To celebrate the release of "How to Walk Like a Man", Gigi at Gay Book Reviews did an interview with Roman, the hero of our story. You can read it here! Eli
Desktop: "How to Walk Like a Man"
Desktop: How to Walk Like a Man
It's my tradition to do a desktop post when I have a new story release, showing images that inspired my story. Today is release day for “How to Walk Like a Man” and here's my desktop post!
"How to Walk Like a Man" is the second book in my “Howl at the Moon” series. It features a brand new couple and romance, but it’s worthwhile to read “How to Howl At the Moon” first to get into the setting and universe.
NOTE: All of these images were taken off the web and fit my mental picture of the story. However, none of them are actually related to the story or characters IRL!
ROMAN:
I searched for quite a while to find the right ‘mental model’ for Roman. He’s a big guy and definitely military in personality and bearing. But I didn’t want a typical chisel-jawed model type. I found this photo below and loved it for Roman. He has a longer face and his ears stick out a bit. And, of course, he’s gorgeous! So apologizes to whoever this actually is (no, I don't know his name), but I liked this image as my inspiration for Roman.
MATT:
I have to admit, I have a weakness for guys with a sense of humor. That was Matt’s most important attribute for me. Ryan Reynolds fits the bill and is a nice mixture of hot and funny/real.
SHERIFF LANCE BEAUFORT & TIM
Lance and Tim’s romance was featured in the first book in the series “How to Howl at the Moon”, but they’re in this second book as well.
MAD CREEK
My husband and I lived in Oakhurst, California for a time. That’s how I picture the setting for Mad Creek, up in the California mountains. But Mad Creek is even smaller and more remote that most real towns in the area.
Above – looking down on the town from a ridgeline with Roman and Matt!
THE SIERRA NEVADA MOUNTAINS
SHERIFF’S OFFICE UNIFORMS AND GEAR
For the Sherrif’s office vehicles and uniforms, I used those from other towns in the Sierra Nevadas. I found some photos that even included service dogs!
Their uniforms – I don’t think anyone could talk Roman into wearing a tie!
Lance’s SUV
Roman’s truck
ROMAN’S DOG FORM & JAMES (his K9 Handler)
DEA uniform (Matt)
Often the DEA will wear simple black jackets or T-shirts with the DEA insignia on the back.
Annnd some extras:
Penny (in dog form)
Minnie (in dog form)
You can check out the "How to Walk Like a Man" page with excerpt and buy links here!
Eli
"How to Walk Like a Man" - Cover reveal & first excerpts!
Yay! It's taken some time to get my ducks in a row, but today is the cover reveal for "How to Walk Like a Man", the sequel to "How to Howl at the Moon"!
The cover reveal is taking place on two blogs: The Novel Approach and My Fiction Nook. Each blog features a different excerpt.
1. The Novel Approach (CLICK HERE)-- includes the first section in chapter 1 plus a giveaway of a $10 Amazon gift certificate.
2. My Fiction Nook (CLICK HERE)-- includes the second section in chapter 1 plus a giveaway of a $10 Amazon gift certificate.
The book is available for pre-order here. Release day is Nov 13!
I loved writing Roman's story and I hope you like it as much as I do.
Eli
The Mating of Michael -- now on audio book!
This has been a good month for me and audio books! "The Mating of Michael" is also now available on audio book and it's wonderful! The narrator, Michael Stellman, previously recorded my story "A Prairie Dog's Love Song". He does a great job with "The Mating of Michael". You can hear a sample at the link below. Thanks, Dreamspinner, for producing this title! http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/The-Mating-of-Michael-Audiobook/B011S4ARJK/ref=a_search_c4_1_8_srTtl?qid=1437311913&sr=1-8
Interview with narrator of "How to Howl at the Moon" Matthew Shaw
"How to Howl at the Moon" was the first audiobook my husband and I self-produced. I interviewed the narrator, Matthew Shaw, about what it was like to read his first m/m romance!
ELi
"The Stolen Suitor" -- new novel just completed!
I once heard a saying: the greatest days of a man's life are the day he buys a boat and the day he sells it. lol
Maybe there's a parallel for authors: the best days of an author's working life are the day he/she starts a new novel and the day he/she turns it in. I'm pretty sure that's the case for me, anyway.
Yesterday I submitted a new novel, tenatively titled "The Stolen Suitor", to Dreamspinner. It's a very plotty book with lots going on. It weighs in at 65K words, which is fairly long for me!
I wrote "A Prairie Dog's Love Song" in the spring of 2013 and it came out Dec of 2013. It's not one of my best-received books, but it's one of my own favorite. Even though it's contemporary, it has a folksy, down-home, cowboyish tone that was inspired by one of my favorite romance authors, Pamela Morsi ("Simple Jess", "Courting Miss Hattie").
When I wrote "Prairie Dog", I already had a sequel/series in mind, but nothing immediately came of it. Finally, I got to return to Clyde's Corner, Montana. "The Stolen Suitor" is the result. Joshua and Ben make an appearance in "The Stolen Suitor", but it's about a new couple and can be read as a stand alone.
Here's the (temporary, a quickie written by me) blurb:
The Stolen Suitor – by Eli Easton
Summary/blurb:
Mabe Crassen has an idea—a wicked, brilliant idea. She wants her older son, Eric, to court the pretty widow in town. If Eric marries her, the Crassens will own the biggest ranch in Clyde’s Corner, Montana. Unfortunately, the widow already has a suitor, Chris Ramsey, the local dandy. Mabe suspects Chris is light in the loafers and sets her younger son, Jeremy, to lure him astray.
Jeremy Crassen wants to go off to college and become a writer. Ever since his father went to prison when he was only seven, the name ‘Crassen’ has been the lowest of the low of Clyde’s Corner. Jeremy grew up hiding behind his long hair and disappearing into his stories. So when his mother promises to give him her blessing for college if he seduces away the suitor of a local widow, Jeremy agrees. Now shy, virginal, secretly gay Jeremy has to figure out how to attract Chris Ramsey, the rich son of the town’s Mercantile, who may or may not like men.
Chris Ramsey is back in Clyde’s Corner after ten years of living in Denver. The death of his best friend convinced Chris he was needed at home. Chris is a settling-down, family kind of guy, and his last free-loving boyfriend convinced Chris he’d never have that with a man. It seems like the right thing to do to marry up with Trix, his best friend’s widow, and help raise 4-year-old Janie. After all, there’s more to life than passion and sex.
It’s when we know exactly where we’re headed in life that lightening can strike out of nowhere. With any lucky we’ll end up, not with what we want, but with what we really need.
What do you think? Are you in?
Eli
"My Fiction Nook" - guest post & giveaway!
Come visit "My Fiction Nook" today where I'm being featured as author of the month. Today's post includes a look at a few of my books, a list of things you didn't know about me and a giveaway of the "How to Howl at the Moon" audiobook! http://www.myfictionnook.com/2015/06/author-of-month-eli-easton-week-two.html
Eli
First Excerpt: "Kingdom Come"
"Kingdom Come" is a murder mystery set in Amish country with a romance subplot (m/f). It's being published by Penguin/Berkley in the Berkely "Prime Crime" line. It will be published under my 'other author name' Jane Jensen since it's more mystery than romance.
Here's the link to the Amazon page.
And here's the first excerpt -- the first scene in the book.
The Dead Girl
“It’s . . . sensitive,” Grady had said on the phone, his voice tight.
Now I understood why. My car crawled down a rural road thick with new snow. It was still dark and way too damn early on a Wednesday morning. The address he’d given me was on Grimlace Lane. Turned out the place was an Amish farm in the middle of a whole lot of other Amish farms in the borough of Paradise, Pennsylvania.
Sensitive like a broken tooth. Murders didn’t happen here, not here. The last dregs of sleep and yet another nightmare in which I’d been holding my husband’s cold, dead hand in the rain evaporated under a surge of adrenaline. Oh yes, I was wide-awake now.
I spotted cars—Grady’s and two black-and-whites—in the driveway of a farm and pulled in. The CSI team and the coroner had not yet arrived. I didn’t live far from the murder site and I was glad for the head start and the quiet.
Even before I parked, my mind started generating theories and scenarios. Dead girl, Grady had said. If it’d been natural causes or an accident, like falling down the stairs, he wouldn’t have called me in. It had to be murder or at least a suspicious death. A father disciplining his daughter a little too hard? Doddering Grandma dipping into the rat poison rather than the flour?
I got out and stood quietly in the frigid air to get a sense of place. The interior of the barn glowed in the dark of winter morning. I took in the classic white shape of a two-story bank barn, the snowy fields behind, and the glow of lanterns coming from the huge, barely open barn door. . . . It looked like one of those quaint paintings you see hanging in the local tourist shops, something with a title like Winter Dawn. I’d only moved back to Pennsylvania eight months ago after spending ten years in Manhattan. I still felt a pang at the quiet beauty of it.
Until I opened the door and stepped inside.
It wasn’t what I expected. It was like some bizarre and horrific game of mixed-up pictures. The warmth of the rough barn wood was lit by a half dozen oil lanterns. Add in the scattered straw, two Jersey cows, and twice as many horses, all watching the proceedings with bland interest from various stalls, and it felt like a cozy step back in time. That vibe did not compute with the dead girl on the floor. She was most definitely not Amish, which was the first surprise. She was young and beautiful, like something out of a ’50s pulp magazine. She had long, honey-blonde hair and a face that still had the blush of life thanks to the heavy makeup she wore. She had on a candy-pink sweater that molded over taut breasts and a short gray wool skirt that was pushed up to her hips. She still wore pink underwear, though it looked roughly twisted. Her nails were the same shade as her sweater. Her bare feet, thighs, and hands were blue-white with death, and her neck too, at the line below her jaw where the makeup stopped.
The whole scene felt unreal, like some pretentious performance art, the kind in those Soho galleries Terry had dragged me to. But then, death always looked unreal.
“Coat? Shoes?” I asked, already taking inventory. Maybe knee-high boots, I thought, reconstructing it in my mind. And thick tights to go with that wool skirt. I’d been a teenage girl living in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. I knew what it meant to care more about looks than the weather. But even at the height of my girlish vanity, I wouldn’t have gone bare-legged in January.
“They’re not here. We looked.” Grady’s voice was tense. I finally spared him a glance. His face was drawn in a way I’d never seen before, like he was digesting a meal of ground glass.
In that instant, I saw the media attention this could get, the politics of it. I remembered that Amish school shooting a few years back. I hadn’t lived here then, but I’d seen the press. Who hadn’t?
“You sure you want me on this?” I asked him quietly.
“You’re the most experienced homicide detective I’ve got,” Grady said. “I need you, Harris. And I need this wrapped up quickly.”
“Yeah.” I wasn’t agreeing that it could be. My gut said this wasn’t going to be a cut-and-dried case, but I agreed it would be nice. “Who found her? Do we know who she is?”
“Jacob Miller, eleven years old. He’s the son of the Amish farmer who lives here. Poor kid. Came out to milk the cows this morning and found her just like that. The family says they’ve got no idea who she is or how she got here.”
“How many people live on the property?”
“Amos Miller, his wife, and their six children. The oldest, a boy, is fifteen. The youngest is three.”
More vehicles pulled up outside. The forensics team, no doubt. I was gratified that Grady had called me in first. It was good to see the scene before it turned into a lab.
“Can you hold them outside for five minutes?” I asked Grady.
He nodded and went out.
I pulled on some latex gloves, then looked at the body, bending down to get as close to it as I could without touching it. The left side of her head, toward the back, was matted with blood and had the look of a compromised skull. The death blow? I tried to imagine what had happened. The killer—he or she——had probably come up behind the victim, struck her with something heavy. The autopsy would tell us more. I didn’t think it had happened here. There were no signs of a disturbance or the blood you’d expect from a head wound. I carefully pulled up her leg a bit and looked at the underside of her thigh. Very minor lividity. She hadn’t been in this position long. And I noticed something else—her clothes were wet. I rubbed a bit of her wool skirt and sweater between my fingers to be sure—and came away with dampness on the latex. She wasn’t soaked now, and her skin was dry, so she’d been here long enough to dry out, but she’d been very wet at some point. I could see now that her hair wasn’t just styled in a casual damp-dry curl, it had been recently wet, probably postmortem along with her clothes.
I straightened, frowning. It was odd. We’d had two inches of snow the previous afternoon, but it was too cold for rain. If the body had been left outside in the snow, would it have gotten this wet? Maybe the ME could tell me.
Since I was sure she hadn’t been killed in the barn, I checked the floor for drag marks. The floor was of wooden planks kept so clean that there was no straw or dirt in which drag marks would show, but there were traces of wet prints. Then again, the boy who’d found the body had been in the barn and so had Grady and the uniforms, and me too. I carefully examined the girl’s bare feet. There was no broken skin, no sign her feet had been dragged through the snow or across rough boards.
The killer was strong, then. He’d carried her in here and laid her down. Which meant he’d arranged her like this—pulled up her skirt, splayed her thighs. He’d wanted it to look sexual. Why?
The doors opened. Grady and the forensics team stood in the doorway.
“Blacklight this whole area,” I requested. “And this floor—see if you can get any prints or traffic patterns off it. Don’t let anyone in until that’s done. I’m going to check outside.” I looked at Grady. “The coroner?”
“Should be here any minute.”
“Good. Make sure she’s tested for any signs of penetration, consensual or otherwise.”
“Right.”
Grady barked orders. The crime-scene technicians pulled on blue coveralls and booties just outside the door. This was only the sixth homicide needing real investigation I’d been on since moving back to Lancaster. I was still impressed that the department had decent tools and protocol, even though I knew that was just big-city arrogance talking.
I left them to it and went out to find my killer’s tracks in the snow.
Guest Post: "My Favorite Shifters" on The Novel Approach
Today I'm a guest on The Novel Approach blog and I'm writing about a few of my favorite shifter romances. This is part of the blog tour for "How to Howl at the Moon"! (P.S. there's also a giveaway). Check it out here!
Blog Tour: "The Dog Shifters of Mad Creek" on Sinfully Sexy
Read about the inspiration behind the dog shifters of Mad Creek (in the new release "How to Howl at the Moon"). You can enter to win a free copy of the audiobook version of this novel, which is coming out as soon as Audible approves the uploaded audio file (1-2 weeks). http://sinfullysexybooks.blogspot.nl/2015/02/how-to-howl-at-moon-by-eli-easton.html#more
Desktop: How to Howl at the Moon
It's release day for "How to Howl at the Moon", the first book in a new m/m romantic comedy series about dog shifters. I had a blast writing this book, and I'm so excited that it's now out there available to the public. Fly little bird, fly! Or maybe, run, little dog, run! It's my tradition to share some of my photo inspiration on release day. So without further ado, here are some images that I found to use as mind candy while working on this story.
NOTE: These are all images I googled. I don't own the rights to them and they are not used in the actual book.
TIM WESTON
Tim is our shy gardener, a full-blooded human who moves to Mad Creek by chance and has no idea that dog shifters exist (or any other shifters for that matter). Tim is tall, lanky, and a bit gawky. I looked for a long time to find the right 'mind model' for Tim physically, and I fell in love with the photo below. Love those bangs! (so does Lance)
SHERIFF LANCE BEAUFORT
The other MC is Lance, a border collie shifter who is the sheriff of Mad Creek, and a determined protector of the town. I didn't find the perfect photo of Lance. He had black hair and brilliant blue eyes, he's compact and muscular, and intense with a capital I! But here are some images that come close....
(THE HAIR!)
(THE TUDE!)
CHANCE (aka Lance in dog form)
Lance is a shifter descended from border collies. In dog form, he's all black with just a touch of white on his chest and a dot on one ear, and he has brilliant blue eyes. He's very intelligent looking. This is the dog photo I used for Lance. He actually looks quite a lot like the dog that ended up on the cover, no?
MAD CREEK
For my setting, I wanted a small town, someplace remote and someplace that felt a bit interesting or exotic. My husband suggested the California mountains. We lived in Oakhurst, California for about five years, a small town in the mountains up the hill from Fresno but before you get to Yosemite. Mad Creek is technically further up into the mountains than that, but I based Mad Creek on Oakhurst. Here are some photos.
RENFIELD (aka "Renny")
Renfield is a puppy that Lance gives to Tim. He's a 100% dog (not a shifter) and he's mostly Bernese Mountain Dog.
LILY (Lance's mother)
Lance's mother is also a border collie shifter with black hair and blue eyes. She's wiry, energetic, and basically a whirlwind of manipulation and buttinski-ness. Julie Louis-Dreyfus is a great comic model for her.
MISC STORY STUFF
Some reference images for rose hips, a Sheiff's badge and the DEA uniform.
That's it for this release! I hope you enjoy the book.
P.S. The audiobook is done and is 'in processing' at Amazon. It should be live in the next week or two!
Eli
"How to Howl At the Moon" -- cover & excerpt!
Release date: Feb 28, 2015
I'm super, super excited about this book! "How to Howl at the Moon" is the first book of a new m/m romantic comedy series featuring dog shifters and a little town in the California mountains called Mad Creek.
I wrote the first draft of this novel during NaNoWriMo in 2014, and I had so much fun writing it. I fell in love with Molly Harper's "Naked Werewolf" series and it inspired me to want to write a humorous shifter series of my own, only in m/m. My husband likes to say he gives me all my best ideas, and I'm afraid there's some truth in that. When I said "romantic comedy with shifters?" He said "dogs!". He was right.
We have three bulldogs of our own and it was a blast to write dog shifter characters and give them dog mannerisms and personality traits. I hope you'll enjoy reading about Lance, his mother Lily (as Lance says, Jewish mothers have nothing on the relentless herding instinct of a mother descended from border collies on both sides), Gus, Roman, and the other residents of Mad Creek. And of course, Tim, our clueless hero.
You can read an excerpt here. And the book is available on Amazon right now for pre-order.
The cover is awesome, no? Cover by AngstyG. (Click for close-up)
Also, I am working on an audio book version of this right now! I hope to have it out around the same time as the ebook.
Eli
"The Mating of Michael" wins in the Rainbow Awards
Pardon me while I hyperventilate. This is the first year I've had a book in the Rainbow Awards and I'm shocked to find that "The Mating of Michael" won 1st place in the Best Gay Contemporary Romance category and second place in the Best Gay Book category. Wow! I feel so incredibly lucky that Michael and James' story resonated with the judges. This will hopefully get some people to pick it up who otherwise might not have tried it. Thank you.
Also, the "Stitch" anthology I wrote along with Jamie Fessenden, Kim Fielding, and Sue Brown, won 4th place for Best Gay Anthology and also won an award for the cover. Whoot!
Check out all the Rainbow Award winners here:
http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/4489098.html
Guest Post: Jamie Fessenden's "Murder on the Mountain" blog tour!
Day Nine of the Murder on the Mountain blog tour!
Although Murder on the Mountain is what’s generally referred to as a “cozy”—a murder mystery solved by an amateur sleuth, fairly light on police procedure—I did do a lot of research on how murder cases are handled in my home state of New Hampshire. I’m incredibly grateful to my friend, Austin, who took advantage of an opportunity to visit the summit of Mount Washington in February and talk to the rangers stationed there.
If somebody dies on the summit, I discovered, this falls under the jurisdiction of the State Park Rangers. The park rangers are fully qualified to investigate crimes committed within their jurisdiction, including homicide, unless they choose to bring in the State Police. Since I hadn’t planned on doing a series of State Park murder mysteries (though that’s not a bad idea, really), I had the rangers call Concord in my novel.
I first thought I’d have Kyle be a member of a local police force near the base of the mountain—perhaps out of Berlin—but it turns out we don’t do things that way in NH. All homicide investigations are handled through the Major Crime Unit in Concord (http://www.nh.gov/safety/divisions/nhsp/isb/majorcrime/ ). So Kyle and his partner, Wesley, have to drive an hour and a half north from Concord to Bretton Wood, where the Cog Railway takes them to the summit. Autopsies are also handled in Concord, at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner (http://doj.nh.gov/medical-examiner/ ), so Stuart Warren’s body is taken down on the Cog and transferred back to Concord.
Since I wanted Jesse to have access to the crime scene and Kyle from the beginning, I fell back on the Ride-Along. This is where a citizen fills out a form and gets approval to ride along in a police cruiser for a day or more. Under normal circumstances, that probably doesn’t include getting close to a crime scene, and the form takes several days to get approved. I fully admit I fudged that in order to keep Jesse from being shut out of the investigation from the beginning.
One thing I stand behind, however, despite several comments from readers about it, is Jesse signing himself into the Mount Washington hotel so he can talk to the murder suspects. I discussed this with some retired police officers in a forum and, even though it seems as though it would be illegal… it isn’t. There is no law that prevents a citizen from talking to a murder suspect. If there were, reporters wouldn’t be able to interview them, and that happens all the time. The police can only restrict access to person after an arrest has been made. Kyle could have thrown a fit, of course. He could have threatened to dump Jesse and never see him again. But he couldn’t force Jesse out of that hotel.
For the next four weeks, Murder on the Mountain will be touring the blogs of several MM Romance authors, providing . If you leave an email address in the comments or email me at jamesfessenden@hotmail.com, you'll be entered into a drawing for either a free copy of Murder on the Mountain or a $40 gift certificate to Dreamspinner Press!
Check out the other stops on the tour at: http://jamiefessenden.com/2014/08/22/murder-on-the-mountain-blog-tour/
When Jesse Morales, a recent college grad who aspires to be a mystery writer, volunteers to work on the summit of Mt. Washington for a week, he expects to work hard. What he doesn’t expect is to find a corpse in the fog, lying among the rocks, his head crushed. The dead man turns out to be a young tourist named Stuart Warren, who strayed from his friends while visiting the mountain.
Kyle Dubois, a widowed state police detective, is called to the scene in the middle of the night, along with his partner, Wesley Roberts. Kyle and Jesse are instantly drawn to one another, except Jesse’s fascination with murder mysteries makes it difficult for Kyle to take the young man seriously. But Jesse finds a way to make himself invaluable to the detective by checking into the hotel where the victim's friends and family are staying and infiltrating their circle. Soon, he is learning things that could very well solve the case—or get him killed.
BUY LINK: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5335
"The Mating of Michael" -- interview & giveaway on Sinfully Sexy!
Check out a new feature about "The Mating of Michael" on Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews. It includes a review by Macky, an interview with me about the book, and a giveaway. (And a cool new graphic, which I stole below) http://sinfullysexybooks.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/the-mating-of-michael-sex-in-seattle-3.html#more
Thank you for having me on the blog!
Eli
"The Mating of Michael" Blog Tour summary post
I was lucky enough to find some great sites to host me for the release of "The Mating of Michael". Here's a summary of those posts:
The Desktop for “The Mating of Michael” (my inspirational images posted on my site)
Help Me To Feel: Sex Surrogacy and “The Mating of Michael” (guest post on Boys In Our Books)
Clipped Wings: Writing a Romantic Hero with Polio (guest post on Joyfully Jay)
Interview with me about “The Mating of Michael” on Smoocher’s Voice
Eli’s Blog Post at RJ Scott’s site about writing m/m romance serials
Still to come: Interview by Macky at Sinfully Sexy on Jul 12!
Eli
Interview with Eli about "The Mating of Michael" on Smoocher's Voice
Jodi at Smoocher's Voice did a lovely interview with me about "The Mating of Michael". Read it here!
Eli
Sex Surrogacy and "The Mating of Michael" (guest post at BIOB)
Thanks to Boys In Our Books for hosting my first blog tour stop for "The Mating of Michael' and my guest post about sex surrogacy! You can read it here: http://boysinourbooks.com/2014/06/30/blog-tour-guest-post-the-mating-of-michael-by-eli-easton/
ELi
Desktop: The Mating of Michael
"The Mating of Michael" launches today, Jun 30th, 2014! That makes me exceedingly happy. "Michael" is the first full-length novel I've written in m/m romance (it has 73K words). So if you've been looking for a 'longer' Eli Easton story, this is it. It's the 3rd in my "Sex in Seattle" series but features a brand new couple and can be read as a stand-alone.
Link to buy "The Mating of Michael" at the Dreamspinner site.
It's my tradition to do a 'desktop' post showing images I used for info and inspiration while writing a book, so here are my images for "The Mating of Michael".
MICHAEL LAMONT:
Of course, first and foremost is Michael himself. He's a gay sex surrogate who works with the Expanded Horizons sex clinic in Seattle. Michael is fairly small and beautiful. He has a flirtatious nature and a gentle soul. The inspiration for his 'exterior shell' came from Isaiah Garnica, an LA based model. Here are a few of my favorite shots:
JAMES GALLWAY (aka J.C. Guise)
Michael's love interest is a reclusive science fiction writer who is in a wheelchair thanks to a childhood bout of polio. I describe him as having a large and rangy, almost 'Lincoln-esque' face and body. Below is a reference shot I liked, though my James's legs are withered by the polio.
EXPANDED HORIZONS SEX CLINIC (Where Michael works part-time)
It's located on Capitol Hill in Seattle (my old stomping ground). It's fictitious, but I picture the building like this:
ELLIOT BAY BOOK STORE (Capitol Hill, Seattle)
Michael meets James here when he's doing a book signing
LEM (one of Michael's patients)
Lem is a sweet man, an older accountant with terrible shyness issues. Here's my photo reference for Lem:
MARNIE:
Marnie is a regular (non surrogacy) patient of Michael's in his work for an in-home nursing company. She's a total hoot! I searched for the most outrageous old lady shots I could find -- imagine this times 10!
MOUNT RAINIER PICNIC
Michael decides to act as 'muse' to James, and he takes him to several beauty spots near Seattle. They have a picnic here:
STEAMBOAT ROCK AND COULEE DAM (Central Washington)
Two more places Michael takes James
MEDGAR EVERS POOL
James and Michael have their second meeting at this pool in Seattle, which has a lift for disabled swimmers
That's it for this story. I'm looking forward to seeing your reviews and comments on "The Mating of Michael"!
Eli
Countdown to Michael -- 15 days
"The Mating of Michael" releases on Jun 30. Only 15 more days! Here's another excerpt to whet your appetite! You can now pre-order it on the Dreamspinner site here.
For those of you who have been asking me for longer stories, Michael is my first full length m/m romance novel at 73K words. Dreamspinner is publishing a paperback also!
Excerpt:
~1~
Seattle, February, 2014
“Gin! Dude, you’re history!”
Tommy laid down a set of fours and a run in hearts and laughed in triumph. The words and the laugh sounded garbled, thanks to the damage to his throat and palate, but Michael understood him just fine.
“Damn, man! You are wicked lucky today.” Michael Lamont shook his head, trying to look disappointed. But he didn’t really mind. Making Tommy laugh was more than worth losing a few card games.
“Well, Monday is my lucky day,” Tommy said with a wink. He pushed his chair away from the table.
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Yup.”
“I see how you are. First, you trounce me, then you try to butter me up. Do you wanna play again?”
Michael asked because he always asked. It was part of their routine. Three rounds of gin, which Tommy won more often than not. After cards came the massage. But Michael asked anyway, even when, like now, Tommy had pushed back from the table and already had the start of an erection in his shorts. The look in his eyes said he’d forgotten all about gin rummy.
“No more cards,” Tommy said quietly.
“Okay, champ.”
Michael stacked the cards neatly while Tommy went over to the bed. A large photo of the Seattle Mariners, inscribed with “To Tommy, best wishes,” and signed by all the players, was framed and hung over Tommy’s bed. He’d gotten that, Tommy had once told Michael, when he was in the hospital after the fire, and they didn’t know if he would live. It was one of Tommy’s most prized possessions.
Tommy dropped his shorts, leaving on his oversized T-shirt and briefs and sat on the edge of the mattress. He watched while Michael put his gym bag on the table and unzipped it. Michael carried everything he needed in there—a large bottle of Eucerin lotion, massage oil, wipes, condoms, a few styles of vibrators, and a few simple toys. He rarely used the toys, but he carried them all the same. He removed his shirt and folded it neatly on the bag before picking up the bottle of Eucerin.
He stood at the side of the bed while Tommy looked at him. Tommy liked to start by gazing at Michael’s chest for a while, and then touching it lightly with his damaged fingers, getting himself aroused. When he was ready, he laid down on his stomach. As always, there were no blankets on the bed, only sheets, so clean they smelled of fabric softener. A few small towels were stacked on the bedside table. Tommy himself had been freshly bathed, and even his ever-present baseball cap looked new. Michael appreciated the effort. He knew Tommy’s mother was very particular about his care. The house was on Lake Washington in the Madrona district and was easily worth several million. But he had a feeling it was Tommy himself who insisted on everything being perfect on Mondays. The thought caused a small ache in Michael’s chest as he gently tugged up the hem of Tommy’s T-shirt and rolled it tight near his shoulders.
Tommy didn’t like to have his shirt removed. Michael thought it gave him a sense of modesty to be able to pull it down over his scars quickly, even if he never did. Michael squeezed a line of lotion up his ravaged back.
Tommy’s life had been devastated one terrible night six years ago. He’d been sleeping over with a friend when the house caught fire. Michael had never been told what had caused the fire or the details of what’d happened, only that Tommy had been severely burned over seventy-percent of his body. Despite years of what must have been painful surgeries, including extensive cosmetic reconstruction, no one would ever look at Tommy and not see a burn victim. No one, that is, except Michael.
His fingertips soothed the lotion into the scar tissue, rubbing in circles. Tommy gave off a little moan.
Michael took his time. He massaged Tommy’s back, then pulled his briefs down and off and worked his arms and legs. The scar tissue had been well cared for. It required daily massage to avoid getting painfully tight. Tommy’s mother or his PT routinely massaged him, but Michael’s massage was different. He kept it sensual rather than functional. He placed both hands on the backs of Tommy’s thighs and massaged firmly up to the cheeks of his ass, repeating the move a dozen times before massaging Tommy’s buttocks. They were only mildly scarred, and Tommy liked to have them handled.
“Wanna turn over,” Tommy said, in a rough voice.
“Go ahead, champ.” Michael removed his hands and let Tommy turn.
Tommy’s penis was mercifully undamaged, thanks to the way he’d protected his core by curling up into a ball. He was fully erect and red. Michael squeezed some lotion on it and stroked for just a minute before moving on to Tommy’s chest and the front of his arms and legs. He knew what Tommy liked, and Tommy liked to take it slow. He liked to make it last, like a favorite dessert he only got once a week. His moans of pleasure were loud, but there was no one to hear. Only Tommy’s mother was in the house on Monday mornings, and she stayed out of the way, tucked away downstairs in the kitchen.
Michael drew his fingertips lightly over Tommy’s belly, causing him to shiver and groan, before finally taking him in hand. Michael was erect too. He always got that way when working with clients. If Tommy had wanted to see or feel Michael, he would have been happy to oblige. But that had never been what Tommy wanted. Nor was this about relieving Tommy of sperm. His hands were damaged, but he could hold his cards and a pen, type on the computer—he could get himself off. No, what Tommy needed from Michael was human touch, loving touch, to feel that he was not alone, that he could have sexual contact with a cute guy his own age, someone who would not look at him with horror. That was a privilege his twenty-one-year-old peers took for granted, gay or straight.
Michael touched Tommy lightly until he indicated with a panted “Go” that he was ready to come. Then Michael stroked him firmly until he climaxed hard.
Michael cleaned Tommy up and pulled his briefs back on. He always wanted to sleep afterward, no talking, no fuss. So Michael leaned over and kissed his cheek, smiling.
“See ya next week, champ. I’ll remember to bring that Stephen King book I’ve been promising. And I swear I’m going to beat you at rummy one of these days, at least two out of three.”
Tommy laughed, opening his eyes only long enough for one last fond look. “In your dreams. Excellent work today, Maestro. Laters.”
“Laters.”
Mrs. Chelsey was waiting for Michael in the kitchen as usual. But this week, when he popped in his head, she looked up at him anxiously.
“Would you like a cup of tea? I made us a pot.”
She’d set the table in the kitchen with two cups and a china pot, like some sort of fancy B&B. Michael hesitated.
“Unless you have to be somewhere?” Mrs. Chelsey's worried tone said she shouldn’t have presumed.
Michael glanced at his watch. “No, I’m good. I’d love to try that tea.” He smiled and joined her at the table.
Mrs. Chelsey was an attractive brunette in her late forties, her body slender and her face drawn with perpetual worry. Still, she was always very pleasant to Michael.
“How did he seem to you today?” she asked as she poured the tea. “There’s cream and sugar.”
“Black is good, thanks. I got the impression he was a little down when I first got here. But he creamed me at three rounds of gin, and that cheered him up considerably.”
Mrs. Chelsey seemed relieved. “He’s been depressed lately. His friends are all graduating from college, getting married, moving on with their own lives… I’m worried about him.” She eyed Michael’s face with a searching gaze as if somehow he could provide the understanding she needed. “He’s always better on Mondays, though. I can’t tell you how much your visits mean to him.”
Michael was glad Mrs. Chelsey and Tommy were happy with him, but it was never easy for him to accept compliments. “Just doing my job.”
“You don’t have to play cards with him, though, hang out, and treat him like a friend. That means a lot.”
“Tommy is a friend. He’s a client but… I’m happy to call him a friend.”
Mrs. Chelsey smiled sadly. “My friends would never understand about you. I don’t even… not even Tommy’s father knows that I hired a sex surrogate.”
Michael wanted to argue with her, to say something like “It’s not a big deal”, or “It’s not that unusual.” Because he truly felt that way. But he knew other people—most people—saw sex surrogacy as a very big deal.
Michael loved being a sex surrogate. It felt entirely natural to him. He’d graduated from nursing school at twenty-one and did an internship with a VA hospital in Seattle. A few of the patients there were young, just recovering from injury or PTSD. One in particular, a sweet boy named Wayne, had lost a leg and was severely depressed. Michael was fairly certain Wayne was gay, and he was so devastated by his injury. Sometimes, Wayne would look at Michael, then look away. There was pure need in that look, a need so deep it ran red with blood. Michael had a strong urge to hold Wayne, to comfort him, to, yes, give him relief in any way that he could. Instinctively, he sensed that Wayne needed physical contact, needed someone to make him feel like a man, to remind him that being alive meant the possibility of great pleasure, not just pain.
Of course, as a young nurse, such a thing would have been entirely inappropriate. Michael had never acted on it, but it started him thinking. He researched online for types of therapy that involved touch. That’s when he discovered sex surrogacy. He fell in love with the idea literally at first sight. He applied to the IPSA, the International Professional Surrogates Association, and took their 100-hour course via mail part-time while he worked. A year later, he was licensed.
He believed so strongly that love and intimacy were key components of healing and mental health. But he’d learned that very few people were capable of understanding what he did.
So instead of arguing with Mrs. Chelsey, he just said, “Well… you’re a very cool mom. Tommy is lucky.”
Mrs. Chelsey laughed. “A cool mom would give her son a little weed, not sex. I’ve done the weed too, on occasion.”
Michael looked at her in surprise. He’d never smelled it in Tommy’s room.
“A few years ago when there was more pain,” she explained. “We got it prescribed. Thank God for the Medical Cannabis law. But Tommy doesn’t want it much anymore. Says it makes him fuzzy. Anyway, I just… I feel he’s missing so much in life. Anything I can give him, I will give him.”
She said this last fiercely. Michael’s heart ached for her. He reached over and stroked her hand. “Hey, Tommy is lucky to have you, to have this beautiful home, and to be so well-cared for. You’re doing a great job.”
She clutched desperately at the hand Michael offered and, with the other, took a casual sip of tea as if she hadn’t a care in the world. It reminded Michael of that saying about one hand not knowing what the other was doing.
“I just wish our lives weren’t about me taking care of Tommy. I wish he was out there being a normal twenty-one-year-old, having fun, even getting into a little bit of trouble.”
Michael wasn’t sure what got into him, but he stage-whispered, “Well, he did just have sex upstairs.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
She barked out a laugh. “You don’t say.”
“I have it on good authority.” Michael tried to release her hand, but she clung on. He let her.
Mrs. Chelsey looked down into her cup, took a couple of deep breaths. “It’s my fault, you see. His father and I were newly divorced, and I… I got a little crazy. That night, Tommy didn’t want to go to Samuel’s house. He wanted to stay home, play his video games, and chat with his pal in Norway. But I insisted he go. I had a date.”
Michael swallowed down a painful wave of empathy and rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand.
“I’ll never forgive myself for that.” She looked up at him, her eyes bright.
Michael got up and went over to Tommy’s mother. He hugged her, leaning down and holding her tight. She took the comfort, placing her arms around his back and tilting her face against his shoulder.
“It’s not your fault. A million other times that same scenario would have gone fine. Tommy would have come home the next morning like always. You couldn’t have known.”
She nodded, but she didn’t say anything. She hugged him back for a long moment, the tension of grief thick in her body, until at last, she relaxed. Michael’s mother had worked as an intensive care nurse for a while, and she always said her job was as much about helping the relatives deal with what was happening as it was about the actual patient care. Michael’s job wasn’t often like that, but now he understood what his mother meant. That fire had devastated Tommy’s mom as much as it had Tommy.
Mrs. Chelsey pulled back. “Thank you.”
“Any time. You know, you have needs too, not just Tommy.”
He said it sincerely, but when Mrs. Chelsey quirked an oh really eyebrow, he laughed. “Oh. Um… I didn’t mean those kinds of needs.”
“Good. Because, no offense, Michael, but that would be really weird.”
“Right.” Michael laughed, embarrassed. “Well, on that graceful note, I should probably get going. Thanks for the tea.”
Mrs. Chelsey stood up to show him out. He headed for the kitchen doorway and his gym bag.
“Oh! Just remembered. I saw something in Sunday’s newspaper, and I clipped it for you.” She took a newspaper page off the refrigerator and brought it over. “Tommy said you like science fiction?”
“Love it.”
“Well, maybe you already know about this, but when I saw it, I thought of you.”
It was an ad for “Science Fiction week” at Elliott Bay Book Company. “Excellent,” Michael said politely. His eyes scanned down the list of events and his heart stopped. “Oh, my God. No way!”
“What is it?”
“J.C. Guise? Seriously?”
Mrs. Chelsey shrugged, obviously not getting it.
“I don’t believe it! J.C. Guise is doing a book signing at Elliott Bay on Friday night. He’s like… my favorite author in the world, and he never does book signings. He’s a legendary recluse. He doesn’t go to conventions, he doesn’t do Twitter or Facebook, he’s a ghost. He has a one-page website that lists his books, and that’s it. I can’t believe this!”
“That does sound exciting.” Mrs. Chelsey looked pleased that her small offering had been so well received.
“Exciting?” Michael laughed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs. Chelsey, but right now? I freaking love you.”
******************
HEAVEN CAN'T WAIT:
In other news, my novella Heaven Can't Wait is now out with Dreamspinner. Check out some new reviews!
My “Desktop” blog post of inspirational images for “Heaven Can’t Wait”
5 stars Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews – “…tangible chemistry going on, a nice touch of slow burning sexual tension and a lovely, sweet romance building up throughout the book that all mixed together culminates into a very enjoyable and satisfying little supernatural love story.”
4.5 stars Boys in Our Books — “Heaven is a quick and easy read I recommend for, well, everybody. Pick it up ASAP, but be sure to put on your favoriteswingy, swishy dress for your Maria von Trapp solo dance.”
Review from Bloggergirls – “If you’re looking for something that’ll simultaneously touch you and make you smile, give this one a try because it definitely affected me! I loved it!”
Eli