Guest Post: Sheryl Collins (Under the Mistletoe–All I want for Christmas is Sex)

Sheryl Collins

Sheryl Collins

A present Texans at this moment.  A single mother of  a college student who has retired from her present place in the workforce pursing her long life dream. One of those dreams was to be a songwriter and author.  Sheryl had a long journey to finally Under the Mistole which includes from high school creative writing class to being honorable mention in  college creative magazine at the city state college. Sheryl has many short stories submission that did not make the cut for publishers on Wattpad.com. She also completed a YA book with some help and influence from her daughter which is now found on Wattapad.

“ Life influences me. Many people ask life? Every person I  meet can become a story and every experience can be a song. I have wrote lyrics to poetry since I was a little girl as a journal. It was therapy for my soul, a person ticket out of Texas to anywhere I wanted to go. My family influences me a tons. Great list of writers which maybe an endless list. I always felt that I could never be good enough for this stuff . I wrote and no one would understand me. I was a bunch of nonsense written on a page. If getting one book recognized by a great number or one song that can be heard on the radio, I know that it was not trash at all.” reply Sheryl.

Sheryl writes everywhere. That includes her car, at work in past, on vacation, fishing, in church etc. “You never know where a great story or song will hit you. I find myself sometime driving singing. I dreamed of singing in my sleep and waking up trying to remember.” laughs Sheryl.

Sheryl next project is finishing up one or a few children songs for a EP. She might also do a pop or blues EP. Sheryl next book at the moment is for her children EP called “ Clueless Sucks.“ A song she is working on for a merch. “My previous work with some help from my daughter being a teen, did not get the passion I wished to see from YA crowd. Did I expect a publisher yes but I will not say millions. I wanted to draw young people and artists to writing in story and music.” she add.

“ I am a jumper. I never know will I sit one a side and start doing another project. Who I might pick up? While I was working on Love Story EP and fabric design, I was trying to create a beat than a song came out.  I found myself back at a project for middle readers for children story that encourage music. Erotic writing at this moment I don’t know since I put down my patterns and sewing thing for gowns. The big break for an short story or stories did not happen. I have a goal to at least have a thousands of fans around the world who enjoy my creativity.”

Guest Post: Maria Duendí (Under the Mistletoe–Hush)

pic4

I hate New York City. I have lived here for nearly eight years and I have never gotten into the cutesy “love/hate” stage most people do after a while. I hate it. I hate the smell (in the words of Han Solo, “What an incredible smell you’ve discovered!” Every day. Many times a day). I hate the lines of people that could rival Soviet Russia’s (sometimes I stand in a line just so I don’t possibly miss something.). I went to a Wegman’s in Pennsylvania, near Penn State, and I forgot to get something before I got in line. “Take your time, honey,” the cashier said. Take. Your. Time.

What I especially hate about New York, however, is the noise. Right now, there is construction being done on a new luxury building on our block (thanks, gentrification!), and we are being assailed with beeps, grinding, knocking, yelling. At night, the cement mixer sounds like it’s fucking. More power to you, man

 

pic3

One evening, my husband and I came home close to midnight. I stepped out of the car, and I felt the ambient noise vibrate through my body. There was a whooshing sound—-the sound of cars getting off and on the FDR drive. There was a general growl from the electricity running in so many homes. Panic hit me at the back of my throat. “It’s never going to stop, is it?” I asked my husband. Day and night, the machine ground on.

01guadalupemountains01

My husband is a city boy, so of course he told me I was exaggerating. “Everywhere is like this,” he said. But I remembered sleeping out in the desert when I was 20 years old, nothing but clear, dark, sapphire sky, the sound of the wind brushing the trees like a thin film over it. Even in a more populated area like State College, most people’s concerns are not about how kinky the construction equipment gets. There are escapes out there—-soothing oases to clear your head, to change your mind.

“Hush” stemmed from my fear of noise going on in perpetuity—-the grinding, growling, crackling noise of the city amplified by a mysterious force. The residents of the city in the story have no escape—-they’ve been hemmed into the city and they have a curfew. The only conduit to escape is a boy who really, really likes a girl, and we can’t (and wouldn’t!) blame the girl for accepting his invitation.

.

pic2

 “Where are we going?” I asked, when it was quiet enough for him to hear my words. I added, “Do you know?”

He turned to me, shocked and amused, as if he had been alone and he had only been driving with his beer and my thighs holding it. “Yeah,” he said. “I know a place.” It was the first time I had heard his voice—deep and gravelly.

“Why aren’t you already there, then?”

A foolish grin came across his face. “Uh, travel ban?”

I laughed. “You broke that without thinking. How did you—”

“You wanted to go, right? Away from the Noise?”

I breathed in. The Noise lingered, but I could feel relief from it through the cold window. The man opened the window and there was an admirable silence. I breathed it in and out and my tongue was no longer unhinged. I let out a big whoop—a blade of sound piercing a soap bubble. The man chuckled to himself—at the twinkling of quiet stars, at me.

We stopped just a few blocks down from a stoplight—quiet blocks with shabbily genteel shrubs in front, a porch swing here or there. We approached the most run down of them. The wood of the porch had not been repainted in a long time—patches of brown and wincing tan peeked through the gray. There was a porch that was low to the ground and a balustrade wrapped around it.

The man reached over me to open my door to the car. I inhaled his clean scent, his body hovering me warm compared to the cold outside.

“Why me?” I asked, in his shadow.

He opened the door and removed the bottle from between my thighs, his eyes suddenly looking into mine. “Because you said yes.”

 

About Maria Duendi:

Maria Duendi resides in the New York City. She enjoys an almost obscene obsession with perfume and an addiction to Star Trek: Deep Space 9. This is her first publication.

under-the-mistletoe

My first experience as the editor of an anthology

typewriter

Part of why I went radio silent for so long was that I was genuinely overwhelmed this fall. I hadn’t originally planned on being so busy, but between campaigning for Hillary Clinton by phone banking fellow Democrats in Asia, helping my daughter study for exams that counted for 50% of her grade for the year (the second grader, for the record—thanks, Singapore public schools), and editing I was buried in work for about ten weeks straight.

As a first-time editor with a firm deadline in mind, I felt like I was trying to harness lightning in a bottle. Back in September, I posted that I was reading the entries and that I’d stumbled upon an embarrassment of riches. After sorting through all the entries, I came up with the final list of acceptances that alternated poems and stories. This meant I also came up with a list of “no’s.” I can honestly say that doing the rejecting sucks, although not quite as hard as being rejected.

I set nine deadlines with a week of buffer space in case something came up–and my daughters’ joint birthday party took up all of my time for several days, so I ended up pushing things back a few days–within that margin of error. They were

  • Contracts Out
  • Contracts In
  • Edits Out
  • Editing Period
  • Edits In
  • Compile Book Into 1 Document
  • Book to Authors for Typo Review
  • Book back from Authors
  • Book to Publisher

I had three giant charts on my wall. One was the bullets above with the deadlines. The second was for my poets and the third was for my prose authors. Each title had a horizontal line with boxes for contract in, editing, final edit, typo review. This allowed me to see who was in what phase of the process.

Over the course of those nine deadlines several unplanned things happened. People didn’t return their contracts, a “sweet romance” story was pulled by the author–I think because she second guessed having her story featured in an erotica anthology–leaving a gaping hole in my anthology at the last minute, and so on. That put me in an awkward position as it was late enough that I couldn’t pull up a rejected story and start the editing process from scratch–or write something brand new myself at that point–so I ended up recycling one of my older stories, “Baby It’s Hot Outside,” a version of which was in Summer Loving. I’m still a bit uncomfortable with that solution, but without it we wouldn’t have hit the 50k word minimum to get a print run.

Every editor has their own style. Depending on the author and the story, the amount of communication and revision varied from one/two emails to many. I wanted to ensure that the authors retained as much creative control as possible, as that has been my preference as a writer. I’m certain that my authors’ opinion of whether I achieved that goal will vary, much as my experience has varied over the years.

Will I do another anthology? Maybe. Not immediately. The process was exhausting.

I have a few anthologies I want to submit to as an author. I need to focus on writing the next draft of Plunder. And my daughters, who know I write books but that they’re not old enough to read them have asked me to write them books. So my plate is pretty full.

Perhaps after submitting Plunder.

In the meantime, you can pre-order the digital version of Under the Mistletoe and the paperback edition is already on sale at Amazon!

under-the-mistletoe

This charity anthology will benefit Project Linus, which provides hand-made blankets to children in crisis.

Save

Save

Under the Mistletoe is available for pre-order and a sneak peek at “Kid Comet”

under-the-mistletoe

Great news! You can pre-order Under the Mistletoe at the following shops!

Santas reindeerI have something of an annual tradition–writing one of my North Pole Series short stories.

It all began with a story called New on the Naughty List, about Lucy the Elf who investigates if Matthew is Naughty or merely a Nice guy on the wrong list. (read it for free here) By the end of writing that story, though, I was in love with sarcastic, nerdy Blitzen the Reindeer. Last year I wrote A Reindeer by Any Other Name, which tells the story of who what Blitzen was doing during the events of Lucy’s story. (read it for free here) Each story works as a stand-alone story as well as part of the larger on-going series.

I knew I wanted to write another story in this universe for Under the Mistletoe, and the result is my new f/f story, Kid Comet, set one year after A Reindeer by Any Other Name.  (Disclaimer—Kid Comet is a comic book reference–there are no underage characters)

Claudia was drafted to cover Comet’s emergency maternity leave with only twenty-three days instead of months to prepare. When she visits New York to get a crash course, she falls head over hooves for Jillian, the elf in charge of the region.

If you’re a fan of the reindeer, you’ll want to read the next chapter. (Blitzen fans–he makes a cameo.)

Here’s a sneak peek.

I took notes on a tablet as Jillian’s staff ran me through the buildings we were scheduled to visit throughout the region and where I should land the sleigh. I fiddled with my stylus, sneaking glances at Jillian, who sat opposite me. I hoped no one noticed my nipples pointing directly at the object of my desire.

The afternoon was spent on regional geography. Meteorologists walked me through typical weather patterns and the biggest outliers. My notes grew frantic, my handwriting deteriorating.

I can’t do this.

Memorize every building in the territory, every flight pattern through it, the name of every elf in it? Plan a path through the region? Pull the sled? Put up with being called Kid Comet? That I could do.

Make decisions in the air where the entire team and Santa would defer to me? The room was going in and out of focus. My pulse thundered in my ears.

“Sorry all,” Jillian interrupted the meeting. Her voice sounded far away. “I’ve got an urgent incoming call for Comet. Clear the room!” A second later, paper pushed against my lips. “Claudia, breathe into this! You’re going to be okay. Breathe in. Hold it. Now out.”

She breathed in and out with me until I was no longer gasping for air.

“Tell me what happened.”

I shook my head. “All I’ve ever wanted was to join the team, but I can’t do this. Not with less than a month to prepare. I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” she took my face between her hands. Her eyes glowed with intensity.

“What if I make the wrong call?” I whispered.

“Then you’ll figure it out. The team will help you. You’ll be yoked next to Blitzen in part because this is his home territory. He’s abrasive, he can be a jerk, but he won’t let you fail. No one else will, either. The nine of you are a team, Claudia. They’ll trust you, they’ll let you take charge, but they won’t let you send them into the ocean or approach a snowstorm the wrong way. I promise.”

Jillian stood, and returned with cold water. I gulped it gladly.

“I’m canceling the rest of the day. Rest, then we’ll go to the show.”

I nodded. I retreated to my bedroom, where I buried my face in my hands in shame.

What kind of reindeer has panic attacks?

“She won’t let me fail,” I whispered to the room over and over.

I have FIVE copies of the anthology to give away in exchange for an honest review. Please email me at delilahnight at gmail dot com or leave a comment on this post if you are interested.

Guest Post: Ashe Barker and her new book

Hello lovely readers. I’m so sorry I haven’t been posting–I’ve been editing all the amazing stories and poems you’ll read in Under the Mistletoe. Today I’m thrilled to have Ashe Barker, a fellow Totally Bound author and contributor of a sizzling hot story in Under the Mistletoe, guest posting about her new release, Resurrection.

 

SONY DSC

Hello, and thank you so much for inviting me over to talk a little bit about my latest paranormal/time travel erotic romance, Resurrection.

I have always loved time travel romances, and in particular I’m intrigued by the stories where a character comes forward in time. As a writer it’s a dream to imagine all the wondrous and terrifying things they would encounter and to weave those into some sexy and occasionally hilarious scenes. Resurrection has a lot of that. Imagine for example a fifteenth century noblewoman let loose in a twenty first century shopping mall. Or her first encounter with a fast car. Or modern plumbing. Throw in a sexy vampire Dom and my joy is complete.

I am often asked about the inspiration which sparks an idea for a story. No spoilers here, but readers will be aware of the amazing event which took place in the current century and which stripped away five hundred years of accepted wisdom about one of our most infamous historical characters. Richard III was vilified by the Tudors, most ably abetted by one William Shakespeare. In Resurrection Richard is a relatively minor character but still manages to hold his own as a towering figure who influences much of what happens, and makes an amazing reappearance at the end of the story.

Resurrection is both contemporary and historical, paranormal and an erotic romance with the BDSM themes I love to write. I hope readers enjoy this mix of genres as much as I enjoyed writing it.

 

resurrection-cover

The past is only a heartbeat away

Right from the start she knew it wasn’t about love.

As the youngest daughter of a wealthy family in medieval England, Lady Jane of Acton has been betrothed to Gerard Twyfford, the son of the Earl of Roseworth, since she was a baby. A dynastic marriage such as theirs is about power and property, not love but even so Jane desperately yearns for her husband’s approval. But Gerard’s rare visits to her bed are for the sole purpose of producing an heir, and she’s even failed at that. How can Jane win Gerard over when she cannot even be the wife he needs her to be?

Would one last chance be enough? Could he make things right, even now?

Ged Twyfford doesn’t know what he’s missing in life. A powerful vampire, he’s lived for close to six hundred years and seen a lot during his time but his past still haunts him. On a whim, he purchases Roseworth castle, the keep he used to rule as lord. Mostly in ruins now, Roseworth is a shell of what it was when he was still a mortal but Ged is determined to make it his home again. Maybe this is what he’s been missing, maybe he needs a place to belong at last.

When a woman emerges from the lake beside his castle, looking and sounding a lot like the wife he lost over five centuries ago, Ged assumes she’s a witch out to dupe him. But what if she is who she claims to be? Ged finally realizes just what he had, and just how precious to him was the wife he betrayed all those hundreds of years ago.

Do they really have a second chance or is it just too late to start over?

And of course a sensuous and hot excerpt…

 

“So, are you ready to lay yourself across my lap, Jane?”

“Will you hurt me?”

“Of course, though not so much that you won’t be able to stand it.”

“What if I want you to stop?”

“This is a punishment spanking so it’s over when I say it is. If you start to feel overwhelmed and want me to pause for a moment though, you need only ask.”

“And, after…?”

“And after, I shall hold you until you stop crying, and I’m sure that all’s well between us. Then I shall fuck you. You should be aware, Jane, I intend to make a better job of it this time.”

He was pleased to see a delightful flush creep across her cheeks. Time to pinken her buttocks to match.

“Jane?” He patted his lap.

She stepped to the side then leaned across him, lowering herself into position.

“Further forward, if you please. Lift up your bottom for me.”

Jane obliged him, pushing herself up onto her toes to present her beautiful heart-shaped arse. Ged admired the pretty curves, leaning to his right to catch a peek at her pussy lips just visible between her thighs. He contemplated asking her to spread her legs to afford him a better view, but decided against it. He had plenty of time and would explore her sweet little cunt soon enough. For now he opted to concentrate on the spanking. It was no hardship, he couldn’t recall an occasion when he had ever anticipated administering a punishment with quite so much relish.

Jane jerked hard when he laid his palm on her upturned buttock. He caressed her skin, felt the muscles tighten beneath his hand as she clenched in anticipation. He circled her soft cheeks with his palm, first one, then the other, saying nothing. He continued to caress her until she softened, her body relaxing, ready for him.

The first slap was soft, but still she gasped. He stroked the sensation away, then dropped another spank onto her sensitive behind, harder this time. She let out another soft sigh, but didn’t shift her position. He continued to slap her soft cheeks, peppering her behind with spanks which became harder, sharper, more intense. Soon she was wriggling on his lap, rubbing hard against his erection. She could have no doubt of his arousal, and he was acutely aware of hers.

As he ramped up the punishment her pussy lips glistened, then moisture started to trickle. She dampened his jeans, though he would swear she was unaware of her physical response. Her head though, that was another matter entirely. He rifled her thoughts shamelessly, and knew the moment, even before her body went limp, draped across his thighs in absolute surrender, that he had her. She was his, to do with as he pleased.

 

Buy Links       

Amazon

All Romance

 

Read Chapter One for free

 

About Ashe Barker

USA Today Bestselling author Ashe Barker writes erotic romance and spanking romance in a variety of genres including contemporary, BDSM, paranormal, historical. ménage, gay romance and time travel. She is a #1 Amazon Bestseller and all her stories feature hot alpha males and sassy submissives, often with a lot to learn. Kink abounds, and there’s enough dirty talk to satisfy the most demanding smut lover. However dark and dirty the setting, love always emerges triumphant, and her stories never fail to deliver a satisfying happy ever after.

 

Social Media Links and Newsletter sign-up

 Newsletter Sign-Up

www.ashebarker.com

Amazon

google.com/+AsheBarker

Facebook

Twitter  

Instagram

I’m reading your entries

Whenever I submit to an anthology, I look at the response email with pretty much this look before clicking open to read it…

finding doryDid you like my story? Please say yes.

As the tables have turned, I thought it might be interesting to be transparent about my first experience as an editor.

I posted the call in late June, and I was shocked at how fast entries started to appear in my inbox. I made a point of replying to each email to let them know I’d received their entry, or to clarify my submission guidelines. There was a lull, and then in August there was another wave (that unfortunately coincided with an unplanned move) and today I found three emails where I’d received the entry but never responded. I feel like an ass and I’m sorry, three people who know who you are.

A few of you wrote and asked if I’d automatically reject something that arrived at 12:01am on Sept 1

I always wonder about this, too, and I’m almost always a last minute entry. Just ask any of my editors.

The answer I gave them–and now all of you–is that due to living in Asia, I’m 12 hours ahead of the East Coast of the US and 15 ahead of the West Coast, etc. September 1st was the day we celebrated Teacher’s Day at my daughter’s schools and they were both home on Friday September 2nd. As I told the people who asked–I wasn’t really watching the clock. This is also a charity anthology, so while other editors have their own rules, for a variety of reasons no, I wasn’t watching the clock.

How many submissions did I get?

Nearly thirty, and no, I wasn’t prepared for that. I don’t know if it’s just my own insecurities, but I was worried that I wouldn’t get enough submissions to make a full anthology. But an embarrassment of riches cuts both ways. Yes, I would make a full anthology. The downside is that I will end up rejecting stories that I love.

Have you read everything yet?

No. I’m trying. Professionally–I also have a story I need to edit, two to write, and some other commitments. Personally–I have two young children who have been on vacation for a week and don’t get back to school until Tuesday. (Send chocolate and earplugs.)

What are your top pet peeves from this process (thus far)

1–Not reading the call. (sending me file types I can’t open, sending working the body of your email)

2–Not putting your name on  your work.  I had multiple stories and poems with a title and no author’s name. Put your name on your work (this actually ties for #1 pet peeve)

3–Not adhering to the specified formatting. (I have sympathy because formatting was something I fucked up for years, and have only really figured out recently. I remember Lynn Townsend asking me to do something formatting related and my reaction was ??? That said, being on the receiving end makes it frustrating because now I have to reformat work).

When will I hear from you?

By October 1. As early as I can manage. I’m not blogging etc because I’m trying to prioritize reading.

Does a yes mean I’m done?

No, there will be edits. I find typos is Nora Roberts books. Mostly it will very little, as the competition is stiff (pun intended, sort of).

Does a no mean that my story/poem was bad?

Some stories are by authors who are still rough diamonds. Others are incredibly written but I can’t have five stories with the same theme. A rejection isn’t actually personal, although having received many I can say it still sucks. I’m sorry, Baby Dory with the giant eyes.

Save

Review: Evergreen and Poinsettias by Kassandra Lea

Evergreen and Poinsettias

Submissions for my anthology close today, and I unintentionally set myself up with a short and sweet Christmas story to get me off on the right foot when planning my reviewing calendar.

If you’re looking for a sweet, short Christmas romance, this is a good choice. Brylee slips and falls one day, and finds herself staring into the eyes of the most handsome man she’s ever met. Will their chance meeting end with a simple thank-you wreath from her flower shop, or is it the start of something more?

I found myself identifying with both Brylee and her sister. Brylee is shy and a bit lonely. Her sister keeps assuring her that true love exists, reminding her of how quickly she went from meeting to wedding her husband. I spent many years kissing frogs, but like Brylee’s sister I went from meeting to marriage in an extremely short period of time (and have been married, happily, for a decade).

Lea reminds us that love may find you in the most unexpected of places.

Brylee Mariotte is hoping to get a boyfriend for Christmas, and when she meets Liam Casey, it looks like she might just get her wish.

It’s the magical holiday season again and, like everyone else, flower shop owner Brylee Mariotte can’t help but get swept up in it. Of course, the phrase ‘happiest time of the year’ only makes her loneliness worse. As she watches the happy couples, she starts wishing and hoping for Santa to bring her a man to call her own, and not just for the holidays. She wants the real deal—someone for the long haul.

When the dashingly handsome Liam Casey offers her a helping hand, Brylee begins to think that miracles might just exist. The bookstore owner’s touch lights a fire deep inside her, one she thought would never get burning. But what if Liam isn’t as into her? Or, even worse, what if he’s already married?

With a little touch of evergreen and a whole lot of Christmas magic, Brylee may just get her man.

Evergreen and Poinsettias can be found at your favorite e-book retailer, including amazon.

 

Review: Hunt Her by Elle Q Sabine

Hunt Her

When I decided to read Hunt Her, I expected I was settling in for a Vampire book. Which I was. Sort of. Sabine blends Vampire lore, Irish tales of the Sidhe (familiar to most fantasy readers as fairies), and even some Angelic mythology, throws it in a blender and comes up with something entirely new. To put the cherry on the sundae, the “vamps” are actually human women necessary for a vampire’s survival, and his very sanity.

I think this is one of the book’s biggest strengths. As someone who has been reading fantasy for three decades, I am in love with the story of the Sabine’s vampires and how what I think I know about many different groups is both right and wrong. However, as someone who has been reading fantasy for three decades, I often had to stop, force myself to step away from every assumption I have about words like “vampire” and “sidhe’ and let her do her world building. That isn’t a weakness in Sabine, but if you are also a long-time fantasy reader, you need to be open to letting Sabine change up the tropes.

I liked the relationship dynamic between Valor and Meghan. They have a dynamic that allows for Valor’s alpha personality, and Sabine ensures that Meghan is no pushover either. Meghan has a mysterious backstory that unfolds in tandem to her search for her brother and her relationship with Valor. She isn’t going to let Valor’s arrival derail her search.

This is the first in a series, so we have many more books to come to help continue to flesh out her world. I hope the second book deals at least in part with an ending plot point of Valor’s general finding his vamp and her wanting nothing to do with him. I want to see more of them.

Her life on hold for a decade, Meghan’s ready to take it back and move forward. Valor is ready too. The Vampire Master won’t let her disappear, not ever again. Meghan doesn’t understand the dreamwalker who comes to her at night. After years of sleeping medication to subdue nightmares, she is unprepared when the handsome stranger who stood guard over her childhood returns to her dreams. Now that she’s grown, he’s intent on possession and seduction. When he shows up in her life, real and not a dream, she’s horrified . . . and enthralled. But life isn’t waiting around for Meghan to play out the traditional script of meeting, falling in love and living happily ever after. Desperate to reclaim some part of her childhood, Meghan leaves behind the man who wants her in search of her long-lost brother. But Valor is not a man who is willing to be left behind, not again. The years he spent unable to find Meghan-not knowing if she was happy, healthy or even safe-were difficult enough. He’ll find Meghan and bring her into a world she doesn’t even imagine exists, and he’ll find a way to keep her at his side-forever. Because he’s not just some man Meghan met in a library. Valor isn’t a man at all.

Hunt Her is available as an e-book and paperback everywhere, including Amazon.

An Interview with Avylinn Winters

avylinn

Hi Avy! Tell us a little about you.

Hi there! Well, for starters, I’m a Swedish blonde, happy to prove the prejudices incorrect but also just as pleased with saying that I’m all for having fun. I write M/M novels in my free time, and spend the rest of my time either at the office, cuddling with my cat (who can impersonate a ghost), or hanging out with my partner. I’m not yet 30, but if you happen to stumble upon this post sometime in 2017, then that’s a lie.

I also spend a lot of time as a hobby psychologist and give myself various diagnosis. It’s all in good fun though, but my novels tend to include a little bit of psychology. I enjoy the occasional glass of wine, I have a sweet tooth, and a bad memory which is a nuisance.

What was your journey from aspiring writer to published author?

I began as a reader. My partner bought me an e-reader for Christmas, and that’s the moment when this wheel started spinning. I read a lot. A lot. So, slowly I began to explore what the internet had to offer in terms of content. I stumbled upon a site called Booksie, where writers shared their works for free, and still do. I began reading there (now this makes me sound like a cheap, which is true as I was a student at the time with next to no funds), but all of a sudden the threshold to start writing my own stuff wasn’t that daunting. I could simply write something and press publish. No fuss. So, that’s what I did. I began to write online, and when Booksie felt cramped, I moved on to Wattpad.

Wattpad opened up a world of possibilities, and two years after starting on the site, I felt that I had achieved something that I wanted to introduce to the rest of the world. For the first time ever, I felt confident. So, I sent out the manuscript to an agent. Right, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. I aimed high. Very high. When this agent finally got back to me (note that I only sent to one agent which is weird in itself), she was super nice and positive although she wished to see another story rather than this one. So, rejected, but with grace. I moved on to contact a publisher directly, one that a friend of mine had told me about a while back. This was Pride Publishing, and lo and behold, I sent them the manuscript, they gobbled it up, and here I am. What happens from now on is not set in stone, but that’s the fun of it all.

Who has influenced you?

I might go a bit off road here, but I feel like sharing this for some unknown reason. Influences come from everywhere and everyone, but a few individuals have left more of a mark. My sister is my hero, definitely, and so is my partner. But then, I’ve also been influenced by a selected few who have left me in one way or another. One was a young gay M/M writer who had to give up on the world he’d created online because of his family. They gave him an ultimatum, and he chose them. His entire story made a huge impact. He was a part of a closed religious society, quite an unwilling member actually, but he ended up showing me how strong the urge to fit in can be, and how difficult it is to sacrifice the world you know and the people you love. He also inspired me to continue since some members of the LGBT youth need us to speak up for them when they aren’t free to do so.

I also lost one of my best friends last summer to cancer. I was too young to remember much of my grandparents, and in general, we’ve been spared a lot of heartache in our family. So, when Jay died, it struck me hard. I wrote stories for him, with him and to him. Now when he’s gone, he’s still with me, pushing me forward and not allowing me to give up, just as he did then.

Leia

Where do you usually write, and what’s your ideal writing space?

I write at home in my sofa, preferably with the cat in my lap (as long as she doesn’t get in the way). I do like sitting in a large room with lots of people around me, but only if they’re reasonably quiet. I’m easily distracted so quiet is the best. I don’t even listen to music most of the time unless I need it to reach a certain emotional state.

Tell us about your book (On sale today!)

My first published novel is called Volatile and tells the story of a young, slightly depressed, very lost guy who gets a rather remarkable opportunity to travel around Europe. The tale focuses on his rocky relationship with a volatile violinist. It’s angsty, it’s cheesy, and it’s meant to tug at your heart a bit. Without giving too much away, I give you the blurb:

volatile_9781786514547_800 (1)

Like a depressed moth drawn to a wild flame, Chris hoped that flame would brighten his life, not burn him alive.

Chris Sinclair fades into a gray world after losing his mother to cancer. When forced to attend a concert, as a last attempt to coax him out of his shell, he discovers that life might not be as bleak as he first thought.

Dante Heron holds the audience between the tips of his fingers and the delicate bow, playing the violin as if every heart is his to command. However, something darker brews behind the façade, and Chris is determined to solve the enigma.

When Chris is offered the job of traveling around Europe with the famous violinist, he surprises himself by accepting. With no idea of what awaits him, he’s thrown into a world where emotions rule and rules are bent.

They’re a perfectly dysfunctional match, but then there’s always calm at the heart of the storm.

One, two, three, four.

I wasn’t prepared when the first note struck. Not at all. Waves of sound rolled against the walls, flowing into every crevice then surging back. The tiny hairs on my arms stood in a silent salute, reaching for the hum in the air. I gripped the armrests on both sides of me, but it didn’t help. I was floating in a restless sea, weightless and lost.

Closing my eyes, I fought the current of emotions that tried to break free, but it was a hopeless battle. I shivered as the tones from the string orchestra reached for my core and swept me away. Ten seconds, and I was struggling to breathe. It was too much.

In the late afternoon sun, one full year ago, my last words to Mom’s coffin hadn’t brought out a single tear, but here beneath the glow of a solitary light, my eyes burned.

I wanted to leave. All the pent-up sorrow after Mom’s last months alive seemed to pour out of my heart, latching on to the beautiful lament produced by the violins and cellos. It felt as if I were fighting against a tidal wave of sounds and emotions. It was powerful and haunting, like ghosts whispering past the veil between life and death. No wonder my skin flared alive with apprehension.

As the concert continued, I was torn between the urge to leave and the wish to stay and lose myself in the storm of sounds. It was a useless, exhausting battle, and it didn’t cease until the music faded into a quiet breeze. The lights focused on one individual among all the tuxedos. Someone who stood out in the crowd. I saw it as his fingers danced across the slender neck of the violin—I saw it in his wild eyes and unruly hair. The tresses were black as ink, slightly too long and drenched with sweat. He didn’t belong. He wasn’t one of them.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him no matter how hard I tried. He had me under his spell as his solo caught my soul and kept it hostage. I felt ridiculous, more so than the conductor who waved his arms in the air as if he was fighting an invisible monster. Perhaps this concert was a monster. It seemed cunning and brutal, masking itself behind treacherous melodies and rhythms.

It was time to go before I lost control.

Buy links

Amazon

Pride Publishing

Apple iBooks

Kobo

 

What’s your next writing project(s)?

I’m currently working on the sequel to Volatile. It’s a very different story, both in tone and content, but with characters that are introduced in Volatile. Where Volatile is sweet, Toxic is vile. It’s intended to unsettle. Toxic centers around domestic violence, and it’s meant to highlight that same-sex couples aren’t spared from this plague. It’s a serious theme, and it has been very difficult to both write and edit. The only thing that drives me forward at this point is the knowledge that stories like this, although unpleasant, are important.

 

Social media links

Facebook

Twitter

My Plunder Playlist

**Disclaimer–Yes, I’m a total romantic version of pirates fan. It was probably inevitable that I’d write a pirate novel. I’m going to mention the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. If you haven’t seen them, see Curse of the Black Pearl and skip the rest unless you absolutely feel the need. I will say, though, that Mick Jagger as Jack Sparrow’s father was an inspired bit of casting.**

Music is as instrumental to me as breathing (pun intended). So when I’m writing, I usually have a playlist going in the background, and not just to block out Sofia the First or Teen Titans Go. When I wrote the short story version of Plunder, I didn’t have a song or a playlist in mind. However, when it came time to write the novel, I decided one was necessary.

I was wasting time on Youtube, as one does, when my recommendations came up with this…

 

I had no idea that my life was missing this, but it was. I then spent several hours watching Peter Hollens videos.He has an amazing catalog, including any number of gorgeous duets with his equally talented wife Evynne.

Not only was the Pirates medley awesome, but it made something click for me about Plunder.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold.

–My Jolly Sailor

The thing about Plunder is that both Bree and William are sailors, and they’re both crazy in love, despite their constant banter/fighting. So the lyric work both ways…Bree about William, William about Bree.

I immediately bought the song, and it is the cornerstone of my playlist. Because they did such a great job, I went over to the Pirate of the Caribbean soundtracks. I have the entire Curse of the Black Pearl soundtrack, and from the World’s End soundtrack I added “Drink Up Me Hearties Yo Ho” and “Hoist the Colours.”

Interestingly enough, My Jolly Sailor Bold isn’t on the soundtrack of Stranger Tides, despite it being the song the mermaids sing to enchant sailors so they can turn vampire, drag them into the water and eat them. However, you can find countless covers on YouTube.

 

Disney, however, didn’t write this song. It seems to be based off an 18th or 19th century shanty, depending on which version of My Jolly Sailor Bold you believe to be the origin song. To read more, go here.

So, my playlist (all of which can be bought on Amazon or iTunes, depending on your preference) is The Peter Hollens Pirates Medley, Hoist the Colours, Drink Up Me Hearties Yo Ho, and the full Curse of the Black Pearl soundtrack.

Happy Pirating! I should be finishing my edited version in the next few days and sending it off to betas. Once that happens, my playlist will look a lot more like this…

Sidenote–Check out Todrick Hall’s videos, too. He’s so incredibly talented.