tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92005359357113848552024-03-13T11:26:58.018-07:00DH Starr's SpotDH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-11134338390670678802014-08-07T11:16:00.000-07:002014-08-07T11:16:25.860-07:00Wrestling Within - Morning Wake up Sex<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<![endif]--><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Hey everyone: </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Started the next chapter of the third Wrestling Within book and Derek and Scott decided wake-up sex was in order. Enjoy! </span> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">The
next morning Derek and Scott had a class together. Music was one of Derek’s
passions and Scott had electives to complete, so he decided to learn a bit
about Derek’s talent. Maybe he’d even be able to give a shot at mixing himself
if he learned enough.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Stretching
his arms above his head, Scott savored the way his muscles strained in protest
before shaking the remnants of sleep. His cock was straining in his boxers. The
fact he had a clear view of Derek’s twin only served to fuel his horniness. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Slipping
his hand along Derek’s abdomen, he wriggled his fingers under the waistband of
snug briefs, deftly wrapping his slender fingers around Derek’s heated mast.
Derek groaned and arched his hips into Scott’s hand, then cleared his throat.
“Morning.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">“More
like morning glory.” He felt a smile slip across his face as devilish thoughts
filtered into his head. Leaning into Derek’s neck, he brushed air-light kisses
on the soft skin, trailing a path down to his collarbone, down his chest and
stomach, until his cheek nestled against Derek’s naval. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">He
inhaled deeply, savoring the rustic scent of sweat and arousal, then worked the
barrier of fabric down Derek’s legs until they bunched at the foot of their
bed. There was no instinct to draw his longing out, nor Derek’s</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">In
one smooth motion, he swallowed Derek’s cock all the way to the base,
delighting in the mixture of salt and semen stimulating his taste buds. He
traveled up and down Derek’s length, each trip causing the vein at the back of
Derek’s shaft to thicken and pulse.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">When
the first droplet of precome entered Scott’s mouth, his reserves burst.
Releasing his prize, he slid back up Derek’s body and captured him in a heated
kiss.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Derek
tried to withdraw. “Scott. Morning breath. Yuck.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">“Does
my breath stink? Shit.” He hadn’t considered that Derek would complain after waking
to a blow job.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">“No.
My breath. I feel like a skunk crawled up another skunks ass and farted in
there.” He smiled, but covered his mouth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">More
determined than ever, Scott crawled on top of Derek, straddling his waist. “Do
you think I give a shit about that?” He leaned down and kissed Derek once
again, reaching behind him so he could fondle the hardened length of flesh
brushing against his ass.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">More
precome adorned the crown and he used the slickness to coat Derek’s dick, then
rubbed it against his own hole. Without speaking, he shifted his weight and
sank onto Derek until the head popped through his tight ring of muscle. The
burn only lasted a second, followed by blissful electricity flowing through
him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Derek
gasped, but made no move to stop him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Encouraged,
Scott lowered his weight, stopping every inch or so to adjust to the stretch,
then continuing his journey. When he finally seated himself against Derek’s
pelvis bone, he paused, luxuriating in the sense of fullness and connection.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Derek’s
eyes were closed and his lips pulled into a dream-like smile. Normally, Scott
insisted they maintain eye contact during sex, but this morning wasn’t about
tenderness. He wanted to feel Derek inside him, rough and manly, until he blew
his load all over that beautifully toned chest. Or maybe he’d straddle Derek’s
neck and come all over his face. He wouldn’t know until the moment was upon
him, but the possibilities were endless.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Derek
began to buck up in tandem with Scott’s rocking, rutting against his sweet spot
with each stroke. It didn’t take long for Derek’s breath to become ragged and
then his eyes to squint with that ecstatic sense of euphoria which always
preceded a massive orgasm.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">“Scott.
Not gonna be able to―” He couldn’t even finish his sentence as his cock
expanded even more inside of Scott, jutting inside him with each pulse of his
release. Gargled sounds emitted from somewhere deep inside Derek’s chest as he
fought to contain the shout itching to fill the room. Sweat formed on his chest
and pooled in the crevice between his pectoral muscles, the rest of his skin
shining with moisture.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Heat
filled Scott from the inside out, and each movement of Derek’s body sent his
head reeling with pleasure until his own limits were reached.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Raising
himself, he felt the fullness of semen and come filling his ass. He slid up
Derek’s body and straddled his neck, not recalling having decided to do so, and
gripped his own cock in his right hand, stroking it feverishly as his orgasm
built up inside.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Derek
tilted his head up and opened his mouth, a clear invitation for what he wanted
Scott to do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">All
too willing to oblige, Scott angled his cock so the head pointed directly
towards Derek’s awaiting lips just as the first wave of his orgasm his. The
first gush of come coated Derek’s lips, the bulk splashing against his cheek.
Derek gripped Scott’s ass and pulled him closer, wrapping his lips around Scott’s
cock and swirled his tongue around the over-sensitized skin just under the
crown.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">The
heat brought on a new rush of need and Scott’s body bucked a few more times,
unleashing more of his fluid into Derek’s mouth. Once the waves subsided, he
slid down Derek’s body and licked the stray ropes of white liquid from Derek’s
cheek, then sealed their mouths together in a sloppy kiss.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Derek
slid one hand behind Scott’s neck, holding him in place, as he ran his tongue
in circles inside Scott’s mouth. They kissed for what felt like several
minutes, the pungent flavor of their essence fueling another hard-on from both
of them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">With
the sense of urgency sated, Scott, slid into a more comfortable position, his
head resting on Derek’s chest. “Well, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>
was a great way to wake up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Derek
laughed weakly. “Don’t I know it? Now if I can get my legs to move, we can
shower and then grab some breakfast and head to class.”</span></div>
DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-76107375318831749712014-08-05T12:00:00.003-07:002014-08-05T12:02:33.482-07:00Meant For Him - - coming soon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUh1bXaiMav9wAxrkW65xe5AcYrle3M4zU0uPSwWCvGF2k0Y5RkAm7XhUrV7EKbx3xqZcdFqgC2FxYq17PGgH1o6kP2bcwAQCAFrT3db_WColeRIsyv8_XpG74Ra0TcWcyPWVg__AVgpuw/s1600/MeantforEachOther200_3002__97470.1400192471.1280.1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUh1bXaiMav9wAxrkW65xe5AcYrle3M4zU0uPSwWCvGF2k0Y5RkAm7XhUrV7EKbx3xqZcdFqgC2FxYq17PGgH1o6kP2bcwAQCAFrT3db_WColeRIsyv8_XpG74Ra0TcWcyPWVg__AVgpuw/s1600/MeantforEachOther200_3002__97470.1400192471.1280.1280.jpg" /></a></div>
Hey folks.<br />
<br />
After almost a year of nothing, I've finally come out from under my writer's hole in the ground and am plugging away at new stuff. There are two stories coming very soon. The first is called Meant For Him. It follows the first title <u><b>Meant For Each Other</b></u> (<i><b>MFEO</b></i>), not exactly as a sequel, but by focusing on a secondary character from the first book.<br />
<br />
Andrew Jamieson was Jeremy's boyfriend in <i><b>MFEO</b></i>. They'd been together for eight years, but while Andrew had skyrocketed professionally, Jeremy had remained content to continue in his current path of teaching. Andrew's desire to live life ion a manner parallel to his increased wealth, became dissatisfied with Jeremy's stagnation and problems brewed. It was my intent in the first book to keep Andrew a likable character. He and Jeremy weren't right for each other, but Andrew was still a good guy who needed to get his priorities in order.<br />
<br />
In this second book, <i><b>Meant For Him</b></i>, he meets Peter Johnson (yes, both first and last name refer to a certain appendage). Peter is a bartender at an East Village bar and he, like Jeremy, hasn't progressed much since his graduation from college. Unlike Jeremy, Peter had aspirations but was too afraid to follow through. Andrew, afraid he'll do the same thing to Peter he did to Jeremy, tries not to push, and in the process of getting to know Peter discovers something about himself he never knew before...something that helps to explain why he and Jeremy weren't meant to be. <br />
<br />
True to my style, I put my characters through self-doubt and angst before they find their HEA, but I feel like that torment makes the ending so much more worth celebrating.<br />
<br />
The book is currently in revisions and will be available through <a href="http://www.ai-press.net/" target="_blank">Ai Press</a> soon.<br />
<br />
If you haven't read <i><b>Meant For Each Other</b></i>, it was one of my earlier books and despite the cheating in it (which I did catch some flack about) is a story I really enjoyed writing. The book can be purchased at <a href="http://www.ai-press.net/meant-for-each-other/" target="_blank">Ai Press</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Meant-Each-Other-D-H-Starr-ebook/dp/B004BA552I/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407264987&sr=8-1&keywords=meant+for+each+other" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, <a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-meantforeachother-481069-145.html" target="_blank">ARe</a>, <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/meant-for-each-other-dh-starr/1029909375?ean=9781499174793" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-14929832081901554862013-08-30T17:48:00.001-07:002013-08-30T17:48:15.464-07:00Forbidden Cravings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I have read several of Sedonia Guillone's books and even collaborated on one anthology with her. She was the first to publish my work and has coached me as an author and as a friend. Recently, I read her book, part fo the White Tiger series.<br />
<br />
As a spoiler, this book tackles a taboo subject of twincest. I know some people squirm at this subject matter and others have outright angry reactions. Beneath the subject matter, however, is a honest story about two men who struggle with their own insecurities which stand in the way of their love for one another. It's a s simple as that. The fact the two main characters are bothers...twins...does not deter from the sense of longing, struggle, and joy in knowing who you love and finding your way to that person's heart.<br />
<br />
There were many qualities of this book which drew me in and kept me. The use of language and the natural flow of one moment to the next demonstrates the care and love Sedonia puts into her writing. Each scene, emotion, and event is purposeful and elegant, exploring both the inner and outer influences that motivate character behaviors.<br />
<br />
The concept of the White Tiger, a hotel in Tokyo specializing in methods and practices for seeking inner truth and oneness with self, others, and the world, intrigued me. The owner is knowledgeable in the art of meditation and the teachings work their way into the story. Another character, Quan-Chan, is a specialist in the area of massage and bringing true awareness to one's connection with another person. The whole crew working together are a family, not literally, but in every other sense of the best meanings of that word.<br />
<br />
By the end, I longed to figure out who Mod and Tatou would overcome their obstacles and find their way to each other.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Buy At <a href="http://ai-press.net/2013/08/02/now-available-men-of-tokyo-forbidden-cravings/" target="_blank">Ai Press</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Men-Tokyo-Forbidden-Cravings-ebook/dp/B00EAXFAQM/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1377909122&sr=8-4&keywords=forbidden+cravings" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/men-of-tokyo-sedonia-guillone/1116302884?ean=2940148532637" target="_blank">B&N</a>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-24034767981698125422013-03-17T19:38:00.002-07:002013-03-17T19:50:20.818-07:00My submission to MM Romance Group on Goodreads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-4198100754265834492013-03-13T19:18:00.004-07:002013-03-13T19:22:10.447-07:00First Hook Up for Andrew and Peter<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Andrew’s
eyes dipped to Peter’s groin for a split second , but snapped back as if he
were waiting for permission to look. The thought threw Peter over the edge and
in one quick motion he slid his hand behind Andrew’s neck and pulled him in for
a kiss.</span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first touch of Peter’s lips against Andrew’s
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">A clean
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Peter slid
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">As if on
cue, Andrew hummed into Peter’s mouth and leaned forward, arching his back and providing
greater access to his ass. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">It was all
the invitation Peter needed. Curving his hand along one cheek, he allowed his
fingers to slither into Andrew’s crack, and creep closer to his opening. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Andrew
leaned even further forward, breaking the seal of their kiss and panting into
Peter’s ear. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Spurred on
with inflamed desire, Peter shifted his hand just an inch more so his fingers
could caress the sweet spot. At first pass, he could feel the taught pucker of
Andrew’s tight hole. He pressed lightly to determine whether Andrew would
clench or open to him. When neither happened, a surge of pleasure shot straight
to Peter’s cock. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s gonna make me work for
it.</i></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">He ran a
few more circles, then pulled his head back enough to stare into Andrew’s eyes.
The greens of his irises had inflamed to epic proportions, but as hypnotic as
they were, nothing could deter Peter from his ultimate goal. </span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">With eyes
locked in Andrew’s piercing gaze, Peter pushed his finger through the tight
opening. Heat engulfed his finger which was now wrapped in satin fire. Then
Andrew’s hole clenched, enough to halt Peter’s movement, but not enough to push
the finger out. After a few heartbeats, Andrew leaned forward, devouring Peter’s
mouth while pushing back onto the invading digit.</span></div>
DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-71064095187681181502013-02-22T04:32:00.000-08:002013-02-22T04:32:35.078-08:00Perfect For Me - Chapter 2<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2qlRWPdDO8oLVuDl32iakLzw7b3VECfHsUdqeavis70PP4qSPPPEd_DnRDwIlU7cUUz9bb2iUAnkXQHLn4BgJImcgu52iIBwN1kWsoeihFp8rPtvPRyfbTqYe_VJl9u7iMKI7OCO_c50/s1600/PerfectforMe_draft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2qlRWPdDO8oLVuDl32iakLzw7b3VECfHsUdqeavis70PP4qSPPPEd_DnRDwIlU7cUUz9bb2iUAnkXQHLn4BgJImcgu52iIBwN1kWsoeihFp8rPtvPRyfbTqYe_VJl9u7iMKI7OCO_c50/s320/PerfectforMe_draft.jpg" width="203" /></a></div>
</h2>
<h1>
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></h1>
<h1>
<span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 2</span></h1>
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sean hurried down the street, using his umbrella more as a
shield against the horizontal onslaught of rain. With the wind and the sudden
downpour which decided to occur right after he’d found a parking space, there
were more areas of his body getting wet than remaining dry.</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Coming to a skidding halt on the polished linoleum floor of
his middle school lobby in the Bronx where he worked, Sean closed his umbrella,
watching the multiple droplets of water form a small pool on the floor. <i>Better get Chuck to mop that up before the
teachers arrive. Last thing I need is someone to slip and hurt themselves.</i>
The way his luck had been running since his evening with Jerry two nights
earlier, a fall would most likely result in a work-related <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9200535935711384855">injury the outcome of which would be</a><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span><a class="msocomanchor" href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9200535935711384855#_msocom_1" id="_anchor_1" name="_msoanchor_1"></a><span> </span></span></span>a
gaping hole in his teaching staff as someone took a long-term disability leave
to “recover”.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">It wasn’t until he was surrounded by the familiar pictures,
books, and his ever present stack of observation reports, letters, and professional
development plans which required his feedback that Sean felt any sense of normalcy.
His suit coat, placed carefully on a hanger, was nearly soaked through. Small
patches of his shirt were also wet. Luckily he wasn’t wearing white otherwise
his skin would’ve shown through the material. At least <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9200535935711384855">his pants </a><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span><a class="msocomanchor" href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9200535935711384855#_msocom_2" id="_anchor_2" name="_msoanchor_2"></a><span></span></span></span>were
dry, only the bottom part having been exposed to the rain.<span> </span>Without a change of clothing, he’d just have
to deal with it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">As he flipped on his laptop and his email screen appeared,
Sean scrolled through the list of new messages, the tension in his shoulders
slowly seeping away. Whatever else was going on in Sean’s life, he could always
count on work to ground him. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">There was nothing of tremendous importance in his inbox and
Sean wasn’t ready to tackle the paperwork. Standing, he raised his arms above
his head and stretched, allowing even more tension to edge its way out of his
body. Strolling casually to his credenza, he ran his hand along the worn spines
of his favorite educational books. Dewey, Gardner, Burns, Routman, greats in
the educational field. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">But it was the collection of quotes which he finally picked
up, the one with the lettering nearly completely faded, smudged pages, and
hundreds of dog-eared corners. This particular book he’d received as a gift
from his grandfather. He’d brought it with him when he served in Korea. “The
words in this book reminded me why I was<i> </i>there,”
he’d said. Even after his grandfather had passed, the saying helped Sean to
feel like the man was always with him; still his guide and mentor. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">He flipped the book open and it fell to the page with the
quote he read at the beginning of each day. “Worry does not empty tomorrow of
its sorrow; it empties today of its strength.“ - Corrie Ten Boom. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">He’d lived the truth of those words day in and day out, year
after year, as students came and went from his school. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Middle school was a hard enough time in a person’s life, but
to experience adolescence in an environment filled with drugs, abuse, and gangs,
his work took on new levels of importance. He could worry about each student
every day, but then he’d become paralyzed, incapable of making any choices, let
alone the right ones. Something in him, nothing he could point to or name, just
a natural talent genetically imprinted in his core, gave him the ability to
strike the balance with his kids so he could maintain objectivity; could make a
real difference. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sean ran his finger over the quote on the page, worn from
frequent touches, yet the words could vanish completely and he’d know each one.
Maybe his ability to think objectively, to remain rational in the face of
chaos, was more than a professional calling. He’d reacted the same way when
he’d tested positive for HIV.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">He replaced the book, pushing such thoughts from his mind.
There were far too many things requiring his immediate attention. There was no
room to harp on mistakes he’d made in the past even though they continued to
impact his present and future.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">About to tackle the pile on his desk, Sean was saved by the
phone. A double ring. <i>Hmmm. It’s an
external call.</i> He glanced at his watch. It was only six forty-five. Teacher
and student absences were routed to the outside office phones, not his personal
line. A call at this time of the morning equaled something bad.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a heavy sigh, Sean skidded across the room to the
phone. Picking up on the fourth or fifth ring, he made a mental note to ask his
secretary to have his calls forwarded to message after two rings. “Hello. This
is Principal Sullivan.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Good morning, Sean. It’s Margo Brown.” Her voice, normally
bubbly, was clipped and formal. “How are you this morning?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>What the hell is the
Superintendent calling me at this hour?</i> “I’m fine Margo. What can I do for you?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“My office received a call from precinct thirty-seven,
domestic violence case, it involves one of your students.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sean heard Corrie Ten Boom telling him to <i>fill today with strength</i>. He’d received
numerous calls such as the current one, but something about this call felt off.
Bracing himself, he ventured the one question he needed answered. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Who?” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Lamar.” The gravity in her suggested she understood the
internal reaction Sean was currently experiencing. His heart leapt to his
throat and he fell back, gripping the chair just before he fell to the floor.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lamar. His favorite. The diamond in a mountain of rough.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Was he arrested?” In a community where arrests were the
norm, a student spending time behind bars served more as a badge than an
embarrassment.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“No, no. The father was arrested.” A silence filled him as
he waited for the superintendent to continue. <i>So far this sounds pretty standard, so why the early call and the urgency
of the voice?</i> “The boy was hospitalized. He won’t be in today, but you’ll
need a plan for when he returns.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Shit!</i> Counseling
kids off drugs, away from drinking, helping them to resolve conflicts without
violence, even talking to them about the pressures of joining gangs; these were
things he could handle. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Having a kid hospitalized, on the other hand, stole from
Sean’s resilience, chipping at his sense of control from the outside in. The
fact it was Lamar, <span> </span>a soft spoken, smart,
beautiful young man ripped at Sean’s guts and for a moment he thought he might
puke, but the sensation passed after a few deep breaths. The kid was thirteen-going-on-twenty.
He exuded kindness. He had skin the color of coffee and cream, round brown
eyes, <span> </span>and a lanky body which was somehow
sturdy at the same time. Lamar was someone who could go far if given the right
supports along the way. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">And, Sean suspected, Lamar was probably gay. Lamar wasn’t
overly social, having a small group of friends, most of whom were girls. He’d
often take his lunch back to his classroom, helping his teachers organize their
rooms or prepare for their next class. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">There’d been a rumor a few months earlier that he’d kissed a
boy, but rumors weren’t worth attention unless students began to talk and
ridicule. Still, Sean kept an eye on the kid. Made a point of greeting him in
the hallway, checking in on how he was doing in his classes and how things were
going at home.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">To picture this child, the sweet, unassuming student, in a
hospital as a result of domestic violence was not something Sean was prepared
to handle. Yet prepared or not, he had never let a student down and wouldn’t
start today.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Tell me what you know.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Margo continued with an even and understanding tone despite
the fact she’d just waited through <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9200535935711384855">several seconds </a><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span><a class="msocomanchor" href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9200535935711384855#_msocom_3" id="_anchor_3" name="_msoanchor_3"></a><span></span></span></span>of
silence. “I don’t know anything other than what I’ve told you. Like I said, it
was a message. We haven’t reached the mother yet. But I think you might have an
idea why your eighth grade student may have received a beating from his
father.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ice shot through Sean’s system, starting in his heart and
radiating outwards, like little shards were bounding inside his veins. “Because
he’s gay.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“I don’t know. But I’ve contacted Child Services and a case worker
will meet with you today. If your suspicions about this student are correct and
this domestic dispute is related to sexuality, you’ll need the extra support.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">A hint of defensiveness flashed in Sean’s mind. He was
perfectly capable of handling the situation. But the thought vanished as
quickly as it’d come. <i>This isn’t about
you. It’s about a scared, hurt boy.</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“I think that’s a great idea, Marge. Do you know when I
should expect a visit?” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“First thing.” Sean looked at his watch once again, as if it
held the answers to all of his questions. “He’s a great guy and really good. I
know this boy is special to you, and Emery Benton will help you help Lamar.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">That one comment was why Sean loved what he did. He worked with
a woman who supervised about a hundred and thirty schools in the geographically
poorest urban district in the country and still knew a specific student was
special to him. “Thanks Marge, I’m looking forward to meeting him.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Good luck.” Her voice had returned to its normal tone.
“Keep me posted on this one.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Will do.” Sean hung up the phone then lifted his hands to
his face and rubbed vigorously. “Shit.” He’d kept his voice quiet, measured,
but his mind was racing. A picture of Lamar, unconscious, in a hospital bed,
ripped at his nerves. As much as he helped his kids make the right choices, he
had no control over the choices other people made. This came close to his worst
nightmare coming true. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sean closed his eyes and took several deep breaths through
his nose, releasing them evenly through an open mouth. With each breath, Sean
focused inward, gently urging his body to relax and release. After ten breaths
he was able to regain some measure of balance.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">There was no use overthinking the situation until he had
information. All he knew was Lamar’s father was arrested, Lamar was in the
hospital, and whatever happened was being labeled domestic violence. That
didn’t mean Lamar was the victim of a homophobic hate crime. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Turning to the stack of papers, Sean took the first one into
his hands. An unsatisfactory rating for a senior teacher. <i>The union’s gonna have a field day with this.</i> He skimmed through
the report, attempting to convince himself he’d actually pushed Lamar from his
mind and moved on to other responsibilities. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">After reading the first sentence for the third time, he had
to submit to the truth. He wasn’t going to be able to focus until he found out
what happened and formed a plan. Evaluations, letters and professional
development took a back seat to his students, and right now Lamar needed his
full attention.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Fill today with
strength. From your mouth to God’s ears Corrie.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><div style="mso-element: comment-list;">
<hr align="left" class="msocomoff" size="1" width="33%" />
</div>
DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-82131963591783383792013-02-20T18:22:00.002-08:002013-02-20T18:22:38.928-08:00Perfect For Me - release on Friday 2-28<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzU9OQ_IS8BJD8rNPVN45mNjmGrGmBkWp8_vYxbMlgGmeLf5nw8lELzzIMr5eXSMmZF5c_MXg0uaUfjhpLbpUEA0Mm1b1mSBLczmm4ui5dcT-b5gxOilCf-hUYuika1voK5FTe2rhB_Pv/s1600/PerfectforMe_draft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzU9OQ_IS8BJD8rNPVN45mNjmGrGmBkWp8_vYxbMlgGmeLf5nw8lELzzIMr5eXSMmZF5c_MXg0uaUfjhpLbpUEA0Mm1b1mSBLczmm4ui5dcT-b5gxOilCf-hUYuika1voK5FTe2rhB_Pv/s320/PerfectforMe_draft.jpg" width="203" /></a></div>
<b><u>Chapter 1</u></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The music from the jukebox was currently playing a remix of
Don’t Stop Believin’, one of Sean’s favorite songs from his youth. His pleasure
must have shown based on the smile which crept across his date’s perfectly
sculpted face. Cheekbones rose to impossible heights as plump lips curved
upwards, revealing gleaming white teeth. “You like this song, don’t you?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nodding his head to the beat, Sean couldn't help the flood
of memories from a time when his life had been far simpler. “I do. How could
you tell?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jerry edged closer to Sean, placing his hand on the wall the
two were leaning against. The fresh scent of his favorite cologne, <a href=""><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Banana Republic</span>’s</a><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"> </span></span>Classic,
filled Sean’s nose, sending his mood flying. “It’s pretty obvious.”
Jerry’s mouth pulled into a seductive grin. “When the song came on it was the
first time I saw that incredibly sexy dimple.” Jerry leaned in and kissed
Sean’s cheek, presumably where the dimple was located. “Everything about you is
sexy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A simple “Thank you” was all Sean could manage as heat
radiated from his core straight to his cheek where Jerry had just kissed him.
He took a moment to thank his maker for the dim lighting in the bar, hiding
what had to be fully flushed cheeks, then appraised the man standing before
him. Not quite as tall as Sean’s six-foot-two, the man was nothing to laugh at.
He had to be at least six feet, broad at the shoulders, trim at the waist. He
wore casual, loose-fitting clothes, igniting Sean’s curiosity about the
treasures hidden beneath. “You’re not so bad
yourself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jerry dismissed Sean’s comment with a wave of his hand.
“Please. Next to you, I’m an average Joe. Look at you. Your shoulders and arms
are practically ripping the fabric of your shirt.” As if to prove a point,
Jerry slipped a finger under the rim of Sean’s white T-shirt sleeve, fondling
the swollen bicep. Sean couldn’t help but smile <span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">noticing he had to work his finger under the fabric</span>. <i>Big fingers. That’s promising.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And white is definitely your color. <a href="">I’d kill to have that creamy, unblemished
skin of yours.”</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Slinking closer, Jerry removed his hand from Sean’s arm and
placed both on Sean’s chest. He leaned in, breath sweet with a hint of lime—most
likely due to the fruit Jerry had placed in his <span style="background-color: white;"><a href=""><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Corona</span></a><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"> </span></span></span>.
In the softest of whispers, he answered. “Because, each time you lift your arm
or bend over to pick something up, I get a glance at your waist and there’s no
tan line.” Jerry slinked a bit closer. “I also noticed you’re going commando.
Is that usual or something special for tonight?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took a moment for the question to fully register, but
when it did, electricity prickled along Sean’s skin and down his spine,
travelling at lightning speed to his cock. While his member came to life,
trying to introduce itself to a new friend, Sean shifted back and forth on his
feet, unsure how to respond. “Um…I…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jerry’s head tilted back as he emitted a chuckle. “I
embarrassed you. That’s awesome.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The heat which had rushed to Sean’s face intensified as he
tried to determine whether being embarrassed was awesome <i>good</i> or awesome <i>bad</i>. So
far, all of Jerry’s signals were indicating it was awesome good. <i>Let’s go with that.</i> “Okay, so you
figured out one of my secrets. I go commando.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The smile from Jerry’s face lingered, then faded slowly,
replaced by a far more serious expression. As if in slow motion, Jerry drew
closer to Sean, mouth parting ever so slightly. Drawn by an unspoken demand,
Sean leaned in, his lips pressing into the full softness of Jerry’s. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">The kiss was enhanced by the soothing feel of Jerry’s fingers brushing
through the hair at the back of Sean’s scalp, drawing him in closer</span>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Opening to Jerry’s demanding mouth, Sean allowed the fresh
tastes to enter and fill him. Clean, with a slight hint of Corona, Jerry tasted
better than the dinner Sean had eaten. The soft lips did little to buffer the
ferocity of need as Jerry’s tongue laved Sean’s, tumbling in circles. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sean dropped his hands to Jerry’s waist and drew the
beautiful man nearer, reveling in the feel of the hard length of Jerry’s cock pressing
against his own straining member. The rest of the world melted away, the music,
the chatter and laughter of the people at the bar, the lights. Only he and
Jerry existed, connected in a kiss filled with the promise of something more;
something great. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Jerry retreated from the kiss, the world caught up to
Sean in an instant, disorienting him. Jerry’s voice grounded him. “Whoa. You’re
one hell of a kisser.” The words only fueled Sean’s desire to touch him again.
Leaning in, he stole a few more kisses, tamer, gentler ones, but wet and
intoxicating.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah.” Sean shook his head to clear the fuzziness. “Kissing
is my favorite thing to do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A curious brow lifted seductively on Jerry’s face as he
assessed Sean. “It’s your <i>favorite</i>
thing to do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was about to answer honestly, stating he actually did, in
fact, find kissing to be the most intimate experience two people could share.
One look at Jerry’s lust-filled expression caused Sean to reconsider the wisdom
of that decision. Besides, there was a major obstacle he had to hurdle before he
shared anything else.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His throat constricted and the pleasant hum of the conversations
surrounding them dulled as blood forced its way through capillaries in his
ears. Each beat of his heart forced more adrenaline into his system,
stimulating the inevitable fight or flight response. The fact he’d promised
himself he’d always fight didn't make what needed to be said any easier.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once his initial terror eased and his eyes were able to
focus once again, Sean was confronted with the same expression he’d seen dozens
of times before. The plump lips were drawn tight and a slight wrinkle between
Jerry’s eyes indicated he hadn't missed Sean’s pause. “Are you okay? You were a
million miles away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Drawing stale air into his lungs, not even the ironic lyrics
of Diana Ross’s <i>I’m Coming Out</i> blaring
through the bar provided comfort or courage. “I’m fine, but before we take this
any further, there’s something you should know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sweat dampened Sean’s palms and he ran them along his shirt
to dry them. Swallowing on a mouth which had suddenly run dry, he took a large
gulp of the dirty martini he’d been nursing. Staring Jerry directly in his deep
brown eyes, Sean steeled himself, hoping for the best but preparing for what
usually happened. “I’m HIV positive.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On a mental countdown from five, Sean watched the
transformation take place. He could always tell within the first few seconds
what kind of reaction to brace himself for. The initial draining of color from
Jerry’s face was expected, as was the involuntary step back. To his credit,
Jerry didn't behave like an ignorant ass, worrying the kiss they’d just shared
put him at risk. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At Jerry’s first words, Sean knew how the scene would play
out. “Oh. I had no idea.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Of course you didn't.
We don’t wear a membership badge.</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You look so healthy.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Newsflash. I’m
probably healthier than you.</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jerry glanced to his right and left, then faced Sean once
again. On his next words, he failed to lift his head high enough to make eye
contact. “Um. I forgot. I have an early morning tomorrow. But I had a great
time tonight. You’re a nice guy. I’ll call you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sean bit his lower lip, holding in the words releasing Jerry
from any further obligation. Jerry leaned
in stiffly and kissed Sean on the cheek, the stark difference from the first
kiss he’d planted in that same spot was shocking even to Sean. Without another
word, Jerry turned and headed towards the exit. Sean took a moment to
appreciate the retreating figure, admiring how the body moved underneath the clothing. <i>Would’ve been
nice.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once the door closed on the vision of yet another failed
date, Sean brought his drink to his mouth, downing the rest of the contents in
one huge gulp. The burn of the liquid as it slid down his esophagus and into
his stomach eased his nerves. Sean pushed away from the wall and worked his way
outside into the warm spring New York City night.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd of bar-goers gathered around the entrance of the
Boiler Room stopped their conversations when he exited, mouths slightly ajar and
gazes following his movements. He could practically feel several sets of eyes
boring into him. It was always the same. Men were always interested, but as
soon as his secret was out, none of that mattered. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turning the corner onto Avenue A helped to provide some
distance between himself and the immediacy of his disappointment. Still, his
feet trod heavily on the pavement as he worked his way north towards his
apartment on Twelfth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a fleeting moment, he imagined an entirely different
walk home. <span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">One where Jerry didn’t run. Where they stumbled home holding hands, stopping frequently to enjoy languorous kisses.</span> And then,
once they finally managed to make it to his apartment on the third floor… <i>Stop. This isn’t helping you.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Picking up his pace, Sean tried to burn off the rising
emotions within, disappointment rapidly shifting to anger. But even that
seemed to fizzle too soon, leaving him with the familiar sensation of
emptiness. By the time he actually reached his apartment building, he was no
longer staring in front of him, but at his feet, watching the pavement pass by.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Climbing the stairs, the weight of the evening seemed to crush
down upon him. Trudging along the hallway felt more like a prison march and his
apartment was his cell where he served a sentence of solitude. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sean tossed his keys on the table next to the door. The
satisfying clank of metal hitting wood helped to jar his attention from the
somber, self-pitying thoughts in his mind. <i>A
shower. That’s what I need. A nice hot shower and then sleep.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dragging his shirt over his head, Sean stretched his tense
muscles. He clasped his hand and leaned first to one side, then to the other,
the pull of his lats as they extended to their full limit a perfect combination
of pleasure and pain. Unbuttoning his pants, he was about to strip, leaving his
clothing in a mound on the living room floor, when he noticed the blinking red
light on his answering machine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He pressed the play button and after a moment was listening
to his sister’s voice. “Hey, big brother. I know you’re on a date tonight and
if you’re listening to this, you’re probably alone. On the off chance you’re an
idiot and listening to messages with a hot guy in your apartment, congrats. But
if you are alone, call me, no matter what time it is. I’m dying to find out how
things went.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sean snickered half-heartedly. Jen knew him too well.
Glancing at the time, eleven thirty-seven, the kids would have been in bed for
nearly three hours by now, so Sean called his sister’s cell rather than risk
waking his niece and nephew. The phone only rang once before she picked up. “It
didn’t work out?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Nothing like getting
right to the point.</i> “Well, since you know I’m not an idiot, as you so
eloquently stated on the machine, if I was with someone I wouldn’t be calling
you, would I?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ignoring his sarcasm, Jen spoke in a soothing tone, helping
to thaw the ice surrounding his wounded heart. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. You were
excited about this guy too.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of the fight ran out of Sean’s body, leaving him limp
and exhausted. Falling onto the couch, <span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">he propped his feet on the coffee table and</span> leaned his head back so he faced the ceiling. “I was.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Silence stretched out between them as Sean waited to hear
the words of wisdom his sister might impart. When none came, he remembered the
last time she’d tried to console him and the way he’d mercilessly bitten her
head off. <i>Smart woman. </i>“But I must be insane to think that someone like Jerry would want
someone like me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What the fuck do you mean by that? You know I hate hearing
you talk like that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s true though. Why would a smart, handsome, educated man
want to be with someone like me when he could find someone else who’s
everything I am, and not diseased.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The pause on the other end of the line carried an electric
charge, raising the hairs on the back of Sean’s neck. When Jen spoke, he knew
better than to interrupt. “Sean Thomas Sullivan. I’m going to hang up right now
if you’re going to continue the pity party. You’re an incredible man and anyone
would be lucky to have you. The things you say. I swear, if Mom were still
around, she’d kick your ass.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A sigh escaped from deep within Sean’s chest, relieving the
tension which had been trapped there. “I guess. But it’s the same story time
and again. I’m thirty-three. I love my job. I love my family. I love where I
live. But I can’t seem to complete the picture of the life I want. How else am
I supposed to view myself except as damaged goods when each date ends the same
way?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jen’s voice carried a nurturing softness. The same tone she
used when her kids were scared or upset. “Sean. You’re a good man, an
unbelievable brother, the world’s best uncle, and an incredible catch. There’s
a guy out there who will see all of that and will love you for it.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sean was about to protest once again, but his sister cut him
off before he could get a word in. “And don’t give me the ‘<i>everyone says that’</i> crap.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He couldn't help but laugh. “How’d you know what I was going
to say?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Because I’m your sister and your best friend. I know you
and I know you deserve to be happy.” The words rang with confidence, causing a
lump to form in Sean’s throat and a burn to sting his eyes. Knowing his
emotions would sound if he attempted to speak, he remained silent. In a voice
as sweet and settling as hot tea after dinner, his sister continued. “Take a
shower. Focus on the hot water hitting your body. Then crawl into bed and get a
good night’s sleep. Tomorrow’s a new day and you’ll tackle it with pride like
you always do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Through a strained set of vocal chords, Sean managed to eke
out a “Thanks, Jen. I love you”, before hanging up. Obeying her orders, he
climbed into the shower and allowed the heat of the water to penetrate through
his tension, washing away some of his frustration. Rationally, he knew his
sister was right, but that didn't make rejection feel any better.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Settled between a pair of crisp, cotton sheets, freshly
changed, sleep eluded him. Memories of kissing Jerry, and the many other Jerrys,
nagged at him. Was it too much to hope to have someone in his bed, someone to
build a life with? Were it not for his serostatus he’d probably be married by
now. With effort, he shunted the thoughts aside. No sense dwelling on what’s
past. Self-pity had never been Sean’s way and he wasn't about to start
now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His friends had been pushing him to try the dating sites on
the web. So far he’d avoided them, feeling they lacked the organic chemistry of
meeting people in person. Still, he’d read somewhere that twenty percent of
all couples met online. Plus, there were sites specifically catering to HIV
positive people. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">With a plan in place, Sean flipped his pillow,
allowing the cool fabric to soothe him. As his lids became heavier and his
limbs went slack, his sister’s words echoed in his head. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Tomorrow’s a new day,
she’d said. Still, doubt plagued him. The last thing he remembered before succumbing
to sleep was, <i>New day, but why should I
expect different results?</i></span>
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DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-64299486591796487762013-02-05T17:15:00.000-08:002013-02-05T17:15:01.727-08:00Teaser from my upcoming releaseTeaser from my upcoming release, Perfect For Me, MLR Press.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMtX8CSSukJ5Ik7uGsml0ac9oWCYm_KiwWD8Au7CkOKe5LTMf1Tv1eBMx3v4-7VFJQX4DW8sdHBR7x6nDc3I6dWDibIRTxgTjZesdG_E0Ee5OP9OdqmPJEPKa703SFh1nO-wVBW5oaFgiP/s1600/PerfectforMe_draft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMtX8CSSukJ5Ik7uGsml0ac9oWCYm_KiwWD8Au7CkOKe5LTMf1Tv1eBMx3v4-7VFJQX4DW8sdHBR7x6nDc3I6dWDibIRTxgTjZesdG_E0Ee5OP9OdqmPJEPKa703SFh1nO-wVBW5oaFgiP/s320/PerfectforMe_draft.jpg" width="203" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emery started moving about the kitchen quickly but with
purpose, and within five minutes the garlic was sautéing in olive oil in a skillet,
a pot of water was heating on the stove top, the chicken was washed and dredged
in flour and several other ingredients had been laid on the counter top for
later use. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sean sat in a chair by the kitchen table and watched,
impressed by Emery’s concentration. Once the chicken was placed onto the pan,
Emery turned to face Sean. “Why’d you come visit me at my work today? Not that
I’m complaining, but I thought I’d have to work a lot harder at convincing you
to give us a real shot.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It wasn't the question Sean expected. “You want the truth?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Always.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I forced myself.” Heat flooded his cheeks at the boldness
of his admission.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Pardon me?” Emery stood, tongs in hand, facing Sean.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Dating is like going to the gym for me. The first few times
I go I try to come up with any excuse not to. It’s uncomfortable and I worry
about the pain. But in my head I know it’s good for me so I make myself do it.
Eventually, I look forward to workouts.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although the analogy was perfectly clear in his own mind,
the blank expression on Emery’s face suggested he didn't share the same clarity
on the topic. “Let me explain better.” He searched inward, trying to identify
what he’d felt prior to hopping in his car and driving to Emery’s work. <i>Panic and excitement.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emery continued to wait, ignoring the cooking chicken. Sean
stood and took the tongs from him, walking to the stove top and flipping the
chicken breasts. “Well, you already knew I was worried about starting something
up because we work together. That alone is something my dad always warned me
about. I believe his exact words were ‘Don’t shit where you eat’. So I was
already breaking one rule. And then I shared the fact I’m positive with you,
someone who I have professional contact with, which is something I've never
done before. So that was a second rule I broke. And somehow the combination of
both those broken rules felt like I was breaking a third rule which was never
break rules number one and two.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The explanation was lame and Sean knew it, but Emery seemed
to soften. “Alright. But that doesn't explain why you chose to come to my
work.” Sean grabbed the cutting board and the knife he had been using and
walked to the portion of the counter where the potatoes were sitting in a
plastic bag. He began quartering them as he continued.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you have a platter for the finished chicken while I put
fresh pieces into the oil?” Emery handed him a plate and Sean removed the fried
breasts and placed new chicken in the pan. “The bottom line is I don’t like
taking risks which could result in major problems for me. This, what we’re
doing, is one of those risks and my head is telling me to run. But my heart, or
maybe it’s my gut, but something inside that isn't attached to my rational
thoughts is telling me this could be something amazing. So I hopped in my car
and drove over and waited until you came out of the building. Each time I
thought about changing my mind, I pictured the two of us on the bridge and it
helped maintain my resolve.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emery checked the pot on the stove top, nodded, then dropped
the cut potatoes into the boiling water. “So let me get this straight. If I’m
catching your analogy, dating me is like going to the gym?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since Emery was now standing next to him, Sean gave him a
nudge with his shoulder. “Something like that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Silence settled between them. Not an uncomfortable silence
filled with tension, but a natural one. The only sounds in the kitchen were
those of chopping, sizzling, or the whir of the microwave as Emery melted
together butter and cut chives along with a couple tablespoons of minced garlic
he’d set aside. Once all the chicken had been fried, Emery placed the pieces
back into the skillet and poured a bottle of Marsala wine and freshly diced
shitake and baby portabella mushrooms into the mix. He then covered the dish
and placed it into the oven.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grabbing two wine glasses from the cabinet, he offered one
to Sean. “I bought a few bottles of Berenger reserve Cabernet from
the private collection a few years back when I went to Sonoma. It’s the best wine I've ever had. Honestly, it’s worth another trip out there since it’s cheaper
to buy at the vineyard.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sean wasn't one to turn away a glass of wine, but he’d done
his fair share of wine tasting and private reserve bottles tended to be pricey.
“Are you sure you want to waste a bottle on a dinner?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emery stopped his movements and faced Sean, capturing him in
an unwavering stare. “I don’t want you to ever question your worth when you’re
with me. If I say I want to break out the good stuff, it’s because I want to
break out the good stuff. The fact you’re willing to give this a shot, willing
to push yourself out of your comfort zone, it’s better than I dared hope for
and I think it’s cause for celebration.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sean raised his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay.
Remind me never to question you again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emery’s mood softened as he rummaged through a drawer and
procured a corkscrew. “Good. So long as that’s squared away we shouldn't have
any problems.” A hint of a smile crept into place on Emery’s face, setting Sean
at ease.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A glass of wine later, which really was one of the smoothest
and cleanest glasses Sean had drunk in a long time, and the kitchen had filled
with the smells of their dinner. Emery pulled the chicken out of the oven and
the scent of garlic, Marsala, and mushrooms intensified. He set it on the counter top and then drained the potatoes, returning them immediately to the pot
from without rinsing them. The butter/chive/garlic concoction was added to the
potatoes along with a dash of salt and pepper, about a quarter cup of milk, and
two heaping tablespoons of sour cream. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the time all was plated and set on the table, Sean’s
mouth was watering. For the next ten minutes all that could be heard in the
room was the clink of utensils on ceramic. When Sean finally came up for air,
his stomach was full and his body utterly relaxed. “Well. I can honestly say I
haven’t had a meal like that since the last time I went home to Massachusetts.
And I definitely don’t get the treat of the pre-dinner festivities when I’m
home.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emery placed an exaggerated look of horror on his face. “I <i>hope</i> not.” He stood, taking his plate
with him. “Would you like some more?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sean shook his head. “</span> Couldn't<span style="font-size: small;"> fit another bite
in. If we keep eating like this I’m gonna have </span><a href="" style="font-size: 12pt;">to </a><span style="font-size: small;">go to the gym daily instead of three
times a week.”</span></span>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-39141091378469274642013-01-26T12:32:00.001-08:002013-01-26T12:32:14.789-08:00<b>Here is a sex scene I just wrote. Thought I'd share it this random Saturday morning. It's a pure draft, I literally just wrote it, and I was trying to convey the emotional connectedness two people feel when they are making love and not just fucking.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Enjoy!</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
There was no foreplay, no warm up activities or loosening
of my hole. Rhys spat into his hand, rubbed his saliva over the head of his
cock, then pushed into my entrance. While he didn’t thrust all the way in one
motion, he didn’t hesitate to breach me and the initial burn cause me to clench
my teeth, sucking in air in an audible hiss. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
After the initial penetration, Rhys did manage to slow
down, sliding into me at a measured pace. Without lube, each inch felt like
miles of pain and pleasure blended together. It wasn’t until I felt the tickle
of his pubic hair against my ass that I could finally relax, knowing he was all
the way in. With painstaking control, he withdrew until only the head remained
inside me, then began the process all over again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
For several strokes, Rhys plummeted into me, then pulled
out, until my body had acclimated to his length and girth. I was used to being
the top in our relationship and this was the second time in less than I week
when Rhys had taken me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Even more surprising is how much I enjoyed submitting to
his will, deriving pleasure from knowing my body was a vessel for Rhys to use
as he wished. Wrapping my arms around Rhys’s broad torso, I held on as if I
were on an amusement park ride, shutting out everything except for the aromas,
sounds, and sensations as Rhys picked up his pace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
With each downward motion, my body was stretched, accommodating
Rhys’s powerful invasion, yet at the moment I felt I would almost burst, just
before the pleasure would have turned to pain, Rhys managed to stop, as if he
knew what I was feeling inside my body and able to bring me straight to the
edge and back again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Over and over, Rhys drove me to near explosion, then eased
me back down. My muscles quivered from strain and use. Sweat poured down my
body, my skin slick against Rhys’s. And Rhys’s eyes bore into me as if he were
looking directly into my brain. Could he actually hear my thoughts? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
As I thought the words, Rhys spoke them with just the same
inflection as my internal voice. “I love you, Cal. More than anything or anyone
in this whole world.” Heat swelled within me, originating in my heart and
radiating out. By the time it had flooded my entire body, I felt as if I were
on fire. Rhys grabbed my waist and slammed into me, pounding his hips against
my ass. Then he went still and his cock became impossibly thick as it pulsed
inside me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
With each spasm of his muscles, his dick seemed to slide
even further into me. The grunts and groans threw me into a cloud of euphoric
bliss, the only thing helping to cool my heated body and racing mind were the
droplets of sweat which rained onto me off Rhys’s glistening skin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Despite the overwhelming strength of Rhys’s orgasm, his
eyes were locked with mine. Whatever storms of sensation flowed through the
man, his focus was entirely on me. For a split second, I saw what words would
never be able to express. The blue irises seemed to pulse, their color at once
freeing me while holding me directly in place. And in that short moment, we
were one person. I couldn’t grab hold of words or name internal sensations, but
held in his gaze, I was right where I needed to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
And then the freeze-frame rushed forward and time caught up
with itself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Fireworks exploded throughout my body, ripples of
electricity rushing in waves and crashing into one another, creating a tortuous
and blissful sense of being tickled everywhere all at the same time. But all
that energy funneled to my core when the muscles of my hole clenched around
Rhys’s still pulsing shaft.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
What felt like a fireball, one which radiated the most
luxurious heat, took hold in the middle of my body, filling me like air, until
each nerve ending screamed with alertness. And <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Pressure build upon pressure until I thought I might pass
out from sensory overdrive, and then it exploded in a mixture of light, heat,
and pleasure. Muscles deep inside my ass undulated, sliding in rapturous spasms
against Rhys’s still-massive shaft. Each passing second, Rhys seemed to dink
deeper into me as my muscles slowly lost control and my body became helpless to
my orgasm. It was as if my entire body clenched and the first string of my own
seed shot straight past my head, splattering somewhere on the floor a few feet
away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Rather than lessening with each wave of release, my muscled
seemed to collect more energy, each body-racking wave of pleasure more powerful
than the last, until finally, when black had begun to edge its way into my
vision, my body settled and the waves seemed to subside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
I had no concept of how much time had passed, but according
to my body, I’d just run a marathon. Slowly, my muscled stopped shuddering and
I could feel cool air against my skin. The last thing to come into focus was my
vision, and the first thing I saw was Rhys, an expression of happy satisfaction
on his face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
I reached up and placed the palm of my hand against his
cheek. Normally clean shaven, his stubble rubbed abrasively against my hand. Approvingly,
I acknowledge I could deal with a scruffy Rhys. Especially if he was going to
start fucking me to heaven and back like this.<o:p></o:p></div>
DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-62229762295925301332013-01-02T11:05:00.000-08:002013-01-02T11:05:00.856-08:00Perfect For Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPwIJKaMTv5pwjHEgWHnsAI5w4Oas4bTUxjZ2NoNrOVBd4tmKiDGMnv2u-7vj1oG8ONNSkeoOt6RJnsKnAyAajTb9ZdhdKCvlbTYOqtsrL7b0eHehyphenhyphen4LQy2eDjFQFZhVq7EwDTFDAO0th/s1600/PerfectforMe_draft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPwIJKaMTv5pwjHEgWHnsAI5w4Oas4bTUxjZ2NoNrOVBd4tmKiDGMnv2u-7vj1oG8ONNSkeoOt6RJnsKnAyAajTb9ZdhdKCvlbTYOqtsrL7b0eHehyphenhyphen4LQy2eDjFQFZhVq7EwDTFDAO0th/s320/PerfectforMe_draft.jpg" width="203" /></a></div>
<br />
This is a new release coming out in February or March of 2013.<br />
<br />
To see my current;y published work, visit, <a href="http://www.dhstarr.com/">www.dhstarr.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1: What is the working title of your book?</b><br />
Perfect For Me<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>2: Where did the idea come from for the book?</b><br />
At the first GRL conference, I was drinking with Kris Jacen and we were talking
about topics NOT covered in the genre of gay romance. One such topic was the
pairing of HIV positive and negative men. I found this to be a topic worth
tackling.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>3: What genre does your book fall under?</b><br />
Gay contemporary romance<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>4: Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie
rendition?</b><br />
Sean would be James Franco and Emery would be Channing Tatum<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>5: What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?</b><br />
Love is not bound by restriction.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>6: Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?</b><br />
The book is coming out through MLR Press<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>7: How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?</b><br />
About 3 months for the first half, followed by a 6 month break, then 2 months
for the second half.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>8: What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?</b><br />
Caregiver by Rick R. Reed, Song for a New Depression by Kergan Edward-Stout.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>9: Who or What inspired you to write this book?</b><br />
Kris Jacen.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>10: What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?</b><br />
I’ve flipped the plot on its head. Where you’d expect the negative guy to be
the one to have to realize it’s okay to date someone positive, I have it so the
positive guy is the one with the hang up about a negative partner.<o:p></o:p><br />
DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-33937346795029817422012-11-06T19:59:00.000-08:002012-11-06T19:59:04.730-08:00Blacque / Bleu by Belinda McBride<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTmrfMwH_DrKGAdHZQwoWPk9-Jvmz7OKQRLQQLxIkEvFNvwzo_gvIaMI_Yv68-4rDkx_OcjXpEPo9LuPzEXDFrBAU2zi-9q66CGQA5qts6vQK72qFqBv-W-KAb7cMdniQmvNCKHQpOFCUd/s1600/BlacqueBlue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTmrfMwH_DrKGAdHZQwoWPk9-Jvmz7OKQRLQQLxIkEvFNvwzo_gvIaMI_Yv68-4rDkx_OcjXpEPo9LuPzEXDFrBAU2zi-9q66CGQA5qts6vQK72qFqBv-W-KAb7cMdniQmvNCKHQpOFCUd/s320/BlacqueBlue.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Title:</b> Blacque/Bleu<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Author:</b> Belinda McBride<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>ISBN:</b> <b><span style="background: white; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">9781607378662</span></b><span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">ASIN:</span></b><span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">B004FN2D3A</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Publisher:</b> Loose Id<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Price:</b> $6.01<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -.5in;">
<b>Buy Link:</b> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Blacque-Bleu-ebook/dp/B004FN2D3A/ref=sr_1_4_bnp_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1352159086&sr=8-4&keywords=belinda+mcbride">http://www.amazon.com/Blacque-Bleu-ebook/dp/B004FN2D3A/ref=sr_1_4_bnp_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1352159086&sr=8-4&keywords=belinda+mcbride</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -.5in;">
<b>Rating:</b> 5 Stars<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Blurb:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lukas Blacque is a
deeply closeted werewolf, and almost more than anything in life, he desires his
neighbor, Oliver Bleu. Oliver is a vampire who is slowly dying from insomnia.
More than anything, he needs Lukas Blacque and the rich blood that flows
through his veins.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the day that
Blacque makes an important commitment to his family and pack, he also succumbs
to temptation and agrees to a passionate weekend with the alluring vampire. At
sunset on Friday, it’s all about urgent lust and the drive to lose his
virginity. When the sun rises on Monday, lust has shifted to love and devotion.
He's not sure he can walk away, even for the commitment he's made. He's even
less sure Bleu will let him go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Blacque’s world,
vampires and werewolves make uneasy bedfellows, and a gay werewolf is an
impossibility. In Bleu’s world, all living creatures are little more than
vessels for food and sex. But in the mysterious and magical town of Arcada, the
unexpected is always waiting right around the corner. Now Blacque and Bleu just
need to survive long enough for Arcada’s magic to work for them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>Doug’s Review<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Blacque/Bleu </i>is
the first book I’ve read by <b>Belinda
McBride</b> and it certainly won’t be the last. I met Belinda at this year’s
GRL in Albequerque and she was such a bubbly personality, friendly and all
smiles. I listened to her read a section from an upcoming release, the sequel
of this book, and I had to read the story inspiring what I’d heard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The story follows Lukas Blacque, a werewolf, the son of the
pack alpha, and Oliver Bleu, a vampire nearly a century old who never wanted
the life forced upon him. While the two get off to a slightly rocky start,
Blacque bumping into Bleu in a bar and a near brawl, the ensuing sex they share
in the alleyway was nothing short of red-hot. And it set in motion the coming
together of two of the most vibrant couples I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in
a long time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the evening of this life-altering moment, Blacque’s
father tells him he’s planning for Blacque to become the next alpha. Not
terribly social to begin with, taking the position of alpha was setting him up
for a lot of resentment…which would ultimately lead to challenges. Add to the
mix he’s gay, something frowned heavily upon in his world, and the stakes for survival
rise even higher. Yet he can’t deny what he feels for Bleu and agrees to a
weekend of exploration and connection with the alluring and beautiful vampire.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bleu has watched the handsome wolf ever since he moved into
the mystical town of Arcada. He’s let himself go, miserable in his isolation
and in having the life of a vampire forced on him. He’s so weak when we meet
him, he’s at the point of fading completely. In order to survive, to continue
to exist, he needs blood more powerful than the human food he’s lived on; Blacque’s
rich werewolf blood.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As their weekend progresses, Bleu can’t deny the depth of
his feelings for Blacque. At the same time, the large were is surprised at how
natural being with a man feels and how much he loves to relinquish his control
and submit to the man who’s quickly capturing his heart. When the weekend is
over, they end their brief affair before their relationship can even begin.
What follows is a wonderfully heart wrenching, action-packed story which
examines the depths of each their longing and needs while forcing them to balance
desire against duty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Blacque / Bleu</i>
touches on all of the elements I so adore in erotic romance. First and
foremost, it’s a love story. It delves into the inner emotions of both
characters, displaying their raw wants, while portraying the monumental forces
which conspire to keep them apart. The sex they share is both physically
astounding and emotionally packed. Whereas Blacque is experiencing physical
sensations and feelings entirely new to him, Bleu’s heart is blossoming as he
realizes he still has the capacity to love. Add to those interwoven story lines
the ascension of Blacque into the alpha’s inner circle and Bleu’s past coming
back to threaten everyone, and you have the recipe for a masterpiece.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I read this book over three days, needing to take time to
stop and simply think about what I’d read. And then, about two-thirds of the
way through, it was like a bomb exploded and I couldn’t put the book down. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For those who love paranormal romance, this is a must read.
For those who love exquisite love stories, this is a story you can’t afford to
miss. All I can say is I can’t, can’t, can’t WAIT until the sequel releases on
December 4.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Rating:</b> 5 stars<o:p></o:p></div>
DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-60066136325455590132012-08-20T03:00:00.000-07:002012-08-20T03:00:00.092-07:00Introducing Authors Exposed<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><a href="http://authorsexposed.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;">Authors Exposed</span></a> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">Over the past month I have had the wonderful opportunity to plan and prepare for the launch of a new blog called "Authors Exposed". This blog brings together several authors of M/M erotic romance with the purpose of interacting directly with you, the reader.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Who we are (click over name to be redirected to their website):</b></span></div>
<ul style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://fynalexander.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Fyn Alexander</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.sedoniaguillone.com/" target="_blank">Sedonia Guillone </a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://jaredrackler.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Jared Rackler</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://pdsinger.com/" target="_blank">PD Singer </a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.dhstarr.com/" target="_blank">DH Starr</a></span> </li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://ethanjstone.com/" target="_blank">Ethan Stone</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.edenwinters.com/" target="_blank">Eden Winters</a></span></li>
</ul>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><u><b>The way we work:</b></u></span></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Every two weeks we will post a reader question or topic on our blog. All of the participating authors will then respond so you can hear a range of responses. It's as simple as that. If you want to ask us a question you can visit any of our pages on the blog and send us an email. We are also establishing a Goodreads group and a group on Facebook so you can feed us your questions.</span></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We want to interact directly with you and learn what interests you, what angers you, what you like that you're seeing in the books you read and what should be eliminated or avoided. This is a forum for you. We just get to be the lucky passengers who learn from your interests.</span></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The site will be going live on <u><b><span style="color: red;">Monday, August 27</span></b></u> so stay tuned.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<br />DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-43148910925601528412012-04-17T19:53:00.001-07:002012-04-17T19:57:10.604-07:00The men of Feed. Prey. Love.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcoT4vcYZKxCurau7NtmkA5MrsuxYE5AdZf9idcAJANz4zqDZRcHUmHzmvH7dYDHYQ0KkkcHCphuk5GJBwQtT_L5J8OACwsJigFFV33XiZ99huOmhYkCeahOp4d2pOyj5CQKvtkle5-2M/s1600/Talib.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcoT4vcYZKxCurau7NtmkA5MrsuxYE5AdZf9idcAJANz4zqDZRcHUmHzmvH7dYDHYQ0KkkcHCphuk5GJBwQtT_L5J8OACwsJigFFV33XiZ99huOmhYkCeahOp4d2pOyj5CQKvtkle5-2M/s1600/Talib.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talib</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Talib is one of the heroes of the
story. He’s a 200 year old vampire, originally from Palestine, who has
experienced disappointment after disappointment in terms of the people in his
life. But no disappointment was harder to accept that his failure when he lost
control one fateful night and turned a human into a vampire. Having been turned
against his will, Talib swore he’d never do the same to another. This failure
sends Talib into a life of seclusion. He feels it’s better to live in isolation
where he can’t hurt anyone else, rather than risk making another mistake.</div>
</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DFlc8-9NPf5uHcPCg8wDEQnBTqvu2VEvy6BtikIWIgY2GGFVAc9wjtqUP6gtK_CE_NWm32KTj6ZYLYd1IZ4sDJolDgVDLxWhlhrGKI4msNg2L-BubAmZRxqiJYebxYO3Re-U1IZWjAfa/s1600/Conley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DFlc8-9NPf5uHcPCg8wDEQnBTqvu2VEvy6BtikIWIgY2GGFVAc9wjtqUP6gtK_CE_NWm32KTj6ZYLYd1IZ4sDJolDgVDLxWhlhrGKI4msNg2L-BubAmZRxqiJYebxYO3Re-U1IZWjAfa/s1600/Conley.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Conley is a handsome human with a
sculpted body. Men lust for him and Conley is never at a loss for attention,
but the attention is surface, shallow, and ultimately leaves Conley feeling
even more alone. What drives Conley is his fierce intellect. He loves books,
etymology, and above else, he’s a master at the meaning of names. Whenever he
meets someone, he can’t help but share with them the meaning of their name. Of
course, once he opens him mouth, the physical interest of his potential lovers
fizzles like air rushing out of a balloon. When he meets Talib, someone who
immediately appreciated Conley for who he is, not just how he looks, something
awakens within Conley. The problem, Talib doesn’t want to be tempted by another
human.</div>
</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6KjK0IFYLbVnj0uhPRscm78-SLAPICzPVa5fAJs2T5aDvqWVVsbivjTDCfwFigTAhAxhSwtb5_HjS1AkfMLxyZZMJfW3A3_AqR-9xixuhTvD4z5ZzqT48uhLqqFN6VSJljen9vDavJgb/s1600/Jonah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6KjK0IFYLbVnj0uhPRscm78-SLAPICzPVa5fAJs2T5aDvqWVVsbivjTDCfwFigTAhAxhSwtb5_HjS1AkfMLxyZZMJfW3A3_AqR-9xixuhTvD4z5ZzqT48uhLqqFN6VSJljen9vDavJgb/s200/Jonah.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jonah</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Jonah is the vampire Talib turned
nearly a century ago and is the reason he has kept himself in seclusion. As a
human, Jonah was fiercely intellectual, a professor at Harvard, and extremely
arrogant. When he set eyes on Talib, he knew the man (or vampire although he
didn’t know it at the time) was someone he wanted. After Talib turned him, his
arrogance intensified, his superficial needs and desires bolstering him to a
place where humans were merely food, toys to be played with before killing
them. After Talib spurns him, Jonah slinks into the shadows, waiting for his
chance to exact revenge. That time comes the moment Talib lets his guard down
and begins to love Conley.</div>
</blockquote>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Buy
Links</span></u></b></div>
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Ai Press: <a href="http://www.ai-press.net/">www.ai-press.net</a></div>
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Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Feed-Prey-Love-Whispering-ebook/dp/B007SZR896/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334259089&sr=8-1">http://www.amazon.com/Feed-Prey-Love-Whispering-ebook/dp/B007SZR896/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334259089&sr=8-1</a></div>
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All Romance: <a href="http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-feedpreylove-771680-139.html">http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-feedpreylove-771680-139.html</a></div>
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Barnes and Noble: <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1110061974?ean=2940014165105">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1110061974?ean=2940014165105</a></div>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-43245997389258246692012-04-15T04:03:00.002-07:002012-04-15T04:03:26.467-07:00Alexios' Fate by Kayla Jameth<strong><span style="color: blue;">My friend Kayle Jameth has been kind enough to share her hot book Alexios's Fate with me so I can shire it with you. The excerpt below is hot. I need a cool shower now. But then again, what could possibly be hotter than a once straight man figuring out he prefers the company of men?</span></strong><br />
<strong> <span style="color: blue;"> -D. H. Starr</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alexios' Fate takes place in Iron Age Greece at the
beginning of the 5<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> century BC. That may sound ancient and evoke
thoughts of mud huts and stone tools, but it was actually the Classic Age of
Greece. All the achievements that Greece is famous for occurred at this point
in history. (For you Gerard Butler buffs, my story predates the 300 by nearly
20 years.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The world that Prince Alexios lives in is exactly what any
man of his age expected. They are closer to their world than the modern man is
and the magic is still present. The gods and their lesser brethren still walk
the earth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Onto this stage, walk my characters:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9H6jIqLpRFaydFrgbEA_VEntmPsXvumzim3mnXYWF87WLU3MddM-6tPBT82YIqhJ4AbY4AEwx2yJ_BAFNij6NtGO83rmr-une8tqwZGtU55Uy9pZSI566LMUWIXNJMvINvbA5TqchQmk/s1600/AF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9H6jIqLpRFaydFrgbEA_VEntmPsXvumzim3mnXYWF87WLU3MddM-6tPBT82YIqhJ4AbY4AEwx2yJ_BAFNij6NtGO83rmr-une8tqwZGtU55Uy9pZSI566LMUWIXNJMvINvbA5TqchQmk/s320/AF.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Prince Alexios is a young man who has just come of age. He
is expected to take up the duties of a man; chief among these is to take a
mentor. His father further expects him to make an advantageous marriage
alliance when aristocrats didn't typically marry until they were in their 30s.
Needless to say, Alexios is not pleased by this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh86YRkOo40VhlP38n36EPEB-JpcaCL5a13apKBL2rFVPQ0SyXbtv-2Ou57GF9kr0udiDYTX_V2YEKJtLaeq9PEDUolEFMhWwBAVEpKrqqRdlwQG9NEV-MCIdbJ61VgFgujkjqLQVZDg_my/s1600/j1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh86YRkOo40VhlP38n36EPEB-JpcaCL5a13apKBL2rFVPQ0SyXbtv-2Ou57GF9kr0udiDYTX_V2YEKJtLaeq9PEDUolEFMhWwBAVEpKrqqRdlwQG9NEV-MCIdbJ61VgFgujkjqLQVZDg_my/s320/j1.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">King Lykos is from one of the neighboring city-states. He
and a few other kings have been invited to Alexios' coming-of-age celebration
as a possible father-in-law/mentor. His is a mature warrior and statesman, a
true man's man for his era.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjne8iB_u30yfTqRHqvzpopgkKU3kCAAXNhGlD6eKeTxb5f2g-g-drDeKqIjPFBf7lOVrlMXOI508qh_fZP9WhG93P2Dj7_fDYEFlplLty6lYLBBkrsDvuHCRWA0nNrdZhW6fdKQBireP/s1600/j2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjne8iB_u30yfTqRHqvzpopgkKU3kCAAXNhGlD6eKeTxb5f2g-g-drDeKqIjPFBf7lOVrlMXOI508qh_fZP9WhG93P2Dj7_fDYEFlplLty6lYLBBkrsDvuHCRWA0nNrdZhW6fdKQBireP/s320/j2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Galen is Alexios' slave and has been with him for better
than half of his lifetime. While Alexios has always treated him well, he has
still had a rather trying past few years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alexios' Fate is the first story in the Apollo's Men series.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Blurb:</u></b> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The
mature King Lykos has a sexy confidence that turns Alexios' head. Seduced by
Lykos, Prince Alexios discovers a world of men he's never known before.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Meanwhile his slave Galen has gotten tired of waiting in the
wings. He sets out to woo Alexios and win his heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even Apollo can't leave Alexios alone. The young prince
finds himself pursued by a god and in danger of a perilous love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">How will Alexios follow his heart when he unwittingly wins
the favor of a god? Can Alexios escape the fate of Apollo's past lovers and
have the man he wants?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Buy Link:</u></b> </span><a href="http://www.breathlesspress.com/alexios-fate"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">http://www.breathlesspress.com/alexios-fate</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Excerpt:</span></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After seeing to the fiery steed, he paused to give his own
colt some of the fragrant grass and scratch his ears. The shift in his colt's ears
alerted Alexios to the presence of someone else in the stable. With a final pat
on the withers, he turned toward the intruder, pleased to find Lykos.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lykos descended on him with fire in his eyes. A shiver raced
through his body as Alexios realized he wanted whatever the older man had in
mind. Once more his cock stirred to life as Lykos swept toward him like a wave
before the storm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Ah, there you are. I wondered if I would still find
you here. It took me longer to get away from the others than I would have
liked."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"You followed me?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I asked your brother where you had gone."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He crashed down upon Alexios and bore him back against the
side of the stall. The king slipped both hands under Alexios' tunic, grabbed
his ass, and tugged their groins together. Alexios thrust against Lykos almost
before he could get his hands on the hips surging against him like the tide.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I knew you wanted me. I watched you get hard on the
deck of my ship."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Maybe that was just the excitement of being on a
warship, naked in front of the whole crew."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lykos threw back his head and laughed, startling several of
the drowsy horses. "We shall see about that!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Blunt fingers massaged and parted the hillocks of Alexios'
ass before one probed his hidden valley. Like the advance scout of a conquering
king, the digit explored him with a thoroughness that caught him unaware and
left him breathless. When Lykos' finger passed over his opening, the tip
pressed lightly. His blood thundered in his ears so loud he almost didn't hear
the groan that ripped from his throat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Like that, do you?" Wine scented breath played
along his neck. "I'll show you other things you will like even more,"
the dark voice promised more of the world of men Alexios had just discovered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alexios allowed himself to be turned until he faced the
wall. Cool air washed over his lower body as Lykos eased his tunic up to his
waist. Something hot and hard slid between his nether cheeks, rubbing up and
down his crack. When the head pushed against his hole, he leaned back. He
wanted more, but had no idea how to go about getting what his body craved.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A deep chuckle vibrated against his back. "Easy. There
will be plenty of time for that. But for now we'll take it slow."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The older man thrust up his cleft a few more times. Lykos
shifted and his cock slipped under Alexios' ass to rub on the sensitive skin
behind his sac. He pulled Alexios' hips back against his groin until the head
of his cock mashed against Alexios' balls. With a groan, Alexios placed his
crossed forearms on the wall and rested his head on them, pushing his hips back
into Lykos' solid body.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alexios smiled at the sudden hitch in the older man's
breathing. Maybe the control didn't rest solely in Lykos' hands.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"You want me, Prince? I'll give you all you can
handle."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I think you want me too."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I'll show you what I want you for!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hard hands drifted over his hips and thighs, stroking the
skin and making his body tingle. He pushed back against the strong body holding
him, shoving the head of Lykos' cock into his balls again. Twin moans entwined
in the dark air.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Squeeze your legs together tightly." The sexy
rumble commanded instant obedience and a thrill shot down Alexios' spine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Girls had never had half this effect on him when he fucked
them. Why were men so much more arousing? Did he enjoy the take-charge attitude
of the man holding him? Did he prefer hard bodies and firm hands over feminine
softness? The answer to his questions rose ever-proud before him. Precum leaked
down his length and pooled in the dark hairs at the shaft's base.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One hand grasped his hip and held him steady as Lykos drove
his engorged cock between Alexios' thighs. The other hand wrapped around
Alexios' damp cock, gliding up his shaft to squeeze the head with a gentleness
unexpected in hands used to the sword. The firm grip slid back down to the
base, the moist friction heaven on Alexios' skin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His panting breaths matched the gasps of the older man as he
thrust with growing fervor into the king's hand. Lykos let him set the pace. He
stood while Alexios' hips snapped forward into his hand then drew back against
him, rubbing the man's hard cock over the sensitive skin and into his balls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Come for me, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">erômenos</i>."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With an inarticulate cry, Alexios pulsed out string after
string of pearly cum. Dazed by his release, he wondered how much cum a man
could spend in one day before he ran dry. When the last spasm left him weak, he
slumped back against Lykos.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Muscled arms encircled his waist and kept him upright as the
older man plunged between his legs with increasing urgency. His balls swung
back and forth under the onslaught. Lykos surged forward and buried the entire
length of his cock within the sheath of Alexios' sweat slicked skin. Hot cum
bathed his balls as the man holding him twitched his hips forward in a series
of shallow thrusts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lykos' weight on his back bore them both down against the
wall, pinning Alexios beneath the king's larger, heavier frame. Content to be
held in place while their harsh breathing slowed, Alexios marveled at the speed
at which he had yielded to the man.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"You called me '<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">erômenos</i>.'
I'm not your beloved. You aren't my mentor yet."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lykos nuzzled the back of his neck and nibbled on his ear.
"Is there any doubt? Theocritus enjoys bringing a youth to heel.
Andronikos doesn't have the taste for taking an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">erômenos</i>. Philon is too old and his daughters already wed."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After their breathing slowed, the king stirred. Lykos
stepped away from him, allowing his tunic to drop back down into place.
Alexios' cum covered cock and balls grew clammy. He reeked of sex. He hoped his
father and the other kings would think he had indulged with one of the slave
girls. His standing with his father, not to mention his father's plans to
acquire an advantageous alliance, would suffer if any of the other kings
discovered what he had just done. He resolved to garner an alliance with the
man who had just shown him a world he wanted to become part of.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I believe you are competing in three days. When I see
you there, naked before everyone, I'll remember that you wore my seed."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alexios endeavored to settle his tunic to hide the evidence
of what they had just done. The cum on his cock and balls made the cloth cling
suggestively to him. He searched in vain for something to wipe the thick fluid
off. After noticing the amusement on Lykos' face, he settled for washing with
some of the water from the large collecting tank. He might not be wearing the
man's seed any more, but the smell clung to him and his clothing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Now, my young prince, return to your father's house. I
will remain here a little longer."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lykos aimed a playful swat at Alexios' ass as he left the
stable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Buy Link:</u></b> </span><a href="http://www.breathlesspress.com/alexios-fate"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">http://www.breathlesspress.com/alexios-fate</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A knight and a former princess, Kayla Jameth now spends her
time writing m/m romance. A true Renaissance woman, she has done everything
from cross stitch like a proper lady to welding with the best of them. An
eclectic life has left her with a unique understanding of the world inhabited
by men and an appreciation for the difficulties faced by men in m/m
relationships. It is her devout wish that her experiences translate into a
richer telling of such tales. A minor in classical history left her with a
special love of ancient history, especially during the classical period.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">FaceBook Author Page: </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/KaylaJameth"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">http://www.facebook.com/KaylaJameth</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">FaceBook Page: </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002318660540"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002318660540</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Blog: </span><a href="http://kaylajameth.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">http://kaylajameth.blogspot.com/</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Twitter: </span><a href="https://twitter.com/#!/KaylaJameth"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">https://twitter.com/#!/KaylaJameth</span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Google+: <a href="https://plus.google.com/107333108737742946339/posts"><span style="color: blue;">https://plus.google.com/107333108737742946339/posts</span></a></span>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-4484358825749995262012-04-14T01:00:00.000-07:002012-04-11T21:32:16.491-07:00My Experience With Autism and Special Needs<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Fact about Autism</b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>There is no blood test, no scan, and no image that can detect autism. Diagnosis relies on behavioral observation and screening</b></span></i><br />
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As an educator, I have come into contact with autism in all of its multiple forms. In fact, I love the term "spectrum" which is used to describe the wide variety of degree and impact this condition has on the individuals affected. Students diagnosed with autism generally receive special education services and have Individualized Educational Plans (IEPs as they are called in schools). Like any child with special needs, there are multiple hurdles which must be overcome in order for a person to reach their full potential. Some of those hurdles are addressed by professionals who are trained in supporting people with autism, but other obstacles can only be overcome if people change their views on what it means to have "special needs".<br />
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Just about every group of people who deal with people with special needs, have misconceptions about what that actually means. Students fear being labeled and parents fear their students will lose self-esteem or get stuck in a track that will hold them back from achieving their full potential. Unfortunately, even some teachers hold different standards and expectations for children with special needs. I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "Well, that would probably be okay work in this class, but this is really good work since it was the special ed class who did it." <br />
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People with special needs can achieve everything that people without special needs can achieve, they just require modifications to how material is presented because they learn differently. My experience with autistic people is they can fall between the cracks because they are quiet and don't draw attention to themselves. On the opposite end of the spectrum, they can be highly functional academically, outperforming students at their grade level or even in higher grade levels, but who act out due to a different sense of socially acceptable behavior. These kids get labels as quiet and average or smart and trouble-makers. But if a person has autism, they are neither. Instead, they require the correct set of supports to adequately challenge them and to present material in a manner which suits their personalities and needs.<br />
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If I could impart one message to everyone, it is to remember that if someone has special needs, whether that classification is given due to autism or any other condition or diagnosis, it doesn't equate to lesser abilities. So when you hear people holding lower expectations for people with special needs, even if they are doing so with good intentions at heart, speak up, educate people and let them know that we all have special needs from time to time. Heck, I'm a bitch at least once a day so, when that happens, people need to adjust their approach with me or risk getting their heads snapped off. I may not have an IEP, but that doesn't mean I don't have specific needs at different times.<br />
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My two protagonists in my newest novel, <b style="color: #cc0000;">Feed, Prey, Love</b> which is now available through <b style="color: #20124d;">Ai Press</b>, <b style="color: #20124d;">amazon.com</b>, <b style="color: #20124d;">All Romance</b>, and <b style="color: #20124d;">Barnes & Nobles</b>, are very similar to people with autism, actually. Talib, a two hundred year old vampire has isolated himself from society, not feeling like he belongs and feeling misunderstood by both humans and other paranormals. Conley, an understated human, wants to find someone to accept him for all his quirks, but has learned that men only see him for his beautifully sculpted outer shell. Once they get a glimpse at his peculiar intellect, they run for the hills. It isn't until these two men meet that they find the person who provides what the other needs and then both are able to flourish. Of course, I had to throw a villain into the mix to threaten their happiness, but what fun would a romance novel be without that kind of tension?<br />
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For more information about my new release and other books I have written, you can visit my website at www.dhstarr.com. If you would like to purchase <b style="color: #cc0000;">Feed, Prey, Love</b>, you can purchase a copy at <a href="http://www.ai-press.net/">www.ai-press.net</a>, at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Feed-Prey-Love-Whispering-ebook/dp/B007SZR896/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334203588&sr=8-1" target="_blank">amazon.com</a>, <a href="http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-feedpreylove-771680-139.html" target="_blank">All Romance</a>, or <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1110061974" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a>.<br />
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I will give a free copy of Feed, Prey, Love to someone who responds to this blog. I'm interested to hear what your experiences have been with people who have special needs.<br />
<br />
Thanks for taking the time to read this.DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-62026432270878477912012-02-24T17:55:00.000-08:002012-02-24T17:55:47.905-08:00Feed, Prey, Love Meet Conley BerilloHey everyone:<br />
<br />
A few weeks back, I introduced you to Talib Eldrige, a two hundred year old vampire. Now meet the other protagonist of my upcoming novel, <u>Feed, Prey, Love</u>. Conley is a sweet, understated guy who's uber hot and a bit geeky.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Conley Berillo stared at his computer in the billing department of Miriam Hospital. His isolated, windowless cubicle was squeezed into a forgotten corner of the basement, just the way he liked it. The person utilizing the adjoining cubicle was threat enough to his solitude. While most of his co-workers bitched about the job, the depressing room, their lives, Conley was content to remain in his private little hole, away from roving eyes and unwanted attention.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">His fingers danced over the number pad to the right side of the keyboard. The rapid clicking on the keys sounded like the patter of rain on a roof during a thunderstorm. He didn’t need to look at his fingers or the screen to know he input the data accurately. This was his ideal job. Consistent, familiar, predictable. A new stack of bills each day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Listening to the steady tap of his fingers, the numbers streaming in orange across the old DOS system, Conley calmly settled into his seat. He didn’t need or want to be creative. Creativity was for people who wanted to be noticed. His whole life, he maintained a low profile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Images from his childhood crept into his wandering mind. Recollections of an awkward, pale, wiry, boy. The last one picked for games. Never invited to parties. His only friends the characters in the books he loved to read.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Finding the hidden stack of his mother’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Playgirl </i>magazines provided the first clue to his primary difference. The barely-clothed men on the covers captured his attention and he couldn’t resist opening one magazine to look inside. The sight of the tanned, muscled men, erections arching along their bellies, drew him in as if inviting his eyes to absorb every vein. The ridge which separated the shaft from the inflamed glans evoked longings he didn’t understand. He had been eleven at the time and spent countless days in his mother’s closet when she was still at work, masturbating to those beautiful men, fantasizing what he might do if only they were real and there with him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">In high school, rather than join the relatively active GLBT club, he retreated deeper into his own shell. He didn’t fear rejection, fairly certain he would be, but something inside grew uncomfortable around others. Even in college, where being gay was not only accepted, but seemed to be popular, he still couldn’t bring himself to join with the community. Like oil and water, they mixed together, but never truly combined.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">His few sexual experiences had occurred after dorm parties. All involving him on his knees blowing a guy, but never receiving a blowjob in return. He hadn’t even kissed anyone before. Instead, he had come to expect physical contact to be sporadic, followed by proclamations of how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fuckin’ wasted</i> the guys were afterwards. The boys never talked to him when he saw them around campus, not even glancing in his direction as they passed by.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Everything in his life screamed “different”, “outsider”, “you don’t belong”. And he accepted it with little resistance.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Turning back to the mound of papers in front of him, Conley sighed and continued punching in code. A hint of heaviness settled in his chest, the thoughts of his youth and his loneliness like a vise creating an uncomfortable pressure he couldn’t seem to escape. Before he had a chance to obsess, his phone rang, causing him to jump. The double-ring meant it was an external call. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Only one person would call me at work.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">A brief smile crossed his lips as he picked up the phone. “Hi, Purvis.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“How’d you know it was me? Never mind. You got a minute to talk?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Conley considered whether to be truthful before answering. Purvis was his first, well, to be honest, his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only</i> real friend. Still, ever since he had moved into Whispering Hills, something inside him had begun to bloom. The presence of paranormal creatures opened him up. He had never questioned why he felt so awkward throughout his life; not until he lived with paranormals. They too seemed to live in isolation, outcasts like him, who didn’t really belong to the world they inhabited. Once he began to interact with the residents of Whispering Hills, the parallels between their existence and his own became obvious.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">While most humans rejected paranormals—acknowledging they were real, but keeping them as far away from their lives as possible—Conley embraced them. He knew too well what it felt like to be ostracized and for the first time believed he belonged.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">In fact, moving to Whispering Hills after college hadn’t been a choice. It had been a compulsion. The need to live with others like himself, people who existed alongside scrutinizing, hateful people following their every move, overpowered him. In the wonderful building at the top of the hill, diversity was embraced. Even the humans who lived there were more approachable, more open-minded and accepting of difference.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Conley, you still there?” Purvis’s voice was light, a hint of a giggle coming through the phone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a few minutes. What’s up?” He held the phone tightly in his hand, bracing himself for what Purvis might say. If there was one thing he could count on about his friend, it was complete unpredictability.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“So, you know I’m throwing a party tonight and you’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">going</i> to be there.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Purvis’s voice was even bubblier than usual, causing Conley’s smile to fade. The fairy was up to something.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Anyway, I—”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Please tell me this isn’t another one of your set-ups.” Conley didn’t know if he could handle another set-up. Not when Purvis was using his own Fairy Dust before playing matchmaker. It was as if every male in Providence became an Adonis as soon as Purvis used his dust. Unfortunately, Purvis’s lust-induced version of an Adonis usually translated into a sober person’s troll, literally.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Don’t interrupt. And, since you are being such a prissy little—”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Okay, sorry. Go on.” Conley rolled his eyes, well aware Purvis couldn’t see him do so.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Much better.” The chipper tone returned. “To answer your question, yes, this is another set-up, but this time I know the guy will be perfect for you. I’m sure of it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“That’s what you said about the last guy. Remember, the lanky elf who wore make-up…sparkly make-up no less.” Conley appreciated his friend’s attempts to pair him off, but he preferred his men to be men.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“I’ll admit he was a poor choice on my part. I was thinking of my own tastes with him, but this one is different.” Something in Purvis’s voice changed. He sounded more serious, as if he were truly certain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Who is this perfect man you have lined up for me?” As much as he didn’t want to allow his hopes to rise.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“I’m not telling you. All you’ll do is create reasons why he isn’t good enough for you. Just remember to pick up some Nectar of the Valley when you get off work and bring it over to my place. I need about ten bottles. Actually, buy eleven. You and I can drink a bottle when you get here.” He paused., then, “Just make sure you dress hot!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Before Conley could respond, the line went dead. Turning back to the stack of papers in front of him, he continued working. He’d sworn never to let Purvis push another man in his direction. But there had been something in Purvis’ tone…something…different this time. As he worked, he couldn’t help wondering about this mystery guy. Who would inspire such certainty in Purvis? Could it really be possible after all? As the hours passed, Conley’s anticipation of meeting someone new lifted the heaviness weighing him down before the call.</span></div>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-92125966116383084982012-02-20T02:00:00.000-08:002012-02-20T02:00:09.087-08:00Sloan ParkerOk, so here is a comparison I've made in my own warped way between Sloan Parker and Leonardo DiCaprio. When I think of Leo, I can't think of one movie he's done that wasn't excellent. Well, I wasn't crazy about The Beach, but that movie is offset by all of his other AMAZING movies. Well, Sloan Parker hits it out of the park with each and every book she writes. It's utterly amazing and makes me drool with both jealousy and hunger for her next book.<br />
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You can learn more about Sloan by visiting her website at <a href="http://www.sloanparker.com/index.htm">http://www.sloanparker.com/index.htm</a><br />
<br />
So, enjoy this intgerview with Sloan.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPVVqVncBvPz8-qf7-R6OjMwQ1RZRWAhAMEaJgyE7SqTyxnDa4XYTVwLu94BhCUT5MF7hBGSrhfq43GNtHKuIP9ic7Seq8tBPNfFMNkWMRvhhUuxzg42rSRHvNVCFfXtybFOKrdY5OB2o/s1600/Breathe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPVVqVncBvPz8-qf7-R6OjMwQ1RZRWAhAMEaJgyE7SqTyxnDa4XYTVwLu94BhCUT5MF7hBGSrhfq43GNtHKuIP9ic7Seq8tBPNfFMNkWMRvhhUuxzg42rSRHvNVCFfXtybFOKrdY5OB2o/s1600/Breathe.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dhstarr.com/breathe.html" target="_blank">My review of Breathe</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sloanparker.com/books-Breathe.htm" target="_blank">Learn more about Breathe</a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some basics so readers can get a snapshot of you:<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What’s your favorite food?</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Oooh, that’s a tough one. I love Italian. I could eat pasta or pizza almost anytime. Oh and the homemade tacos and burritos we make are yummy. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What’s your favorite movie or television show?</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I don’t really have a top favorite of either. There’s too many good ones to pick from, but I did just start watching Hot in Cleveland and am having a great time with it. Betty White rocks that show! And I just saw Crazy, Stupid, Love. It had one of the funniest moments I’ve seen in a movie in a long time.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> I</span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">n your spare time you like to?</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> My favorite way to spend my free time is to just hang with my sweetie. Lately we’ve been catching up on TV shows we’ve missed in the past few years. Snuggling on the couch while we watch is one of my favorite things.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKdcWS598Es0mxrebGsFvqkMgmjiVchm6U0rnLz2hajzjYePyKojo8DtY44txyrp6AqjPvrvDKBHlCuDqAt6YJY3oshve5DWrGyWArBzYMQWqKQolxnrHj8ORBvaEaKQNn8VB4gISltPr/s1600/SP_More_coversm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKdcWS598Es0mxrebGsFvqkMgmjiVchm6U0rnLz2hajzjYePyKojo8DtY44txyrp6AqjPvrvDKBHlCuDqAt6YJY3oshve5DWrGyWArBzYMQWqKQolxnrHj8ORBvaEaKQNn8VB4gISltPr/s1600/SP_More_coversm.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sloanparker.com/books-More.htm" target="_blank">learn more about More</a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You the author:<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Who is one of your favorite protagonists and what do they think about you? Would he or she want to hang out with you?</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I don't think I could ever pick just one. I have loved all my heroes. In fact, I wouldn't have kept working on their stories if I hadn't fallen in love with them. For me each man is so unique, with his own set of admirable qualities that it's hard to compare them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been surprised by some of my secondary characters, though. They came alive in ways I hadn't expected. I was caught off guard by how much I came to love Nancy and her kids, especially Adam, from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Breathe</i>. I’m not sure those kids would want to hang out with me, though. If they did, they’d want to know why I did what I did to their house. Adam would probably have a few choice words for me. Guess I’d just have to remind them how good they have it now and how happy their Uncle Linc is now that he’s found Jay.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you could have a relationship with one of your characters, who would it be? Why?<br />
</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I’ve said I fell in love with all my heroes. But…if I was forced to choose one, I guess I’d say Richard from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More</i>. All that attention and compassion and passion directed at you would be a hard thing to pass up. <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How much of your stories come from your own life and how much comes from your imagination? <br />
</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’d say a great deal is from my imagination. Usually my character details and the starting points for the stories begin from things like observations of those around me, from strangers, songs, movies, TV, and real-life stories. Then my imagination runs wild as I outline the story. The characters become something very unique. Their actions and reactions are driven by who I have created them to be. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do you write your stories or are you a conduit for your characters?<br />
</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was just talking about this with some writers in my local writing group. So many people talk about their characters talking to them, directing the story, etc. I rarely feel this way. I do get surprised by what comes up in the writing and what I start exploring about the characters that I wasn’t expecting, but rarely do I feel like there is this person in my head talking to me. It’s more like I become these characters or I can put myself in their shoes to tell their story, but it’s still me directing them through their actions and interactions. I create a detailed character sketch for each of the main characters , so as the plot moves along, I know how these men will react to each situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Which book is most unlike you? Where did it come from?</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Definitely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not sure how I got started thinking about it, but I wanted to write a love story where three people all met at the same time, where one of them was the most reluctant to get into any relationship, someone who was avoiding love, and tell the story from his point of view. <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEc4qMuDEvmrx0Bb1ze6tA5mn7TkDwYUnfb9z0yrDvarksPRttYQsYTeoP2b61HyW1tHaTLotrphE9UmGvs33K9MkFfoJE9lRsCWU6EkYHmTTl77e0DkbmfItZWlm6mLUijjmh8WNH9mFE/s1600/SP+-+take+me+home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEc4qMuDEvmrx0Bb1ze6tA5mn7TkDwYUnfb9z0yrDvarksPRttYQsYTeoP2b61HyW1tHaTLotrphE9UmGvs33K9MkFfoJE9lRsCWU6EkYHmTTl77e0DkbmfItZWlm6mLUijjmh8WNH9mFE/s1600/SP+-+take+me+home.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <a href="http://www.sloanparker.com/books-TakeMeHome.htm" target="_blank">Learn more about Take Me Home</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting Personal:<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Captain Kirk or Dr. Spock?</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Captain Kirk. That man just knew how to give a look. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Which was worse? Elementary, Middle, or High School?<br />
</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Middle school. God, kids are so darn mean at that age. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Summer, Fall, Winter, or Spring? Why?<br />
</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fall. Love the change of colors where I live. Love the cooler weather where you can put on jeans and a sweatshirt and head outside. Love breathing in the crisp air and listening to the swish of the leaves as you walk.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br />
Thanks so much, Doug. These were really fun questions!<br />
<br />
Sloan Parker<br />
</span><a href="http://www.sloanparker.com/"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="color: blue;">http://www.sloanparker.com</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"> <o:p></o:p></span>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-28304609989393179602012-02-18T07:06:00.000-08:002012-02-18T07:06:08.492-08:00A. J. Llewellyn<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRd9QTxcivZ3mv9slYSQJhk8PTcOrnmgfRNfzbDEzHWsdnrZ2o9qG_ptIcwjvNW8peoSjOSjBDO2CktGyQS7iJ1sQzXoTVrE2nN_WymBbzJLbWA2QPqRb19NeZvKO3_tCPcQsvd_El1h35/s1600/Bunyip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRd9QTxcivZ3mv9slYSQJhk8PTcOrnmgfRNfzbDEzHWsdnrZ2o9qG_ptIcwjvNW8peoSjOSjBDO2CktGyQS7iJ1sQzXoTVrE2nN_WymBbzJLbWA2QPqRb19NeZvKO3_tCPcQsvd_El1h35/s320/Bunyip.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/Bunyip.html" target="_blank">Click here for more information on this book</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Some basics so readers can get a snapshot of you:<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What’s your favorite food? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I love Hawaiian, Chinese, Thai and Mediterranean food</b>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What’s your favorite movie or television show? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hawaii Five-O - both versions!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">In your spare time you like to? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spare time? What's that? LOL...well I write, read, surf and I love to spend money at the very few record and book shops left in my neighborhood. I haunt Freakbeat Music like a plague of locusts and I could spend a whole day at Amoeba Music!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><o:p> </o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">You the author:<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">If someone hasn’t read any of your work, what book would you recommend that they start with and why? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Oh boy that's a tough question. I would probably start at the beginning though with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Phantom Lover</i>. It's still one of my favorites! I have a cunning plan you see...there are 16 books in the series. Hopefully the person will then want to read them all!</b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">If you could have a relationship with one of your characters, who would it be? Why<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">? I would say Kimo Wilder from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Phantom Lover</i>. He is my fantasy man. And he has magic powers. He could make me really skinny!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">How much of your stories come from your own life and how much comes from your imagination? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A lot of my stories come from my own life. Of course imagination is involved but I even went to a gay circuit party in Palm Springs as an observer and turned it into a book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Oasis</i>. I was a bit shocked by what I saw but hopefully I didn't show it!</b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Corbel; font-size: small;">4</span> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Is there any particular author or book that influenced you in any way either growing up or as an adult? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Oh yes, S.E. Hinton. I loved her books. They really spoke to me. her first publishing deal at fourteen. I got to meet her a few years ago and spent a whole day with her and she is really amazing. I found it interesting that she says she can't read her books now...they are too full of painful memories. I will probably feel like that about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bunyip</i>, my most recent release because it is a very personal story. I struggled with losing my beloved dog of 15 years and I lost her as I was writing this book. I miss her every day.</b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Getting Personal:<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">If I came to your house and looked in your refrigerator, what would I find<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">? A jar of kimchi, blue corn tortillas, leftover salmon from last night and tons and tons of Hawaiian juices!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What was the best thing before sliced bread? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Unsliced bread? Right out of the oven?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Captain Kirk or Dr. Spock? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Do I have to choose? Really? Okay, Spock...grumble grumble...<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Summer, Fall, Winter, or Spring? Why?<br />
Which was worse? Elementary, Middle, or High School? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Elementary. My mother died when I was six and it marked my early years...come to think of it, it marked all my years but the first years without her were awful.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What is something that would surprise your readers if they knew it about you?</span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">I would just like to thank everybody who reads my books, those who write to me and tell me they love my work. That keeps me and every other writer going. Our readers rock!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Thank you!</span></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">A.J.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-2495619259784225482012-02-10T00:01:00.000-08:002012-01-08T18:56:25.967-08:00Ethan Stone<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'd like to thank Ethan Stone for agreeing to guest blog. Below you can learn more about him and his wonderful work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">You can learn more about Ethan and his work by visiting his website: </span><a href="http://www.ethanjstone.com/" rel="nofollow me" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>http://<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break"></span>www.ethanjstone.com</strong></span></a><br />
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If you haven's read Ethan's Flesh series, you really have to . Those books are amazing. Click on the book covers to be redirected to the buy link and Dreamspinner Press or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_2_11?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=ethan+stone&sprefix=ethan+stone" target="_blank"><strong>click here</strong></a> to be directed to his books on amazon.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=1959" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4ShHJgurVniFvEQpnXcpw0usdGY0hUZnRGeRI4xSvvj5-JlJnFDRjBGeiDR468U3uG3s5KJEGHnGx-mVKH2norSC-NmWnmb7grCV4nxA6PlOrKKfUZfNF2Rpbz7JttWPbFads7_68vDW/s1600/InTheFlesh.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some basics so readers can get a snapshot of you:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></u></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What’s your favorite food? Pizza without a doubt. Pizza, pizza rolls, calzones. Anything pizza related. I eat it way too often!<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What’s your favorite movie or television show? I am a total TV addict so it’s hard to narrow it down. I love Survivor and Amazing Race for reality shows. Sitcoms are Parks and Rec and The Office. Dramas: Grey’s Anatomy and Supernatural. Oh, Revenge is killer too. So in depth. But I also love Glee. I know: Fairy Dust, Fairy Dust, Fairy Dust.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">In your spare time you like to? Spare Time? What’s that? Between my 13 yr old son, my<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>oh so wonderful day job (Notice the sarcasm) and writing. I don’t have much of that mythical spare time stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2246" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIkLK8FQ5RIK8gsKFfkQHhlC-d9nBaSuC1yJmKR8R6D8JS_1uf9PIJx4XTG7XX4v4V4pCf-pzJHdR90VWVKcAa0HKy91vROFqymYXebQsXDchi2MuFqOOAVhcvtDjJkUqzif0LoBuNd-J/s1600/Flesh%2526Blood.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;">You the author:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></u></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">If someone hasn’t read any of your work, what book would you recommend that they start with and why? It’s a tie between Being Taught, my first published work, and In the Flesh. Being Taught I think shows what I can do with just a little idea. ITF shows what I can do with a large idea. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">How much of your stories come from your own life and how much comes from your imagination? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lately I’ve been realizing exactly how many little details of my life come out in my stories. Obviously I’ve never been arrested for murder or had to join witness protection though.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Do you write your stories or are you a conduit for your characters? I am def a conduit. I just write the words the guys tell me. Sometimes it’s hard to hear everything they say however.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2403" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlaopKfKDWWEbe7eaTSo9Fs7jhaQmLCcbmnMJUQ_3oRh2Zv0upRdtNxhiVCphFysJVZNioVSt_OW1fRENGW5C542V-eePp1OUbsjsuY-Pt2LqPcS3oVPILmS7hJoLuTJu0em2Wb2c74Iw/s1600/Blood%2526Tears.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;">Getting Personal:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></u></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">If I came to your house and looked in your refrigerator, what would I find? Lots of cheese. Brick cheddar, shredded cheddar, shredded mozzarella, provolone. Oh, and Mt Dew of course. Lay’s Kettle Cooked Creamy Mediterranean Herb chips are my new obsession.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What was the best thing before sliced bread? Ummm. Unsliced bread?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Captain Kirk or Dr. Spock? Dr. Who? Not Dr. Who the tv show. I Mean who’s Dr. Spock. The shrink or the pointy eared stereotypical man of Star Trek. No emotions, never smiles. Wait that describes my ex-bf! <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Summer, Fall, Winter, or Spring? Why? I like warm weather that isn’t too hot. So it’s a cross between summer and fall. Hate, hate, hate winter. Which where I live now is like nine months of the year.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Which was worse? Elementary, Middle, or High School? Middle school. Two words—embarrassing erections.</span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Corbel; mso-fareast-font-family: Corbel;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What is something that would surprise your readers if they knew it about you? I’m a collector. So many collections it’s hard to list them all. Shot glasses. Light houses. Comic books. <o:p></o:p></span></div>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-83027847662510696572012-01-28T08:01:00.000-08:002012-01-28T12:26:29.654-08:00Eden Winters – Reviewer Fangirl <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEmxauMJRkTfkVXWLv8pZJvhTiHb05T87G0nc5YO9430U69gK1bgwchT2NDIL6T-yZbkSrTz8ytKPIjjjeRKy8wAkYw2TdVuK07-QLPyfE0UXhvr4gRvxw9eVZTBUiwPACLDucyAIZtLx/s1600/angelof13thstreet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEmxauMJRkTfkVXWLv8pZJvhTiHb05T87G0nc5YO9430U69gK1bgwchT2NDIL6T-yZbkSrTz8ytKPIjjjeRKy8wAkYw2TdVuK07-QLPyfE0UXhvr4gRvxw9eVZTBUiwPACLDucyAIZtLx/s1600/angelof13thstreet.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You've got to read this book!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Hey everyone:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I've got a special treat for you today. Eden Winters has agreed to guest blog and she's one of my very favorite authors. She's got some interesting perspectives on reviewers and review sites. So kick back and enjoy and once you're done reading this, you should visit her site and learn more about the awesome author.</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.edenwinters.com/?zx=a3e151aca155446b">http://www.edenwinters.com/?zx=a3e151aca155446b</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Let's get a few things out in the open before I begin, okay? First off, I'm an author. Secondly, I'll be talking about reviewers. And yes, I'm a reviewer fangirl. I'm not necessarily referring to reviews about my work, either, but reviews in general.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've heard that some authors avoid review sites, and I've seen a lot of blog posts about reviews and reviewers. Regardless, I have to say that I'm very much into reviews for many reasons. Not the one line "this sucked" variety of review, but a well thought out, well stated, honest assessment of a book. These types of reviews are extremely helpful to me, both as a writer, and as a reader who wants to spend her hard earned cash on a book she'll love. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Like a reader with a book, however, I've developed some favorite "writers," for a reviewer <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> a writer. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If you're looking for name dropping, that ain't happening, but my favorite reviewers have a few things in common: </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1)<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>It's very obvious that they did read the book all the way through and perhaps more than once. I love seeing a favorite passage or quotes that gives me a little taste of what the reviewer found enjoyable, or what they found odd, about a book. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2)<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>They give a brief synopsis, but don't give too much away. Again, this shows me they've actually read the book. Spoilers are okay – I have a short memory. I'm old. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3)<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>They list what worked and what didn't, without being harsh or excessively negative. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4)<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>Their review focuses on the work, not on the writer. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now most reviewers I know don't get paid to review. Some are supplied book copies by publishers or the authors themselves, but many buy their own books. The reasons they review are probably as varied as the reviewers themselves. Whatever their reasons for staying up late, reading a book that may be out of their comfort zone, and then wracking their brains to correctly word their responses, they devote a lot of time and effort to what is often a very thankless job. And be you writer, reader, or reviewer, we share a kinship in our love of M/M literature. Does that one star, "What was she thinking?" review hurt? You betcha it does. It's gonna take one hell of a lot of chocolate, a couple of pints of Haagen-Daas, and crying on a friend's shoulder over beer and nachos to get over, but the bottom line is: if not for reviewers there's a lot of folks out there who've read and liked an author's work, who would never have heard of them otherwise. My own hard drive is full of purchases that a reviewer talked me into. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There are those who say reviews are for readers, not writers, but being the opportunist that I am, I'm going to take advantage of critique. Contracts aren't always open-ended, and at some point, a story in which someone said I overused, for instance, the word "vindictive" will fall back into my lap. I now have a chance to enrich my descriptions with a "vindictive", a "spiteful", a "malicious"… you get the idea. The critique is there for the taking, to make my work better. You bet I'm gonna read reviews and glean the benefit of someone else's point of view. Bear in mind that I'm not talking about rewriting my story to please a single individual, but if someone points out a character name misspelling or other glaring error, I'm gonna tip my hat, say "Thank you!" and correct the darned thing if I get the chance. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A post about my fangirldom wouldn't be complete if I didn't mention the reviewers I've communicated with who freely offer their thoughts. You know who you are, and you rock. And to the poor soul who watched in horror as a middle-aged author leapt over a table at GayRomLit to wrap them in a hug and squee, well, I hope I haven't scared you off conventions permanently. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">While my stories come from my heart, and I write what's in me to write, if I offer a novel for sale (or as a giveaway), I genuinely, honestly, with all my heart and soul, hope that whoever reads it feels they spent their time (and money) wisely. Insightful reviewers help me to ensure the value of my work, assisting me to grow as a writer.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So hat's off to reviewers. Keep doing what you do, and I'll keep doing what I do. I'll raise my wine glass, sometimes in toast, sometimes to drown the pain, but either way, may we long continue to read each other's work. </div>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-4390537899838895232012-01-24T16:59:00.000-08:002012-01-24T16:59:06.729-08:00Feed, Prey, Love Trailer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hey everyone. Check out this trailer fro my upcoming book Feed, Prey, Love.</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwoufoFdX_oYTiAQv7siQ6OzX446aklNLOhoGSqkbibFo6MqsOuDJW-0qV9Vkv5NvirGz3AfSkeQ_qiJrj1Bg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-76796729360059636382012-01-22T08:00:00.000-08:002012-01-22T08:00:37.614-08:00Feed, Prey, Love - Prelude<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLwWYcmyq1W1X_pWAu4pQ16aW3KKVAJ5BZoFi-hvRJgWCpnW4bsgedeYTnUiB2QONYdIoZvCeuOrcPr8qG0gPg6eQOWkJ1RrlBLkB7adLfntt9l6S-S7DhfYswtm2zvx12SDXCOCTE0al/s1600/FeedPreyLove200300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLwWYcmyq1W1X_pWAu4pQ16aW3KKVAJ5BZoFi-hvRJgWCpnW4bsgedeYTnUiB2QONYdIoZvCeuOrcPr8qG0gPg6eQOWkJ1RrlBLkB7adLfntt9l6S-S7DhfYswtm2zvx12SDXCOCTE0al/s1600/FeedPreyLove200300.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="Chapter" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Prelude<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div><br />
<div class="ChapterSubtitle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><em>Palestine, 1798<o:p></o:p></em></span></div><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Talib had been named after his late grandfather, meaning <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">seeker of knowledge. </i>His father was filled with pride when, at only eighteen, Talib was accepted to Beit Rabban, the house of the teacher, to serve as an apprentice under Rabbi Elder. It was a bittersweet moment when Talib left his meager village, proud tears streaming down his father’s cheeks. Although Talib inherited a dark complexion and angular, strong features, his frame was slender. Nothing like the muscular build of his father, who served as a commander in the Ottoman Empire army. Yet for all of his father’s size and military success, Talib had never questioned his love. While Talib might never be a military leader, he could show leadership in his own way and planned to open a school house once he finished his own education and pilgrimage. In the meantime, he relished his “special” relationship with his master. Only that eased his great homesickness..<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">He had been at Beit Rabban for nearly six months and missed his family dearly. The longing for home would have been unbearable had it not been for Rabbi Elder’s mentorship. More than a teacher, Elder had been an older brother of sorts, a friend to confide in and a man to emulate. The fact he seemed to be no more than ten to fifteen years Talib’s senior was simply another attribute to admire about the man. Rabbi Elder had to be truly great to attain his position at Beit Rabban at such a young age. Each day, Talib gazed at Elder’s sandy blond hair, the curls of his peyos framing his face perfectly to accentuate his cheekbones while hiding a sharp jawline, amazed that such a great man would devote so much attention to him in his academic studies and studies of the flesh. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">The creak of his door each night was a welcome sound; one he had grown to long for over the past few months. He had lost count of the number of times Elder had climbed into his bed. At first shocked, thinking the pairing to two men a sin against God, Talib quickly reasoned that his mentor and nightly lover knew best. Who was Talib to question a man who knew the Talmud far better than himself?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Rather than dwell on his notions of right and wrong, Talib relished in the spark Elder ignited within him. Longings Talib had felt, but never dared explore, became a reality as he and Elder explored each other’s minds and bodies. To know that a man as worthy of respect as Rabbi Elder wanted the pleasure of another man filled Talib with a sense of wholeness. That he had chosen Talib out of all the other students at Beit Rabban filled him with a sense of pride; a belief that everything within him was true and right.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Rabbi Elder padded softly across the stone floor of Talib’s dormitory room. While there were other students, each received their own sleeping quarters. The accommodations were sparse, walls of stone, a cold and harsh atmosphere, but that was all part of the learning. Sacrifice of personal luxury to better learn to empathize with those less fortunate. Yet as hard as his thin mattress was, the warmth of Elder’s body <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and the give of his muscles pressed against Talib’s own blocked anything else from his senses.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“I’ve missed you, Rabbi.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Soft lips pressed against his own, capturing him in a kiss which began gently, but quickly became fevered. Something was different about the kiss. A hunger which wasn’t normally present. As if Elder had a greater need than usual. Once he pulled out of the kiss, brown pools seeming to glow with an amber fire stared down into Talib’s eyes. “I’ve told you, when we lay together, you are to call me Elder. The lines of master and scholar do not exist when we are together like this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“I’m sorry Rab…I mean Elder. It’s difficult for me to remember. I look up to you so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Elder’s eyes softened, the fire dimming, as he stared down into Talib’s. “It’s all right, my love. Tonight is going to be a very special night for the two of us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Heat washed through Talib, beginning in the pit of his stomach and radiating outwards. The waves of sensation burned from within, yet left an electrified chill along his skin, causing the hairs to rise. His lover’s words incited Talib’s mind, excitement warring with anticipation as he waited for his mentor to continue.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“You know how much I love you, don’t you, Talib?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">The words filled Talib. He would have thought he was floating if not for the weight of Elder’s body on top of his. “Yes, I do. And I love you, Elder. You have given me a gift greater than knowledge, you have given me the gift of awareness.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Elder brushed his fingers through Talib’s black hair, pushing his peyos aside so they splayed on the pillow. He lowered his head to Talib’s neck and pressed his nose to the skin, inhaling deeply, the intimacy of the act causing Talib to shiver. In a husky voice, he whispered into Talib’s ear. “There are things I have not yet taught you, but I would like to.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Anything. I am a vessel for you to fill.” Talib smiled thinking of how many times Elder had filled his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vessel</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Elder laughed. “You are playing with your words, but yes, you are my best and favorite student. Yet there are things not written in books which I must…no…which I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">desire</i> to teach you. I have become…attached to you, and wish to share everything I am with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">The way he phrased his comment sent Talib’s mind soaring skyward. Elder wanted him, was attached to him. He had called him special. “Whatever you wish to teach me, I am willing to learn. You are a brilliant teacher. A highly skilled scholar. A man of great knowledge.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Yes, but I am more. Will you allow me to show you what I am? May I introduce you to the world I live in, one quite different than the world you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">There was mystery behind the cryptic words, forcing Talib’s breath to quicken, each intake shallow, uncertain. But Elder had opened Talib’s eyes, led him down paths which had frightened him, and Talib’s world was brighter and fuller as a result. If his mentor and lover wanted to share something with him, he would gladly receive the gift. “Yes, of course. Anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Elder smiled, but it wasn’t a smile of happiness. Rather, his lips curled up into a grin revealing some other emotion Talib couldn’t identify. Only in the last moment did Talib realize Elder wore no smile. He drew his lips back, exposing teeth which seemed to have grown longer. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fear not</i> were the last words Talib heard before Elder descended, clamping down on his neck.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Razor-sharp teeth penetrated his skin. With a piercing scream filled with pain, shock, and pleasure, Talib gripped at Elder’s head, trying to escape but to no avail. Blood flowed from his neck and into Elder’s hungry mouth, a sickeningly sweet iron odor filling his nostrils. Along with the sensation of blood flowing from him, each lick of Elder’s tongue bringing excruciating pleasure, Talib could also feel Elder’s arousal pressed against his thigh.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Time seemed to slow. The space between Talib’s heartbeats lengthened. The thrum of his blood coursed slower and slower.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">After what seemed like hours, Elder drew back. Crimson blood stained his lips and dripped from his still-elongated fangs. While the bite had been painful, Talib longed for Elder’s mouth to return to his neck, to continue to draw blood from him. Although it was difficult to focus, Talib was able to make out the expression of lust and hunger in his mentor’s eyes. Elder’s arousal continued to drive against him, his own hardened shaft pressing back. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s something other than human. How can this excite me? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“Talib, I am a creature of the night. You have a choice to make. I have drained you to the point of death. You will die if I do not feed you, but if you accept my gift, you will become what I am, and we can spend our lives together, for all eternity.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Through the haze of his faint consciousness, he could make out the earnest expression on Elder’s face. Thoughts flittered through Talib’s mind, disconnected, difficult to comprehend. “A creature of the night? A <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">golem</i>? Not real…only stories.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Elder caressed his forehead, hot fingers burning against his cold skin. “I assure you we are not lore. I am not a demon or possessed by a dybbuk. I am real and I wish to give you the gift of eternal life. Will you share your love with me for all time?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Thoughts slipped through his mind, never taking hold. Darkness crowded in until he could barely see or hear. It wasn’t until the warm drops of thick liquid hit his lips and dripped into his mouth, quenching a thirst he hadn’t realized he’d felt, that his answer came to him. Gripping Elder’s wrist, he pulled the torn flesh to his mouth, sucking with all his might, drinking life’s essence back into himself with each pulse of Elder’s heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">As if waking from a dream, Talib became aware of each of his senses. Sights, smells, scents, sounds, everything coalesced within his mind with great clarity and sensitivity. The fear emanating from a fly trapped in a spider’s web entered his nose. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can smell fear. </i>Along with the coppery, iron flavor of Elder’s blood, he could taste the wine Elder had drunk at dinner. Disconnected thoughts flew through his mind. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How can I taste the wine in his blood? Golem are real?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Sensation upon sensation filled him, only to come to a screeching halt when he heard something he never expected to hear. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have turned him. He’s now mine.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“What? What do you mean you’ve turned me?” Talib was sure he had misheard. It had to be the result of his loss of blood or perhaps the fear coursing through him. He had broken so many rules, he must be possessed by a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dybbuk,</i> the spirit of a dead man who’d violated the laws of Torah. Perhaps he had been wrong in believing what he and Elder shared was right. Was God punishing him for breaking His laws? An image of his home, his father’s proud face, flashed in Talib’s mind. Shame and panic swirled within him, making breathing impossible. He had shamed himself and his family. He had turned on his God; on his religion. All because he had trusted Rabbi Elder.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Elder’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly, only to clamp shut once again. Disbelief, no, shock, settled on his face. “I said nothing, my love. You must still be weak from the transformation.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It can’t be. He couldn’t possibly have heard my thoughts.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">“But I do hear you. What is this? Have you deceived me in some way?” Fear shifted to anger and hurt. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s betrayed me. He’s led me down the path of sin, knowing I could never return to the life I’d dreamed of. He’s forced me to act against my God…so I could be…his?</i> The sense of foolishness closed in and around Talib and he pushed to free himself, to stand, to take in deep breaths of cleansing air. With little effort, his push flung Elder across the room, his body hitting the wall with enough force to kill a man.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Even in the dim light of his bedchamber, Talib saw the color drain from Elder’s face. “But how…how do you know the thoughts which run through my mind?”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> He mustn’t ever find out I did this so I won’t have to be alone any longer. I need a companion. Isolation has left me starved.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">It took him a minute to get over the shock that Elder had not been hurt from his crash with the wall. Talib could hear everything, every truth Elder had failed to tell him. He had not offered Talib eternity out of love. His motives had been selfish. He could hear it in Elder’s mind, for the man could not lie there.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Talib was no longer human. He knew this in the deepest reaches of his being. The change had occurred. He was a dybbuk and worse, a golem. He had broken every rule there was to be broken short of killing. There was no turning back. The truth filling his mind caused Talib to retch, thick red jets of blood erupting from his stomach. When he could speak, he scowled at his former master, the man he’d loved, had given his heart and body to. The man who’d deceived him in the most wretched way. “You did this to me because you wanted a companion?” While the words formed a question, his tone carried all the anger and accusation coursing through him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Raw emotion lifted Talib’s body from the bed. Before he realized what was happening, he was hovering in the air before Elder, defying gravity and laws his human form had to abide. He glided effortlessly, slowly closing the distance between himself and the deceitful man who had irrevocably changed his life. Instinctually, he reached out with his mind, linking it to Elder’s, forcing him into helpless paralysis.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Elder cowered, but was unable to avert his gaze. Talib could feel the will seep out of Elder as his mind gave way to Talib’s strength. He could sense the urge to fight back within his former mentor, but could feel the weakness radiating toward him. Elder wasn’t as strong as Talib. Talib was more than Elder, different. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What have I become?</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Hatred swelled within him as he prepared to strike, but he stopped, released Elder’s mind and lowered himself to the ground until he once again stood on his own two feet. “I will not kill you, nor will I remain with you. You may have taken the life I planned to live from me, you may have turned me into a golem, but you can never take my humanity. I may not be able to return home. I wouldn’t bring that kind of shame to my family. But I won’t stay here with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Elder rushed forward. Kneeling before Talib he wrapped trembling arms around his bare waist. Fear radiated from his very pores. Talib could taste it, smell it. It burned his nose and tongue like acid. “Please. I’m so lonely.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Talib pushed him away once again, not as hard as the last time, but hard enough to make his point. He had no idea what his future held, only that it had been changed. He could not undo the things he had done against God, but maybe there was a way to reverse the evil coursing within his body. Maybe he wouldn’t have to live an eternity, as Elder had said. Maybe he could become what he had always been, pious, a man of God.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho";">Turning to face Elder, disgust filled him. Looking at the weak, pathetic man cowering on the floor, hands raised up in defense, Talib shook his head, a single, sad laugh escaping him. “And so you shall remain, for I must leave you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 3pt 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-10674113006933869282011-12-16T13:00:00.000-08:002011-12-16T13:00:00.882-08:00Friday Spotlight - Jodi Olson<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Juice ITC"; font-size: 48.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Some basics:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What’s your favorite food? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">My Favorite food guess would be anything chocolate if I’m stressed but as far as a favorite nothing really comes to mind.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What’s your favorite movie or television show? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Favorite shows, Greys Anatomy, House and Glee.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">In your spare time you like to? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Read, read oh and read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LOL</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Juice ITC"; font-size: 48.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Jodi the author:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">If someone hasn’t read any of your work, what book would you recommend that they start with and why? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Playing House</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">. It was my first book and its milder then my others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LOL</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">If you could have a relationship with one of your characters, who would it be? Why? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Oh wow, okay I would have to say Jake from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Cooper Stud Ranch</i>. Why? Because he is a tough bad boy doesn’t care what the town thinks of him. Also he is Hot. Or it would be Neal from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Getting Wild</i> because he was based on someone I once knew whose real name is Neal and even though he is pure alpha he is a very nice man with a big heart.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">How much of your stories come from your own life and how much comes from your imagination? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">None of the heroine’s stories are based on me. The hero’s? Only the one hero Neal was based on someone I know. I’ve done a couple stories for fans with some details of what they wanted, like using their name and a few other things but all the rest is imagination.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Do you write your stories or are you a conduit for your characters? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">I write what my characters tell me to write.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Which book is most unlike you? Where did it come from?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Madame Bree and the Sheriff</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"> (wouldn’t own a brothel ever). I love writing historical westerns with sheriff’s and brothels. LOL</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Juice ITC"; font-size: 48.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Getting Personal:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">If I came to your house and looked in your refrigerator, what would I find? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Oh you want to come to my house? Will you cook for me too? LOL Not going to find much it’s pretty empty except for bread, eggs, juice, and soda. I hate to cook.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What was the best thing before sliced bread? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Unsliced bread, I have no idea. LOL</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Summer, Fall, Winter, or Spring? Why? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Spring, the weather starts to warm up but doesn’t get too hot yet.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br />
Which was worse? Elementary, Middle, or High School? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">All of them for me. I struggled during school. Either with grades, getting picked on, no friends, no boyfriends.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">What is something that would surprise your readers if they knew it about you? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #642171; font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">In high school I worked on the school paper for all three years. I broke my leg when I was 12 in three places one bone all the way. I’m terrified of water. Okay that is three things.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Corbel","sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">To learn more about Jodi Olson and her work, visit her website at <a href="http://jodiolson.webs.com/">http://jodiolson.webs.com</a></span></b></div>DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-56541253835999095812011-11-17T08:24:00.000-08:002011-11-17T08:24:00.277-08:00Thursday Therapy - Chris MolinaBishop! He's the light of my life and the greatest sorce of stress. Bishop Dumonte Molina, the perfect blend of myself, Cameron, and Abby. He possesses the best of all of our talents and strengths. He's fast, strong, smart, compassionate. He will have mental abilities as well as physical. People will be drawn to him and not know why. But did I do the right thing in constructing the perfect child?<br />
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Sure, I don't see any outward signs of abnormality and I can't detect any <em>wrongness</em> internally. All systemns function better than the average person (hell, better than the above-average person). But still, I can't help but wonder what will happen once he comes into his powers.<br />
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It's a little rediculous to think of this sweet young boy, baby really, as an adult. My worries won't come to pass for decades...if they come to pass at all. Still, there's something deep inside that rankles my nerves. Did I do the right thing?<br />
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All it takes is one look at those big, blue, pure eyes and I know I couldn't live in a world where Bishop didn't exist. I suppose I'll just have to have faith and believe that things really do turn out for the best in the end.<br />
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Unfortunately, that hasn't always been the way things have worked out for me on my journey. Not with my family and not with my nephew, Anthony. I lost so much. I couldn't bear to suffer a loss like that again. Especially when I have built what I consider to be a true family with Cameron (my life), Abby (my rock), and Bishop (my hopes and dreams).<br />
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Only time will tell and dwelling on things I can't change certainly won't help anyone.DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200535935711384855.post-79444915401314431382011-11-10T08:10:00.000-08:002011-11-10T08:10:00.185-08:00Thursday Therapy - Justin FranklinSo people have been asking me about my relationship with Martin and up til now I've been remaining pretty tight-lipped, but now I kind of feel like I need to set some things straight...well, maybe straight isn't the right word, but you catch my meaning.<br />
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So as you know, I kind of got the crap knocked out of me and Martin was treating me all gentle and timid. That aggitated the shit out of me by the way. But many of you are asking if I like the fact that he's so protective.<br />
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Well, to answer in a word...yes! Who wouldn't love having a boyfriend who treats them like they are something precious. But in another word, my answer is also NO! You have to understand, Martin's a big guy and likes to take charge, but he also likes to protect and for most people that's great.<br />
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As his boyfriend, there are times I don't want protection. There are times I want him to throw me down and take me. There are times I want him to forget about my feelings or my physical needs and to just use me for his own pleasure. What he doesn't get is when I look into his eyes when he's lost in a moment of passion, it's the greatest turn on in the world to me. It could happen at work when he's pissed at some tweaked out perp or it could be right after he's had a premonition and the urgency of what he's seen can be immediately read on his face. <br />
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But when he's on top of me, inside me, and he's lost in a moment of pure, physical release. Man, I come in two seconds flat when I see that expression on his face. <br />
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So if you see him and are talking about me, feel free to give him the hint that he should be a little more selfish in the bedroom. For some reason he won't listen to me. But I love the big guy. Under all that muscle and bravery is the heart of a teddy bear. My six-foot, bulked up, tanned-to-perfection teddy bear.DH Starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02134789363710684939noreply@blogger.com0