing and publishing are limited. I’ve read a great article today by Josh Lanyon that was posted here:
I found it encouraging. In this article he states some fine things about publishers on a whole. Gives some sound advice, but also leaves me with a disturbing feeling concerning how deep the water might really be…perhaps over my head? I’m questioning my ability to swim. Yet, I can learn to swim. I can dive in head first and follow the bubbles to the surface. I’ve learned so much since I wrote my first novel in 2010. It took me six months to write and longer to edit. Folks have read it and fell in love the characters just as I have, but I’m aware of the manuscripts drawbacks. I’ve yet to shop anywhere, focusing on other stories I’ve completed. To my surprise, a short story that was rejected by one was picked up by another publisher and will be my first true writing credit. ERWA (Erotic Readers and Writers Association) has almost all the credit for helping improve my writing abilities so I can continue to tell the stories I like and perhaps share them with readers.
I’m not an expert on writing. I’ve yet to be an actual published author (coming June 2014), but I think within these virtual pages I will explore the ways I develop my characters. My stories are so character driven. I prefer the dark hero’s and I like dragging them through their own psychological fires, breaking them down until there’s nearly nothing left before I allow them to look into the light. I’m a HEA kind of girl, but I like to make them fight for their love. If it was easy, everyone would fall in love and have great sex.
As a reader, I like those stories, sometimes if I’m too invested in a series (which are my favorite to read) I’ll drop the book, not go back for a while. I always go back. I’ll always keep reading because of the characters. Some favorite authors of mine in the m/m genre are Abigail Roux and Josh Lanyon for their series. I’ve read their other works, but have fallen in love with the idea of a series because of these two authors. The Cut and Run series by Abigail Roux was my first, as it were, and Josh Lanyon’s Fair Game was the first book of his I read. I liked it because it was set in my backyard. Seattle WA. Well, I’m closer to the mountain, but eh? However, his Adrian English series is a favorite of mine. It’s one that I put down and pick back up so I can prolong the pleasure: delayed gratification.
Author not in my genre that I like is David Stone. Lord, if there is any man I quote often enough, it’s Micah Dalton. Is it wrong for me to imagine Micah Dalton in a male/male espionage story? Probably, but I love marigolds. Don’t get the reference? Read the book, The Echelon Vendetta by David Stone. Micah Dalton’s better than Bond. He’s a little more unstable, but at least you know he always saves at least one bullet.
Good lord, at one point I don’t know what to right and now I can’t shut up.
Well, this post is more of a ‘here I am’ than anything else so babbling can’t hurt, right? My next post will be more structured. I’ll talk about taking a story from a kernel of thought throwing it into the oil from which it pops up into a full-fledged idea with characters and everything. I’ll use my first novel as an example.
Next post in the Nest: The Anatomy of a Trainwreck
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