Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Just the recent news... and an excerpt from Killian

So some of you know by now that I got laid off a few weeks ago.  It's been a scramble since.  Had a couple nice things happen, some of which I've posted about on Facebook, and one or two I haven't.  Had some not so nice things happen *glares out side at the snow and at the car* such as winter arrived all at once, and the car's starter decided to go out, along with the power steering pump issues I was already having...Why can't cars misbehave when you have the money to fix them?  I do still have a chance to transfer within my company, provided I can move, but they do not help with relocation costs, not even at management level. I am running out of time fast though, so I've been trying to raise money through a fund raiser site.  I'll post the link, so if you'd like to help, it will be easy for you to find.  Any help will be greatly appreciated...

In more exciting news, A Not-So-Straight Christmas is due out for re-release on Dec 19th, from Fireborn Publishing; Liam and Jareth's stories, Absentminded Astrophysicist and Loving the Astrophysicist will be out around the same time I believe, from Dreamspinner Press, in a single tome, we're still finalizing the title.  I'll let everybody know what it is as soon as I'm sure. :D  Whispers from a Hidden World: Killian should also be out very soon, but I don't have a release date yet.

For those wanting a taste of Killian, here's a short excerpt:

He stumbled down the stairs. "My Lady?" he called. From down the hall, Killian stepped out, a concerned look on his face.
"What's the matter?"
Shiloh grabbed Killian's arm, careful out of habit not to touch skin. "Please, you must understand something important, my Lady.”
"Come sit in the study and talk to me then,” Killian said, leading him to the study. "What's the matter?" he asked when he got Shiloh seated.
"I'm a very strong touch-sensitive, my Lady.” Killian nodded. That ability was almost universally common among Rimalians, in varying degrees. "I usually avoid touching anyone, I just don't want to know what they're thinking or feeling.” Again, Killian nodded, that too, was normal. A psionic society learned early, ways to observe each other's privacy. "I've touched Anan a couple of times, a few times by accident, once deliberately. Sometimes I pick up things I don't realize at the time, it's like my mind just files it away, unless something triggers the memory. I just remembered why you seemed familiar, when we've never met. I've seen your face in Anan's memories. She hates you, my Lady. You have to watch yourself with her. I'm just a means to an end, no importance, but she absolutely despises you.”
"Number one, Shiloh, you are important. Don't ever let anyone make you feel any different. Do you understand me?" Killian waited until Shiloh nodded, a little dazedly. "Second, I know Anan hates me, as much as I've hated her.” He sighed, apparently thinking. "Have you seen Anan's scars?"
"She was given fifty lashes, and fined reparations of seventy-five percent of her inheritance, for attempted rape.” Killian was quiet for a moment. "Of me.”

Shiloh sat there, stunned. And his mother had arranged for him to marry such a woman?!

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Depression, life, and working...don't always work well together....

So, I've struggled with whether or not to post this, for many reasons.  Some are mentioned within the post...others are more...nebulous. And things are better now than when I wrote it just a few short weeks ago.  I think it comes down to sometimes things aren't understood unless somebody says something...and i'm beginning to suspect I've been too silent too often in some areas.

So it's here, unedited, just as I wrote it, a little out of date for some things, but still...and if it helps you realize you're not alone, and you're not crazy and it's not in your head and you can't just "get over it," then good.

So I’ve been thinking about saying anything the past few weeks, on one hand, maybe it would help someone understand what people like me cope with, maybe remind someone like me that they aren't alone.  On the other hand, is going to just look like some drama queen wants attention?
I don’t have a bad life really.  I have beautiful child who if she has a few mental issues, they aren't the worst a parent would ever have to cope with.  Physically, she’s healthier than a horse.  She’s a good kid.   Recently she scared me when she didn't answer the phone when I called from work to check on her.  I asked a friend to go check on her and what was she doing?  She had the Wizard of Oz turned up so loud she couldn't hear the phone ringing.  Not many parents of 16 yr olds can say that.
I have a full time job.  The benefits suck, the hours suck, and the travel to and from my job sucks.  But it pays the outrageous rent, it keeps the lights on, puts gas in the car, buys food(not the most nutritious, but you eat what you can afford each payday, right?) It stable hours, and I can usually count on three or four days off every week.  Those twelve hour shifts have their uses, yeah?  Sometimes it even buys a few extras, like a trip to Devil’s Tower, or some DVDs or books.  It’s still payday to payday, but it’s not as thin as we’ve survived in the past.  Ramen noodle months are only a couple times a year.  It’s more than many have, and while the politics are making me more insane than normal, I’m still loathe to give up the stability and time off.  If I can make it to GRL, as I hope to in October, I don’t even have to worry about having to fight for the time off, I can just ask, and it’s mine.  Not many can say that, yeah?
I have my writing that I’m trying to build into a career.  Something that I can depend on not only to help me retain what’s left of  my sanity, but maybe someday will mean I never have a ramen noodle month  ever again.  Something that will mean I can spoil my kid with all the neat stuff out there, instead of wondering how the hell I’m going to buy at least three more pairs of jeans for her, so she doesn’t look like she dressed out of the mine rag bin when she goes to school.   I’ve got good publishers, Rooster and Pig, and Dreamspinner.  Fireborne is off to a good start, and I’m glad I’m going to be part of that.  I not only survived Silver Publishing, and the theft of my royalties, I may have even survived better than some, simply because I never worried about how I was going to pay the rent, thanks to that EDJ that drives me nuts.  I have a contract with DSP to re-release my first published book, Absent-minded Astrophysicist and its sequel, Loving the Astrophysicist later this year as a collection.  My series, Whispers From a Hidden World, with R&P, that I’ve been writing and working on for more than four years, is having it’s first release soon.  Moving Mountains, with DSP releases on Monday.  I’m starting over basically from the demise of Silver, but it’s a good start.  I learned a lot, and that’s not bad.  Rainbow Con was an absolute blast, I had a good time meeting so many people I only knew online.  Enjoyed spending time with Vicktor and Lor, and Willow the Wonder Dog, and Princess SO.  Made some new friends.  Enjoyed being used for demonstration purposes by Andrew Grey.  My cleavage came in handy for once.  A bit funny the only man to play with it in years is gay...
So why would I be depressed?  Why would I, almost as soon as I came home excited from my trip, having gotten several problems fixed, thanks to the networking, and panels and being able to talk to people in person, fall into that fucking hole? Why have I spent since May barely functioning, struggling to get through edits on time, and often failing, struggling to make it through work, unable to write anything, unable to stay awake for more than a few hours unless at work and that was only out of fear of losing the job? 
That’s a question that’s been asked a lot lately, with the death of Robin Williams.  What the fuck did HE have to be depressed about?  He had fame, money, great career, family that loved him.  Great life.
So what the fuck do I have to be depressed about?  Like I said. I don’t have a bad life.  I get by, better than many times in the past, and better than many others. 
There isn’t an actual answer.  It’s all mixed up in chemical imbalances in the brain and past history and current stresses.  Sometimes the answer is: Just fucking because. 
There’s really no other way to put it.
The last time I was this bad, my daughter wasn’t even three years old.  I passed my Section 8 housing inspection because the inspector felt sorry for me, and didn’t want to make things worse, not because my apartment was fit to live in.  The only time in my life where my sink was full of dishes covered in mold, because I could barely function enough to find food for my kid, let alone actually clean enough to safely cook.  It took nearly a year to climb out of that hole then.
It’s been three months this time.  I’m climbing out of the hole.  I knew and understood what was happening this time.  I’m mentally healthier to begin with this time.  Years of therapy, and just plain TIME. There were even people I could have reached out to.  My therapist wouldn’t have kicked me out, even though I’ve not been since April.  Even have meds in the cabinet that were supposed to help, but instead, the Prozac left me in desperate need of the Vicodin, because everything HURT worse.  So no Prozac for me, thanks, the depression physically hurts less. 
And yet the ONLY reason I didn’t swallow that entire pharmacy in my cabinet just called me at work to ask if she could make herself some chocolate milk while she watches the Three Stooges.  Maternal responsibility isn’t the worst reason not to commit suicide.  It’s not the best though.  I’m writing this literally because I have to stick around to make sure she eats every day.  But she won’t need me forever.  I almost care about what happens next time I have an episode this bad, and she’s NOT in the house any more.  But if I’m lucky, that’ll be another ten years or so.  And maybe in another month, I’ll actually care enough to try to plan ahead to deal with it if it happens. 
Depression doesn’t listen to logic.  It doesn’t listen to anything positive.  It only hears the negative.  Only remembers the negative.  It HURTS.  It makes your joints and muscles ache.  It destroys the progress you made in losing the 37 pounds you lost, piling back on 25, bringing your weight back dangerously close to three hundred pounds.  It makes you avoid anyone else, because as much as you might want to help, or listen, you can’t cope with the cesspool in your own head, let alone the drama going on in other people’s heads.  It even makes you forget to do things that might actually help, like going back to the therapist.  Or at least going to the ER and ask them to write the prescription for the Zoloft, since you can’t see your doctor, cause he retired, and you’ve not found a replacement.  It reminds you you can’t afford the expense of another hospital bill, because you can’t afford insurance either.  It reminds you of all the blocks, and you can’t understand it when someone tells you a way out.  It tells you nobody wants to hear it from the histrionic drama queen.
No trigger this time.  No unusual stress in my life. I’d even had a break from the stress in my life.
Just fucking because.
Chronic depression and PTSD have chemical and physical/emotional causes, but they don’t just go away.  Depression doesn’t go away just because somebody else doesn’t think it’s real, or that you have no reason to be depressed.  It doesn’t need a reason.  It’s generated out of chemical imbalances in the brain, that may be exacerbated the circumstances of one’s life.  It just happens.
Just fucking because.
And that’s why it’s hard to cope with.  You might KNOW, there’s no reason feel too tired to move, after you just slept for 18 hours.  You might KNOW, it’s not good for your health to eat half a loaf of bread, because you’re hungry, sort of, but you’re too tired and hurt too much to cook something better.  You might KNOW, that you have things pretty good, and there ARE one or two people in the world that will love you no matter what, and one of them is standing in the doorway, with a worried look on her face, because she’s old enough this time to realize something’s wrong, even if she doesn’t understand what it is.  But depression just is.  It doesn’t acknowledge these things.  It doesn’t recognize that there’s anything to be happy about.
So while I may be climbing out of the hole, I’m still in that fucking hole.  But I WANT to write again.  I need to again.  So that’s something.  I want to find out what’s going on with everybody, even if I don’t want to leave the house yet.  That’s something else.  I’m stalking my editor for edits that I’m not struggling with anymore.  In the long run, that’s better. 
There’s no cure. There’s no sign above our heads that says, “Depressed person, handle gently.” And just because we KNOW we’re depressed, doesn’t mean we can just…DO something about it.  It takes time and support to DO something about it, even when you understand what it is.  It takes time. 
Experience says it will pass, even though that nasty little voice is still whispering that it will never change, that nothing will get better, no matter what I do, so I might as well not bother. 
Experience says it WILL get better, just like we tell the kids being abused and neglected, trying to keep THEM from committing suicide.  Today I can say that.  Today I can write this. But two days ago, I didn’t want to crawl out of bed again.  And tomorrow might be the same way as two days ago.

I don’t have any advice except find whatever will get you through it, and won’t make it worse.  And try to remember when you felt like it would never pass and it finally did.  Try to believe the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t an oncoming train.  Even if you can only believe that for an hour.  Then try to believe that hour is one hour closer to when it will finally pass.    

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Welcome Vicktor Alexander back, with more shiny!

Vicktor Alexander came by, and asked to share his brand new cover for groom of Convenience, so here we go.  Feel free to comment and hopefully the rafflecopter link works better this time around. :D


In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages.

Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman's club, he meets "Robert," a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as "Timmy" regardless of the potential damage to his reputation.

After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn't as safe as they once thought. 


“Here we are,” Rosemary announced, her voice louder than normal, with a false cheeriness to it. Lucien’s eyebrows rose at his mother’s behavior, and he stopped her in front of the closed doors, which once again let Lucien know something or someone was behind those doors that his parents didn’t want him to know about until they’d had a chance to explain it to him.
“Mother, what is going on?” Lucien asked her.
Rosemary looked at Lucien and shook her head. “Why, Luce, absolutely nothing. Why would you ask me something like that?”
Lucien was really concerned, as neither of his parents used his nickname. Ever. He said nothing to her, just staring, unmoving.
Rosemary removed her hand from Lucien’s elbow and raised it to the pearls hanging at her neck to play with them a moment. Lucien was very aware of that gesture; it meant Rosemary was nervous and trying to figure out just what to reveal. He waited expectantly, confident she would let him know what was going on before he had to face his maldy, but when Rosemary shook her head and squared her shoulders, Lucien knew his ploy of silence wouldn’t work this time.
“All you need to know, Lucien, is that everything we do, we do as your parents and because we love you,” Rosemary told him. She raised a hand to his cheek and stroked the skin gently, lovingly. “We were so happy when I gave birth to you and discovered you were a girl. We had been surprised by the pregnancy, as the doctors told me I was past my conceiving years, but you were a delightful surprise. We always wanted a son, and we were finally given one.” She dropped her hand from Lucien’s cheek and lifted it to her face to wipe away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “We do this because we care about you and only want the best for you.”
Rosemary turned back to the double doors of the red rose room and pushed on the handles to open them. She grabbed the skirt of her morning gown in one hand and glided into the room. Lucien stood in shock for only a moment before he followed her.
“Close the doors, Son.” His maldy’s husky voice came from the direction of one of the chairs next to the fireplace. Lucien nodded and, as he turned to close the doors, saw the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria sitting on the loveseat across from his maldy. He froze in shock for but a moment. Years of etiquette training wouldn’t allow him to just stand in front of the door, but he had never seen anyone in the red rose room who wasn’t family, and now here were two of the most prestigious peers of the realm, not only in their home but in their private family room. Lucien took a moment to compose himself. He smiled at both of them and bowed slightly before turning back to close the doors. After he released the handle, Lucien took a steadying breath and moved to face his parents.
“Well, have a seat, Lucien,” Annabelle directed him.
“Yes, Maldy,” Lucien answered automatically. His maldy was a stern woman. Lucien could only remember one instance where he had ever seen her be soft and loving, though he wasn’t supposed to have. He had woken up in the middle of the night when he was seven years old and had walked out of his room and down the family wing toward his parents’ room. He knew he was too old to actually sleep in the bed with them, but he had wanted comfort from a dreadful nightmare. Halfway down the hall, he’d stopped, frozen in place as he saw his mothers pressed together against the wall next to the bedchamber. They were dressed in evening attire, Rosemary in a gorgeous dress of blue velvet, one hand holding a white shawl, her black hair spilling down her back in a mass of curls. Annabelle was pressed close to Rosemary’s body, her thick blond hair pulled back into a harsh, unforgiving bun, her face pressed into the crook of Rosemary’s neck. Annabelle wore a slim dark green evening gown, embroidered in onyx gems under her small bust and around the hem. As Lucien continued to watch them, he saw Rosemary lift her leg and circle it around Annabelle’s waist, while Annabelle dropped a hand beneath Rosemary’s skirts. Lucien’s eyes had widened, and he’d turned to leave, not in the least bit interested in watching his parents copulate in the middle of the corridor. It was something he only knew about because he’d overheard his sisters speak of it and because he’d sneaked into the servants’ quarters many times and seen the same thing occurring among the servants. Just as he started to turn away, he saw Annabelle lift the hand that had been pressed against the wall on the side of Rosemary’s head and tenderly stroke Rosemary’s cheek. She had leaned close and kissed Rosemary’s lips gently before lifting Rosemary’s leg higher. It was Rosemary’s gasp and harsh groan of Annabelle’s name that had spurred Lucien to turn and race down the hallway to his room.
So while one part of him was happy to know his maldy had a gentle side, the self-preservation side of him tried not to remember how he knew that.
Lucien settled himself on the edge of the chaise next to the loveseat where the duke and duchess sat.
“I believe you know the duke and duchess?” Annabelle said, smiling thinly up at Rosemary, who stood and began pouring tea for all of them. Lucien crossed one leg over the other, balanced his teacup and saucer on his knee, and sat straight up—something else he’d learned how to do in his etiquette class—and nodded.
“Yes, Maldy. So nice to see you again, Your Graces,” Lucien said with a smile at two of the highest-ranking members of society. The Duke of Cumbria was a harsh-looking man. His skin had a healthy tan from spending a great deal of time outside, no doubt riding his horse or hunting, like most titled members of the gentry. It was a luxury Lucien wished he would have once he married, but one he believed he would have to go without once that occasion happened upon him.
The duke’s black hair was brushed back from his face and pulled into a queue at the back of his neck; gray had seeped into the dark strands and colored his temples. His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light gray, almost silver, his chin pointed, a dimple resting in the middle of it.
He had broad shoulders shrouded in a brown morning coat over a startling white dress shirt with a white cravat and a black vest. He wore black breeches, which could barely contain his large thighs, and black boots on his feet.
Next to him, the Duchess of Cumbria wore a morning gown of yellow that caused her pale skin to look sallow. Her red hair, cluttered with gray strands, was pulled back in a bun, tendrils escaping to curl around her rounded face.
Lucien admired the fact that the Duchess had not felt the need to buy a wig of blonde or black hair that would make her much more fashionable. She no doubt felt she didn’t have to, being a superior member of the gentry. Her bonnet rested on her lap, and Lucien wondered if perhaps she had just removed it moments before he’d entered. Where his mother Rosemary had foregone heels for slippers, the Duchess wore a beautiful pair of white heeled shoes with lace and embroidery over the front of them. Her eyes were a deep jade color, and she smiled brilliantly at Lucien when his eyes fell on her.
“And it is indeed a pleasure to see you again, young Lucien,” the Duchess, Jane, if Lucien remembered her Christian name correctly, said, her voice light and melodious.
“I am sure you are wondering why you were summoned to the family home when we did not have a scheduled meal,” Annabelle stated, and Lucien gave the Duchess a final smile before turning his attention to his maldy.
“The thought had crossed my mind, yes, Maldy,” Lucien admitted.
“Well, my dear, we have taken it upon ourselves to make a decision about your life that I am sure you will find not only agreeable but practically miraculous and fortuitous,” Annabelle stated with a pointed look.
That look Lucien knew quite well. Even if he didn’t find the decision “miraculous” or “fortuitous,” he was being ordered to pretend he did in front of the duke and duchess.
“Thank you, Maldy. I am sure that I will,” Lucien agreed. He wondered if he had been offered to be a companion to the Duchess. While it wasn’t at all a notion he would have chosen for himself, it was inherently better than what he thought he’d been summoned to the estate for.
“Your mother and I have decided to accept the suit offered by the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria,” Annabelle told him before calmly lifting her teacup to her lips and taking a sip.
“Suit?” Lucien questioned, looking back and forth between the two couples.
“Yes. You are to wed Heathcliff Eddington III, His Grace, the Duke of Pompinshire, Marquess of Manchester, Earl of Southerby, Viscount of Berkinstock, Baron of Hempstead, heir to the Dukedom of Cumbria, in six months’ time.”

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Author Bio:

Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N. group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes and sleeps sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to contemporary to fantasy to historical and is known for being not only the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries that he doesn’t know are there. Vic a proud father of two daughters one of whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher, a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

OMG!!!!! Nikki's Secret is now in PRINT!!!!!! And a Formal dance...

Nikki's Secret is now available in print!!!!!  You can buy at Amazon:

OR... there will be copies available at the Rooster and Pig  table at Rainbow Con.  Bring me your book and I will be happy to sign it for you!!!!

There will be other bits of swag from me and Vicktor Alexander, Lor Rose and everybody else there, so come visit!

In other news, I'm in the middle of edits for Whispers From and Hidden World: Killian... and soon I will have edits for Nathan and Raven's story from DSP...

And the big one: My daughter is about to attend her first Formal Dance!!! now who said she could do that? Oh,! Dress shopping! And shoes, and hair and MAKEUP!!!!! AAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!

*whimpers* i'm not ready for this....

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

My series has a home and When Emmet Met Oliver is at Amazon ..... I'M GOING TO RAINBOW CON!!!!

The news many of you have been waiting on is that Rooster and Pig Publishing is going to publish my Whispers From and Hidden World series!!! My Rimalians have a home!!!!!! WOOHOO!!! *dances around*

We are figuring out which one comes first but one of my wonderful aliens should be in your grubby little paws very soon!!

And When Emmet Met Oliver has come out and can be found at both Silver Publishing's site and Amazon.  It's the first part of a serial...but each part will be able to be read by itself, don't worry.


You'll be able to find me hanging around the Rooster and Pig booth...and it's entirely possible you may find me wandering about, like a little lost bunny....If you do, please help me find where I was supposed to be going.  Or at least help me find trouble to get into...I will be unsupervised by children, so that shouldn't be too hard, right?

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Here's Vicktor!!! take two.....*ducks head*

Okay, so obviously I suck at trying to schedule posts...this was supposed to go up this mornign, but don't be mad at Vicktor, please! I am an admitted technoidiot and i thought i had it right...Unfortunately i could never get the gorgeous cover pic to come up right, but you can find it on his Facebook page:

But here he is folks!

From Harlem to Goochland to Gainesville: The Travels of Ronny, Cole and Benjamin
Hiya everyone! –waves frantically-

So it's Day Four of my "In The Beginning" blog tour and I am very happy to be here on TN's blog. Thanks for having me!

When I started writing The Beginning I knew that Ronny, Cole and their friend Benjamin lived in New York at the beginning of the book. I also knew that Ronny lived in Harlem. I’d visited Harlem a few years back and spent a few days there with my grandfather, my bio mother’s father, so I remembered the neighborhoods, the smells, the sights and sounds. I could remember the “projects” and knew the exact building that Ronny would live in. It was the one that my grandfather would live in. When I started writing Ronny Parker I thought of my grandfather and his neighborhood. I thought of the teenagers and the young people who loitered around outside in front of his building, it was these people who formed the basis for Shad, Ronny’s cousin, and his “crew”. Harlem is full of culture and history. Riots and racism, so is it any wonder that Ronny, a young, black, gay man is listless and uncertain of his future as a barista at Starbucks?
When Ronny meets his mate, Cole Tronk and they, along with their friend Benjamin, have to run for their lives I had to figure out where they would escape to. I researched small towns on the east coast and came across Goochland in Virginia. It was a funny name and instantly made me laugh when I heard it but when I found out that one of my favorite actors, Carl Gordon, from the television series, Roc, was from the city Goochland well that was what made up my mind for me. How could I not have Ronny, Cole and Benjamin wind up in the small town that was not too far from Richmond?
When the trio arrives in Goochland they meet up with Shifters on the Run and end up finding out that much of what they’ve been told about shifters is wrong or only a half-truth and it changes their world. They know then that they have to act. And act they do. But Cole realizes that even though he is the shifter, the “alpha” in his relationship, he isn’t the one who has been chosen to essentially change the world. It is his mate, his human mate, Ronny, the “Son of Adam” who has been chosen by the Supreme Being to help change the world, especially now that his own actions, that of claiming Ronny and shifting in front of other humans, has caused the truth of shifters to become public knowledge.
This causes all shifters to become hunted and Cole, Benjamin, Ronny and their new pack end up having to leave Goochland and they go on the run again. I knew that I eventually wanted them to end up in Gainesville, Florida. College Town, USA. This isn’t just because I live in Florida myself, and live two hours away from Florida, but because it opened the door for the rest of the series. Who best to be the mates for the rest of the shifters in this series than a bunch of college students from Florida?
Enjoy this excerpt from the first time that Ronny and Cole meet and in the comments below tell me what you would do if you found out that someone you knew was really a shifter.
Ronny Parker has always been aware that there was more to life outside of his Harlem apartment. When he goes to work one morning at Starbucks, he finds himself coming face to face with a reality that he was not prepared for. He finds himself the eyewitness to a fight between two shifters, a wolf and a lion, one of which bites Ronny and calls him “mate.” When Ronny wakes up the next morning, he finds himself thrust into a world neither his family, nor his teachers, ever taught him about and he does the only thing he can do. He starts to investigate.
Cole Tronk has been taught from an early age that he is never to mate a human, never reveal his true nature to a human, and that he cannot be gay. But when he gets into a fight with his oldest friend outside of a Starbucks and finds himself smelling the most intoxicating scent ever, he throws all of those rules out of the window. Before long, Cole and his mate, Ronny, are on the run from the governing body of the paranormals, humans who have now discovered that paranormals, magicks, and supernaturals exist, and someone from Ronny’s past who is determined to kill them both.
Along the way, Cole and Ronny meet up with a group of paranormals, magicks, and supernaturals who are also gay, and who are researching the true history of the world and creation. What they find will not only change their lives, but the entire world and the future. Will Ronny and Cole’s mating survive all of these obstacles? When a millennia-old lie comes back to bite them in the ass, will Ronny and Cole be able to deal with the consequences?

The Beginning can be pre-ordered from Rooster & Pig Publishing at a discounted price until its release day at which time it will go to its normal price:

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, grunts, and curses reached his ears and it didn’t sound as if there were people having sex. It sounded like a fight. Groaning, Ronny raced forward. He was only five feet and eleven inches tall, built like a swimmer to boot, but he’d found that being black would sometimes chase away troublemakers, regardless of his slim build. Coming to a stop, Ronny’s mouth dropped open. His coworker, Benjamin, was fighting another man, but that wasn’t what shocked Ronny. It was the fact that Benjamin’s hands looked like wolf paws and the man he was fighting had hands like a lion. Ronny gasped when both men shifted into animals, backing up until he bumped into the wall behind him. His gasp alerted them to his presence and he watched with wide eyes as they approached him slowly.
“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck,” Ronny chanted. “This is how I’m going to die.”
The lion shifted then, back into the form of a man. The lion man walked over towards Ronny and sniffed the air around him. Ronny trembled and began praying internally. This was not how he wanted to die. Not how he planned to be remembered. Killed by a freaky lion shifter person.
“Mmmm,” the lion man hummed. “Mate.”
Ronny’s eyes widened. He’d read enough romance novels to know what that word meant and he also knew that there was never a black man or woman involved in something like that. Mates seemed to be only for other races, so there was no way that he could be somebody’s mate.
“M-mate?” he stammered. “No. You’ve got it all wrong.”
The lion man shook his head. “There is no mistake. You are my mate. I am your destiny. My name is Cole Tronk,” the lion said.
Ronny stared at him in amazement. Cole stood at least six-foot-four and he was all thick muscles, skin that was a beautiful golden tan color, brown hair with gold highlights, and eyes so dark brown they almost looked black. As Ronny’s gaze traveled over the expanse of skin, he felt his own skin grow tight and hot as he took in Cole’s naked form and the thick, long cock hanging between his thighs. Ronny’s body responded to the man’s nudity, his own dick growing firm behind his zipper and his anus clenching as if preparing itself to be speared by Cole’s thick member. Cole’s jaw was square and firm, his lips full, and his nose slim, which twitched as Cole inhaled deeply. He grinned at Ronny and stepped closer.
“I can smell your lust for me, mate.” Cole’s voice was deep and smooth like whiskey. The sound of it flowed over Ronny’s body, tightening it further and making him moan softly.
“I-I’m not your m-mate,” Ronny stammered. “I’m black and human.”
Cole let out a bark of laughter before leaning forward to sniff at the column of Ronny’s neck. He let out a low growl before licking the skin there. Ronny shivered so hard he thought he would fly apart as the front of his pants grew wet with his pre-cum.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered and clenched his fists against the wall.
Something inside of him wanted to reach out to Cole. He wanted to bring the other man against his body, preferably with both of them naked. He wanted to feel Cole thrusting inside of him. He ached deep inside for… something. He didn’t know what, but he knew that it was somehow the most important thing ever. He noticed that his breath and Cole’s seemed to be in sync and he watched, amazed that whenever he breathed out, Cole inhaled and vice versa. It was as if they were each other’s air.
Riiight, he mentally scoffed. I am not some fucking twink in a romance novel.
Giving himself a mental shake, Ronny raised his hands to push Cole away, who seemed to have gotten so much closer to him in the few seconds it took for Ronny to think. His hands landed on firm pecs and, though he’d told himself that he was pushing the other man away, he found himself squeezing the flesh instead, his palms grazed by the puckered nipples on Cole’s chest.
“Shit,” Cole growled.
It was Ronny’s only warning before sharp pain pierced the join of his neck and left shoulder as Cole, the lion man, buried his fangs into Ronny’s skin. Ronny let out a loud yell, that quickly turned into a moan as the pain became pleasure. Sweet, overwhelming, delicious pleasure. The kind that had him humping Cole’s thigh where it rested between his own legs. It was a pleasure so amazing that it took him a moment to realize that not only had he just cum in his work pants, effectively ruining them, but that he’d just let some fucking lion man bite him.
He told himself that he was going to push Cole away, but his hands seemed to not be listening to him and instead they rose to wrap around Cole’s neck as the other man groaned and drank Ronny’s blood. After a moment, when Ronny was starting to feel just slightly weak, Cole let go of his neck and licked the wounds. He kissed the skin there and began to purr. At first, it freaked Ronny out, but, after a moment, he found himself more turned on by the purring than he’d been by the bite to his neck.
The bite to his—hold the hell on!
Ronny shoved Cole away from him. Jabbing a finger into Cole’s chest, he glared and let out his own growl. “You fucking bit me, you psycho!”
Cole smirked. “You loved it,” he pointed out, crossing his massive arms across his broad chest.

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Tuesday, February 11, 2014

New book coming and a handsome guest blogger!!!

Soo... the big news is Vicktor Alexander will be dropping by on Thursday to visit....He's got a new book out...and graciously consented to come by when I begged him too.... chocolate and being tied to a chair may or may not have had anything to do with it... *whistles innocently*

And....I have a new book coming out on Saturday. When Emmet Met Oliver will release on Saturday 15 Feb 14.  It's the beginning of a serial... i'm halfway through the second installment, i'll let you know when i have it finished :D.

It's just a quickie post... Hope you're all having a great week!

For my new baby:

For Vicktor's new baby: