Gus's blog of lemony goodness!

Coming Soon!

2011-10-21T16:08:00.000-07:00

I have two new releases coming up at Silver Publishing in the next few months. First is Violet Tresses, a fairy tale inspired short:

Sebastian has always dreamed of escaping his life of poverty and toil as a farmer in a poor and isolated village. He feels trapped by his obligation to take care of his widowed mother and young siblings as the family barely manages to survive. One day a beautiful aristocrat with startling light skin and hair claims the young man as a tribute. The mysterious lord called Shade takes Sebastian to his castle, where Sebastian lives in luxury but is forbidden to leave. With Shade as a partner, Sebastian is able to experience the intimacy and passion he's always secretly desired, and to absolve his guilt by telling himself that he has no choice. Before long, Sebastian realizes Shade is much more than an ordinary aristocrat...

Pre-Order

And, at long last, I've written an actual Christmas story as opposed to a terrible tragedy. It features Elijah and Dust from my Ensorcelled series, as well as a surprise guest. Never fear, it's not a sugar-fest and there's still plenty of conflict, fighting, magic and action..

Being stranded in rural Yorkshire on Christmas Eve offers Elijah and Dust a romantic vacation from their dangerous work, and a chance to start some new holiday traditions of their own, since they have no families. When a strange man with unfathomable motives appears in need of their assistance, they must decide if they can trust him. While they’re not happy about an uninvited guest at their intimate celebration, the two young men can’t turn the other out into the cold. Despite the stranger’s physical draw and apparent innocence, Dust and Elijah must decide whether to show him Christmas charity, or whether he’s too dangerous to trust.

Beautiful New Cover Art and an excerpt!

2011-09-09T19:39:00.000-07:00

I just got my latest cover art from the lovely and talented Anne Cain. Snowdrop, a long novella, about 50k, is set in the same universe as Boots for the Gentleman, and will be available from Dreamspinner Press on September 19th.

It's a little kinkier than Boots. Here's the blurb and excerpt:

When pickpocket Robin Pastorious comes across some graphic photographs of a young man suffering in bondage, he knows he has to liberate the victim—even after seeing the long, distinctive ears that mark the subject as a faerie, creatures Robin has been taught to hate and fear. Robin finds that the fey Snowdrop is afflicted with somewhat loose morals, a desire to be restrained, and a learned fear of reprimands, so naturally his ensuing encounters with Robin are both blistering and sporadic. But the faerie’s distant, fickle nature eats away at Robin’s sanity, and Robin ends the relationship.

That’s when the village comes under attack by the fey and Robin is captured and put on a train with the very man who tortured Snow. Will Snowdrop mount a rescue and find a way to convince Robin of his sincerity? Or will the pain of their shared past darken any possible future?

Here's an excerpt (not safe for work). Please enjoy!

“Don’t go,” the fey asked gently.

“Will you try to stop me?”

“No, but I’m asking you to stay. I won’t hurt you. I was just angry. Come. Have some more wine. Sit with me and enjoy the rain. Please.”

Gingerly Robin crossed the room and moved his chair to face the window. He still felt jumpy, and stole a glance at Snow from the corner of his eye. The fey looked completely relaxed with his forearm resting on the windowsill and his wine in his other hand. He inhaled deeply and said, “How I’ve missed the sweet scent of the summer rain. Smell it, Robin. Close your eyes.”

Robin did. The rain intensified the smells of the soil, the ferns, the trees, flowers, and wild berries. Robin recognized the aroma of wet stone, of pine needles, mushrooms, and the herbs growing in the inn’s little garden. He almost thought he detected the musk of the small red deer grazing on wild thyme and rye grass. The two men sat in silence for a long time. Robin heard Snow’s breath slow and wondered if he’d fallen asleep. When he opened his eyes to check, he found the fey studying him intently.

“What is it?” Robin asked, unnerved.

Snow reached out and stroked a lock of hair above Robin’s ear. His hand trailed down Robin’s chin and neck, coming to rest on Robin’s collarbone. “You’re very beautiful,” Snow said slowly. “Would you like to make love?”

“I beg your pardon!” Robin pulled away from the other man’s hands, got to his feet, and hurried to stand behind his chair. He couldn’t imagine Snow would crave the act of love after his abuse, or that he could sense Robin’s predilections so soon. While Robin took a carefree view of physical companionship, he didn’t trust this faerie that he’d known for only a few hours. Before meeting Snow, speaking with him, Robin had considered fey cursed creatures worse than beasts. Now he found them, or at least this one, moody to a point almost approaching madness.

“You’ve been admiring me,” Snow persisted, standing to unbutton the large shirt that hung like a sack over his lean frame.

“Yes, but—”

“And I admire you.” He slipped the shirt over his shoulders and off. His pale, shapely body looked blurry and soft in the low mix of gas and firelight. His glorious hair glowed almost like a halo, and his eyes seemed lit from within, firefly green. “We admire each other, so why should we not enjoy one another?”

“You’re weak, unwell,” Robin argued feebly as he tried to ignore the heating of his face and the tightness in his pants. “You mustn’t exert yourself.”

“Nonsense,” Snow said, moving a few inches closer so that his chest bumped into Robin’s. Nipples like little pearls brushed against Robin’s shirt. “Good, natural things will help me to recover. Things like fresh air and rain. This.” He placed his hands on Robin’s cheeks and pulled their faces together.

At first, shock prevented Robin from acting; he stood stiff and stone-still as Snow’s lips pressed against and glided over his own. Snow’s fingers wriggled into Robin’s hair and closed around his locks, pulling Robin nearer as his tongue swiped across Robin’s teeth. The wine couldn’t cover Snow’s natural, clover-honey taste. His skin smelled of the grass and petals Robin had crushed beneath his boot before finding him. His bare body was silky and warm beneath Robin’s hands as they glided over Snow’s waist. Robin’s mouth parted slightly, and the tip of his tongue met the faerie’s tongue. He pressed against it, afraid too much insistence might spook the vulnerable fey. But Snow’s lips dropped open, and his head fell back, inviting Robin to explore the sweetness of his palate. His waist bowed forward against Robin, and he held tighter to Robin’s hair. Robin kissed him hard, his hands moving around his back to pull him closer. When his fingers met the first of the many raised welts, though, he stopped and moved away from Snow.

“This isn’t right,” he said.

Snow looked down and away. “I’m damaged,” he muttered. “You find me deformed and disgusting.”

“No,” Robin said quickly. He wrapped his arms around Snow’s neck and drew his face to his shoulder. Petting the hair away from Snow’s long, pointed ear, Robin said, “I find you magical and exquisite. I find you very desirable.” He guided Snow’s hand to the swell in his pants as proof. “We’ve only just met, though. You know, you don’t need to pay me back. I don’t expect anything.”

Snow lifted his head and looked at Robin, his eyes reminding Robin of yellow flowers with black centers amidst a field of green. “My people attach none of the regulations to lovemaking that yours impose. It’s just something to enjoy. I want you, Robin.”

“Snow, I—”

“Am I hideous? Please tell me.”

“No. Dear God, no.” Robin spread his fingers over Snow’s face and used them to comb the thick hair away. He held his white tresses as he kissed across his brow, kissed his eyelids, pale lashes, high cheeks, delicate nose, lips, and chin. Robin’s mouth moved across Snow’s jaw as the faerie tugged at the thief’s belt. He found the sharp spike of Snow’s ear and explored its ridges and interior whorls with his tongue. Snow moaned with appreciation and circled his undeniable erection against Robin’s own.

“Your ears are so alluring,” Robin panted, giving the tip of one a playful nip, earning a small, delighted sound from the faerie. He ran his tongue over the entire edge of the narrow triangle before grasping Snow’s tiny waist and gently spinning him around. He lifted the silvery curtain of hair that fell almost to the fey’s hips. At first Snow took his wrist and tried to stop him, but Robin broke away and said, “Everything about you is alluring. You’re wonderful.”

Snow choked back a sound that might have been a sob before brushing his hair over his shoulder and offering Robin a view of his scarred back. As Robin kissed across his shoulders, Snow knit his fingers into Robin’s and guided one of Robin’s hands to his straining erection. He brought the other to his mouth and sucked Robin’s fingers one at a time, the tip of his tongue pressing against the tips of Robin’s fingers. His cock pushed against Robin’s palm as Robin’s lips explored the ridges of raised flesh that striped his back. Soon, Robin felt a circle of moisture against his skin. It dampened a circle of Snowdrop’s stolen pants, and Robin smiled. He wrapped his fingers around the thick base of Snowdrop’s shaft and squeezed.

“You’re so excited—”

“Robin, I want you to take me. I want you inside me.”

“Snow.” Robin didn’t know what to say as he stepped back to undo his belt and trouser flap. He’d been envisioning things the other way around, with himself taking the bottom as he usually did.

“Robin?” Snow faced him as he slowly removed his shoes and pants. As soon as he was naked, the faerie dropped down to sit on his heels with the backs of his hands on his thighs, as Robin had seen him do in the washroom. The thief understood that the faerie had spent so much time bound in that position that he assumed it automatically. Perhaps it granted him some unfathomable comfort. Once he’d finished undressing, Robin sat in the same fashion, his kneecaps flush with Snow’s. He draped his hands over the insides of the faerie’s wrists and gave the thin bones a slight squeeze. Snow nodded, confirming Robin’s hunch.

“Look at me,” Robin said. Snowdrop lifted his chin. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He picked up Robin’s discarded tie and placed it in Robin’s hand. Then he lifted his arms and presented his pressed-together wrists. “Please.”

Sneak Peek at The Midnight Children, and its sexy cover art!

2011-08-27T16:49:00.000-07:00

This novella is set in the Epiphany universe and will be out at Silver Publishing on October 29th, just in time for Halloween. Elijah and Dust have come to a small town in Upstate New York to investigate the murders of several magic-users. They're staying in the home of their employer, Mr. Jonas Kehler.

This is an UNEDITED excerpt!

After dinner and dessert, Mr. Kehler showed Dust and Elijah to a small room at the back of the house. Blue and white stripes papered the walls, trimmed at the top with a sailboat motif. Each of the twin beds bore a nautical-themed quilt and had a white-washed chest at the foot. A collection of worn teddy bears sat on a shelf, and some books were stacked on a stand. Dust picked up Treasure Island and set it back down. “I didn’t know he had kids,” he muttered to himself before sitting on the edge of one of the beds. He turned on the little radio on the night table and scanned the static until he heard the last, scratchy bars of Frankie Valli’s “My Eyes Adored You.” The song ended, and David Bowie, Elijah’s favorite artist, sang “Rock n’ Roll Suicide.” Dust turned the volume up a little.

Elijah went into the adjoining bathroom and splashed some water on his face. He’d been unusually quiet during dinner, and Dust felt a little worried. Normally he intuited his partner’s moods, but Elijah felt distant. For some reason he’d been reluctant to accept Kehler’s offer, even though they needed the money and the job didn’t sound terribly difficult. Dust knew more than the danger they faced weighed on Elijah. When he finished at the sink, he sunk down next to Dust and Dust rubbed his back as he considered what to say.

“Did you have a room like this, before you left home?” Dust asked.

With a bitter laugh, Elijah said, “No. Did you?”

“What, in Venice? My room was bigger than this house, with servants to turn down the bed and stoke the fire. After that—” I slept on the ground, or in a closet. Anywhere my current master permitted. If they permitted me to sleep at all. He shook his head to clear the bad memories. He had to tend to Elijah. “Anyway, what’s going on with you? You seem really spooked.”

“I don’t like it here,” Elijah said, pushing his thick, golden-blond fringe back from his forehead. His pale cheeks glistened with sweat, though the room was cool and comfortable. “Something’s not right.”

Dust moved his arm up around Elijah’s neck and squeezed, kissing him on the temple. His messy, layered locks smelled of the syrup house. “I agree with you. But we’ve had worse. Why are you so upset?”

“I don’t know, Dust. I don’t like that Kehler person knowing all about us. Do you think he knows…everything?”

“Everything?” Dust asked, feeling his stomach contract as his partner’s worries infected him. For the last year, he’d tried to stamp down his intrinsic paranoia and mistrust, as Elijah had restored a little of his faith in peoples’ goodness. Still, the cynicism of centuries proved hard to shrug off.

Elijah confirmed Dust’s worst suspicion, saying, “He looked at my ring.”

“Are you sure?”

First Elijah nodded, then he shrugged. “I feel like everyone’s looking at it all the time, like they all know. I feel like everyone’s trying to get it, and I always have to be on my guard. I promised I wouldn’t let anyone use it to enslave you again, and I meant it. I just feel like I have to watch constantly.”

“I’m sorry. I hate to put you through that.”

“No, Dust. I didn’t mean it that way. I just know what you went through, all those centuries of passing from master to master. I know some of the things they did to you, and I can’t ever let it happen again. I can’t relax. I’m afraid Kehler’s going to sneak in here while we’re asleep and try to steal it off my finger. It’s got me on edge.”

“What can I do?” Dust asked as he rubbed the back of Elijah’s neck. How had he never realized the burden Elijah bore for his sake? Dust had always admired Elijah’s tenacity, his ability to remain pure and unjaded after a childhood of abuse. It sickened Dust to consider that he might be the one to finally turn Elijah bitter and hard. He nuzzled his nose into the thick hair near Elijah’s ear and said, “What can I do to get rid of this tension?” He punctuated the phrase with a playful nip to Elijah’s lobe.

“Maybe… something,” Elijah breathed as he turned his face toward Dust’s. Dust looked into his big, blue eyes, those eyes that he’d loved since he first saw them, and used his elbow to pull Elijah’s face closer. He never wanted to see the innocence go out of those eyes. He kissed each of their lids when they closed, then pushed his lips to Elijah’s mouth. Elijah returned the pressure. His lips parted and Dust seized the opportunity to work his tongue into Elijah’s mouth. He tasted of the rock candy Kehler made from his maple syrup. Dust’s partner returned his kiss, and Elijah deftly slipped the band off Dust’s hair. It fell in black sheets around their faces, and Dust chuckled. Elijah had a real fetish for his long hair, not that he minded. He adored the sight of his dark locks against his lover’s fair skin, adored Elijah’s reaction to it. As if to remind him, Elijah growled into Dust’s mouth as Dust’s locks brushed his cheeks.

With a wet pop, Dust disengaged from Elijah’s mouth long enough to peel the turquoise, tie-dyed T-shirt from his lean chest. Dipping back in, Dust caught Elijah’s little pink nipple with his mouth. He suckled it and then bit it lightly. Elijah gasped and his fists closed around Dust’s hair. Encouraged by the tug on his scalp, Dust moved around in front of Elijah and dropped to his knees on the wooden floor. He kissed the skin over Elijah’s sternum. An injury during their first adventure together had left him with a pale scar like an asterisk. His heart had been destroyed and replaced by a demon’s magic. Remorse always assailed Dust when he realized he’d let Elijah suffer that pain. As he nibbled along Elijah’s torso, he vowed, as he had hundreds of times, to never let it happen again.

“You… okay?” Elijah panted, sensing Dust’s distraction.

“Better than.” Dust pulled the buttons of Elijah’s fly loose and worked his dark brown corduroys and shorts to his knees. He buried his nose in Elijah’s blond fur and savored his scent. Elijah’s fingertips dug into the back of his neck. Another Bowie song, “Young Americans,” played on the radio.

“Dust… Is it okay? Can we do this here?”

Lifting his head to meet Elijah’s gaze, Dust said, “We’ll be quiet. Elijah, I need you.” He extended his tongue and ran the tip up Elijah’s swollen shaft. It bucked and skipped at the stimulation, and Elijah groaned. Dust focused his attention on the underside of Elijah’s head, lapping at the sensitive, rounded groove. A drizzle of pre-come rewarded his efforts, and he savored the taste before sucking hard on the end of Elijah’s penis and fondling his balls. The other man’s head lolled to the side, and he mumbled incoherently. Dust gave his sack a squeeze and a tug as he let Elijah’s cock slip deeper into his throat. When he swallowed, Elijah’s dick bounced and leaked.

“Dust, god!”

Drawing his mouth languidly up Elijah’s length before releasing it, Dust said, “Quiet, remember?” He looked up at Elijah’s flushed face, and Elijah nodded.

“I… I’ll try.”

“Good.” Opening his mouth and covering his bottom teeth with his tongue, Dust took Elijah in once again. He thrust his head down until his nose brushed Elijah’s belly. Elijah’s legs, trapped within his pants, strained and kicked. He moaned and mouthed Dust’s name. If he grew too vocal in his pleasure, Dust reached up and pressed a finger to his lush lips. He actually found it kind of hot to sneak around and be in danger of getting caught. Elijah obviously liked the game too. His cock swelled and grew, filling Dust’s mouth and throat with its girth. In only a few minutes, Dust felt it jump against the roof of his mouth, and the subsequent torrent of semen almost choked him. He swallowed it down, delighted, as always, at Elijah’s taste. After relishing every drop of his seed, Dust released Elijah from his mouth. The other man fell on his back across the bed. While he caught his breath, Dust untied his canvas sneakers and pulled them off along with his socks. Then he dragged his pants and shorts over his ankles and feet, leaving them in a heap beside the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dust said, looking down at Elijah’s lithe body stretched out across the small mattress, his light skin sprinkled with patches of golden hair. “I love you.”

“Love you, Dust.” Elijah’s waist twisted in anticipation, and he gnawed his lower lip as he regarded Dust’s face.

“Stay right there.” Dust slowly removed his clothing, aware of Elijah’s eyes on him and determined to give his lover a good show. He popped his shirt buttons one at a time, never breaking contact with Elijah’s wide eyes. Once he stood naked, he ran his tongue along his upper teeth as he looked at Elijah’s eager smile. He combed his fingers through his hair theatrically, and even used the ends to tease his nipple to hardness as Elijah’s cheeks burned as red as the ripe apples in the barrel. “I want to make love to you,” Dust said.

“Oh god, yes!”

Dust rifled through his bag until he located the tiny container of Vaseline. Digging in, he scooped up a chunk of the jelly with his fingers. It softened as he rubbed it along the length of his cock. Elijah lapped at his teeth and lips as he watched.

“Dust, I want you.”

“Okay then.” A mischievous grin twisted Dust’s lips as he moved between Elijah’s splayed legs. He urged his partner’s thighs further apart as he rubbed his oiled erection against Elijah’s opening. Elijah ground against him, breathing words of encouragement. The head of his cock breached Elijah’s tight ring of muscle, and Elijah cried out.

“Quiet, remember?”

Available October 29th at Silver Publishing.

Epiphany is available now, here.

Afterthoughts on Authors After Dark

2011-08-21T17:15:00.000-07:00

It's been about a week since my writing partner Eon and I got back from Authors After Dark in Philadelphia. It took place at the center city Doubletree Hotel, which, while a beautiful facility, didn't deliver on the promises it made to the event coordinator. The Tease authors had planned a tea to welcome guests, and the hotel wanted to charge us sixty dollars for a gallon of hot water! But I won't dwell on the shortcomings of the hotel staff, because in spite of them the event was a terrific experience for us.

My favorite thing about the convention was the opportunity to meet some of my heroes and make new friends. I actually got to be on a panel with Jet Mykles, who's been a professional inspiration to me for a long time. Best of all, she was delightful and friendly and completely unpretentious. I also got to meet Ally Blue, Rick R. Reed, Victor Banis, James Buchanan, Belinda McBride and oodles of other authors I admire. None of these accomplished people had any kind of ego. It seems those who are entitled to be divas never are. Everyone I met was friendly and engaging.

We attended a reading at Giovanni's Room, the oldest gay book store in the country, and got a signed book from Victor J. Banis. Friday night was the mythos masquerade. Saturday Eon got Frank N. Furter's "Boss" tattoo for an upcoming role as that character from the fine artists of Voodoo Monkey Tattoos. That night at the Steam Ball we dressed as absinthe faeries and gave away a basket of absinthe and prizes. The winner was kind enough to share, and after the ball concluded, we met some fellow steampunk enthusiasts with which I hope I'll be friends with for a long time in the future.

Overall, I met some great people, learned some valuable trade secrets on the panels, promoted my work, and partied. A lot. It was a blast and I'm looking forward to next year in NEW ORLEANS!

More Eye Candy!

2011-07-31T15:34:00.000-07:00

Here's my wonderful new cover art for my upcoming steampunk adventure novel, Boots for the Gentleman. It was written with my Eon de Beaumont and will be available at Dreamspinner Press on August 19th.

This lovely person is Frolic. I can't say too much more about him without spoilers.

TWO upcoming releases from my guest, Eon de Beaumont!

2011-07-25T21:42:00.000-07:00

My guest today is my writing partner and friend Eon de Beaumont. He's just received two contracts for his solo work, a novel and a novella.

Eon, tell us about Wayward Grace.

Wayward Grace is a spin-off based in the universe of our forthcoming novel, Boots for the Gentleman being published by Dreamspinner Press. It follows the exploits of a crew of pirates led by the enigmatic Red Silas Stillwater. The main character is a free-spirited fellow named Keyfer Lockswit. He's a young man who has been on the Grace for some time and has grown up with Silas's daughter, Billie. They find a ship that has just been destroyed by another, more vicious pirate, Cutthroat Caravelli. Silas and Keyfer discover two survivors, a very attractive young man and a young woman. Unfortunately another Anglican Naval ship mistakenly believes the Grace destroyed the vessel and they give chase. Silas decides to sail into a magically enhanced storm and the Wayward Grace and her crew are tossed onto the middle of an island ringed in cliffs. It's up to the young crew to repair the Grace and devise a way to get her off the island. Like Boots, Wayward Grace is an action adventure with prominent steampunk elements.

Care to share an (unedited) excerpt?

Sure! Read on:

Keyfer scrabbled along the rigging. His long, brown hair, faded blond at the tips, was pulled up into a pony tail that flapped in the warm sea wind. Keyfer Lockswit had been serving on The Wayward Grace for close to five years now under the command of Captain Silas Stillwater. On paper they were a merchant trading vessel and civilian transport but off paper, and presented with specific opportunities, the crew might be better described as pirates. Their numbers continued to dwindle worldwide but there were those who would never give up that freedom. Keyfer had been thirteen and living on the streets of Allied Libertannia when he first saw the Grace in the harbor of New Halcyon. He liked to say that something in his brain had clicked and he knew instinctively that a life at sea was the life for him, but truly it was something in his soul finally realizing his place in the world.

“Hard to port!” the captain called from below, and the crew echoed his cry as they scrambled to obey. Keyfer slipped toward the deck. The lithe muscles he had built from rigorous and constant work aboard the ship flexed beneath his golden skin under the noonday sun. The keys that dangled on a string around his necked tapped his chest as he climbed. “Keyfer report!” Stillwater called as the young man dropped to the deck in his bare feet, as he always removed his boots to climb. He cocked his thumb over his shoulder.

“Already smoke, cap’m,” he answered as he scooped up his cuffed boots with their metal toe-guards and makeshift armor across the heels. “I could just make out two distinct masts over the edge of the island.” He paused as he stood. His boots stopped just below the knee where he tucked in the loose, purple pants with the ivy embroidered on the legs. The light pants made for ease of motion. “And the red flag,” he finished as he checked his belts and weaponry, convinced they were in for a fight.

“Piss,” the captain spat. “Nothin’ for it. Good work, boy.” Stillwater laid a hand on Keyfer’s shoulder. “Get those fancy gun-blades ready. It’s bound to be Caravelli.” Keyfer swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead and heaved a sigh while Captain Stillwater called down to the engine room to stoke the fire for added speed. If Cutthroat Caravelli the Baby Killer was attacking a ship around the bend it was bound to be a bloodbath. Keyfer feared they may already be too late. Pirates had a bloodthirsty reputation, but despite earning the moniker Red Silas, Captain Stillwater didn’t kill without reason. He relied on his silver tongue to get him out of most situations and he never started a fight, though he didn’t shy away from finishing one.

The ship lurched forward as the steam engine pushed the aft rotors, and Keyfer braced himself along with the rest of the crew. Keyfer noticed Yama, the giant Japponese man, standing in the bow of the ship with his massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest. Keyfer picked his way across the deck, marveling as he always did at the large man’s intricate dragon tattoo. From its tail on his trunk-like neck, the colorful beast snaked its way all around Yama’s broad shoulders and back. The dragon’s head resided just above the waistband of the large man’s silk hakama and its wild eyes mystified Keyfer. Yama always wore strange, chunky wooden sandals and Keyfer had never seen him without his enormous katana sword. He stood next to the man-mountain and looked out over the bow. Yama towered over Keyfer.

“Cap’m reckons it’s Caravelli,” the young man said and broke the silence. Yama grunted noncommittally. The big man seldom spoke. Even after five years Keyfer was unsure if Yama didn’t speak Anglish or just chose not to. The two men watched as The Wayward Grace crested the tip of the island and The Filthy Harlot came into full view. Keyfer looked at Yama, who said nothing, though the smaller man saw a worried flex of muscle in the larger man’s jaw.

Salton, the first-mate shouted, “All hands on deck!” repeatedly, despite the fact that everyone who wasn’t manning the boiler was already on deck, watching with silent anticipation for a fight or a spectacle.

“Bloody hell. What’s this, then?” Keyfer turned to see the only passenger on The Grace.

“Lizard, isn’t it?” Keyfer asked the young, blond boy. Lizard nodded and his top hat and goggles bobbed. “We may be in for it. That bloke who captains that ship is a real piece of work. You might want to make yourself scarce. You didn’t sign on for this, mate.”

“Bollocks t’that,” Lizard told the young sailor as he drew a dagger and a clockwork pistol from within his vest. “I’m no ponce. If there’s fightin’ to be done, I won’t be hiding in a cabin.” Keyfer slapped the other boy on the back.

“Well said, mate,” the captain said from behind them. “And there may be fightin’ enough t’go around.” The entire crew watched with baited breath as they approached the small but extremely fast ship with its deceptively benign white sails. The second ship, or more appropriately, what was left of the second ship, finally came into view. It was a smoldering wreck thanks to the specialized weapons of The Filthy Harlot. Caravelli, displeased with the speed, weight and accuracy of traditional cannons had outfitted his ship with enormous crossbows. He took it one step further by forcing the famous weapon smith Zilderwendt to design exploding bolts before he castrated the man and suffocated him with his own equipment. The weapons were precise and devastating, and the crew of The Grace had witnessed the results of their handiwork on more than one occasion. As they watched the Harlot pull up anchor, a few men returned from the ruined ship. Her crew restored, the foul vessel pulled hard to starboard and sailed toward open ocean. Keyfer couldn’t believe that The Grace had escaped noticed. The Harlot passed close enough for him to make out the masthead, carved backwards to look like a whore with her legs spread, before it turned away.

“That’s odd,” Stillwater observed. Keyfer agreed, noting a bad feeling in his gut. Something about this situation wasn’t right. “S’pose we ought to see if anything survived.” Keyf knew the captain meant people and treasure alike as The Grace finished her approach.

Tell us a little bit about The Last Blade.

The Last Blade is my first solo novel! It's a sequel to the short story, Amorela Veritath which appeared in the anthology, Lemon Kisses published by Phaze Books. The story follows Ren Mallorian, the Hero of Vrelenden and his traveling companion, The Prince of Toads as they partake of the amenities afforded famous heroes in the imperial city. Having saved the last unicorn, Ren is catapulted into the spotlight, while trying desperately to keep his mind off the fact that his true love, Celestrian, has returned to his people to fulfill his responsibilities as their prince. He's relieved when King Varic summons him to the palace. Ren is shocked to find a zombie in the king's auditorium. After some hasty apologies and awkward introductions, it is explained to Ren that the zombies have formed their own kingdom and their emperor is amassing an army of the undead. The king wants Ren to assemble a party and stop the impending invasion. Ren and the Prince are tasked to gather a mage and a warrior to round out their party. Nothing ends up being simple and they find themselves on a strange meandering journey through the kingdom until they find the situation in the Zombie Kingdom is not as it appears on the surface. Ren is reunited with some old friends and enemies along the way as well. As with Amorela, The Last Blade has a healthy dose of parody and humor, woven in with the action, adventure and fantasy elements.

Excerpt? Please note, this is unedited.

Ren ducked just in time to avoid a line of arrows fired from tiny channels in the wall. They soared just above his messy, ebony locks, clattering against the opposite wall and then to the floor of the tunnel.

“That was close.” The Prince of Toads stated the obvious. “If you want, I can throw a magical barrier up around you.” Ren sniffed at the offer as he continued cautiously through the underground cavern. He wore a fitted, sleeveless tunic of dark green leather over a vest of silvril mail. The delicate Elven metal offered great protection while remaining light for ease of movement. Tight brown pants covered his legs and tucked into his cuffed boots which were dyed the same color as his tunic and had been spelled to make no noise as he crept along on his adventure. Ren gripped the hilts of his short swords with hands protected by lightly armored gloves. Delicate silvril plates covered the backs of the hands and knuckles.

“The last time you cast that spell I almost suffocated.” An enchanted suit of armor moved to block the pair’s advancement and Ren swiftly dispatched it with Yfriir, his Elven-smithed weapon that had the added ability to set fire to its victims. The shortsword was one of a pair crafted by the famed Elven whitesmith, Twelftheart. The other, Friizen, which could instantly freeze opponents, was safely sheathed on his belt. He searched the pile of metal as he passed, retrieving his weapon and stowing the few trinkets that he found in his pack. The Prince, dressed in a purple leather tunic with silver embellishments that matched his crown and the cape fastened at his throat, hopped along behind the Hero.

“Point. But I have been practicing.” The Toad pointed to a chamber off the main hall. Ren poked his head inside. He saw a corpse, little more than a skeleton in rags except for a pair of simple, enchanted boots. “Poor bugger,” the Prince said as Ren removed the shoes and added them to their spoils. The Prince’s observation was more insightful than he realized, for the corpse was none other than Epherim Bugger, who entered this dungeon to make some fast coin—
unsuccessfully. They left the corpse of Mr. Bugger and continued down the main hall. Ren recognized and disarmed a fire trap. A large spider dropped from the ceiling and the Prince crushed it with a repulsion spell before its fangs could harm Ren, who carefully removed the beast’s poison glands and placed them in a corked jar. “Are you going to keep everything you find down here?”

“You never know when this stuff is going to come in handy,” Ren answered, still picking his way forward. “What we can’t use we can always sell.”

“Ren,” the Prince began in exasperation, “we’ve been doing these dungeon crawls for almost six months. We have quite an ample store of gold without taking into account the rewards you received from the King and his Lords for slaying that monster, Grimthorn, despite your liberal spending habits. You’ve been showered with gifts. You’ve even been given a manor house in the capital city. Isn’t it time we moved on to bigger things?” Ren sighed at the Prince’s speech, having heard it more than once before.

“We’re not just doing this for the treasure,” Ren returned as he collected the contents of a wooden crate that consisted of various roots and a few pieces of silver. “Dungeoning offers wonderful opportunities to hone our skills in battle and otherwise.”

“Your skills reunited the Lost Unicorn with his people and saved the captive Unicorns that were being held by Grimthorn.”

“You know that was mostly luck,” Ren pointed out...

Anything else you'd like to share?

I'm sure you've mentioned it here before but Boots for the Gentleman will be out soon as well and I hope people will check that out as well. Thanks for having me, Gus. You're the best.

Thanks for stopping by and sharing your wonderful books with us!

Authors! Promo items needed for Absinthe Tasting

2011-07-24T13:33:00.000-07:00

Hey guys! As you may know, Eon and I will be at the Authors After Dark con in August, and we're sponsoring an absinthe and gin tasting at the Steamball. We'll have our own table with samples of Vieux Carre absinthe and Bluecoat gin. I'm hoping to get a hold of some steampunk-related swag to give out in goodie bags, and some prizes to fill at least one basket for a raffle.

Here's what I'm looking for:

Small promo items for goodie bags, such as book marks, stickers, pens, magnets, candy, etc. There are over 300 people attending the con, and I'll make bags enough for the first 100-200 people, depending on what I get. If you want to send more, the event is also open to the public and I'll be happy to leave your items on the table.

Eon and I are giving away a basket with two absinthe spoons and glasses, some absinthe candy and lollipops, and whatever else I can get a hold of between now and then. I'd like to get some print books to include in the basket. They should be at least loosely steampunk-themed. I'll take steampunk, gaslight romance, or even Victorian historical, as long as it's close. If I get enough, I'll happily make more than one basket. I'd also be interested in "bigger" promo swag like charms and posters for the baskets.

This is and excellent opportunity to promote your work. If you're interested, please email me at augusta li 3 @ hotmail.com (no spaces). Subject: Absinthe promo

<3 Gus

Naming a Series

2011-07-11T11:36:00.000-07:00

I suspect all authors struggle with titles and blurbs. Distilling an entire work into a paragraph or a few words is much harder for me than writing even a long novel. Titles need to capture the entire essence of the story and be enticing enough to interest potential readers. Personally, I either know instantly what to title a book or I agonize over it, sometimes for weeks after I've completed the manuscript. Blurbs are just as bad. They, too, have to hook readers and hopefully compel them to read the work, but without giving away the entire plot. Knowing just how much to include in a blurb is a delicate balancing act. I've gotten better at them, but I still struggle and I thank the gods for my publisher who does them for me.

Now I've encountered a new challenge: naming my new series at Silver Publishing. Like a title, I felt that the series name should reflect the major thematic elements of the work and hopefully attract readers that enjoy the paranormal/fantasy genres. I also thought it needed to do much more. A series name needs to capture the essence of not one, but several books. I wanted it to be specific enough to be recognizable and memorable, but vague enough that it wouldn't limit where I can take the characters in the future. Talk about rough.

This particular series revolves around Elijah and Dust, two young men who fall in love, become partners, and decide to work as freelance magicians. The first novel in the series is called Epiphany, both after the small town where it begins and the awakenings the characters experience. I didn't want to keep Epiphany as the series name, though, since I worried it would cease to be appropriate once the characters had left that location behind. Their journey has already encompassed a lot of the world. I wanted something that would imply the magical nature of their adventures, and I produced a long list of candidates including words like magic, sorcery, and enchantment. They all rang too cliche and generic to express much about my work, though. Some of them sounded down right silly.

After grilling my friends and staying up all night on thesaurus.com, I finally chose Ensorcelled as my series name. It felt appropriate since both Dust and Elijah are under the influence of various enchantments, and that's unlikely to change. Also, it sounds archaic and magical without giving anything much away. A quick Google search assured me that it hadn't been used before. I'm not sure if it's perfect, but I'm pretty satisfied.

Author: how do you choose the name of a series? Do the rest of you suffer as much as I did?

Readers: What kinds of names attract you to a series? Are there some that grab your interest right away?

Hot new cover art and an excerpt!

2011-07-04T15:04:00.000-07:00

I got my cover art for my urban fantasy novel Epiphany from the fabulous Reese Dante today. It's absolutely gorgeous, don't you think?

And as promised, here's a quick excerpt from Epiphany. It will be out at Silver Publishing in ebook and print on August 13th.

Please enjoy, and please comment!!

The whole frigid, lonely time he'd spent walking from Epiphany, Elijah had imagined various scenarios. He’d pictured Dust hugging him with gratitude and inviting him to be his companion. He’d anticipated being greeted with happiness and surprise by the other man. Until now, it hadn't crossed Elijah's mind that Dust might not want to see him. After all, Elijah hadn't defended Dust when the townspeople drove him away hungry. Elijah had been too scared of his mother and the sheriff to speak up. What if Dust thought he was a coward? Elijah felt queasy. He was sure, now, that he'd misinterpreted the look Dust had given him and the way he'd stroked Elijah's hand. Nobody like Dust would be interested in somebody like him: an insignificant person from an insignificant place. Elijah had been fooling himself.

As much as he wanted to turn back and save himself the hurt and humiliation, Elijah kept walking. The least he could do would be to leave the coffee and sandwiches. Dust would certainly appreciate the blanket. Elijah would set them down, apologize for what had happened at the diner, and start the long trek back home. Hopefully, he'd be able to sneak in the back door and through the mud room without his mother catching him, grilling him, and eventually pummeling him with whatever was closest to her hand. Whatever unpleasant thing befell him, he would accept as penance for not speaking up against what had been done to Dust.

The drifter sat in front of his tiny fire, hugging his knees. His dark hood covered everything but his nose, lips and chin. His frozen breath hovered in the stillness like a ghostly companion. Elijah took a deep breath and said, "Hello."

Dust turned his head quickly toward Elijah, the fire reflected in his eyes making them look like glowing embers against his shadowed face. His hand shot out in Elijah's direction as if he held a weapon, but his palm was empty. It groped the cold air, the way a person felt around for a pair of lost spectacles. He slid the hood back and squinted into the darkness. Seeing Elijah, he dropped his hand and relaxed.

"You're the cook from the diner," Dust said.

Elijah nodded. "I brought you some sandwiches and coffee."
Dust rose stiffly and walked over to where Elijah stood just at the edge of the ring of fire light. He looked amazed. "You mean you walked all the way out here to bring me sandwiches?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal," Elijah said.

"Thank you," Dust said.

Elijah slid the bag from his shoulder and held it out to Dust. "There's a blanket in there too. I thought you might be able to use one."
Dust seemed too stunned to even reach for the offered provisions, so Elijah set the bag down by the drifter's feet. "All right then," Elijah said, "guess that's it. I'm sorry about the way everybody treated you. It wasn't right, and I do apologize. Take care." He thrust his shivering hands back into his pockets and turned.

"Wait," Dust said, and Elijah faced him.

"You need anything else?"

"No," Dust said. "Why did you do this?"

"Well, you were hungry," Elijah said. "And it's cold out here."

"You mean that's it?"

"What else would there be?" Elijah asked.

"Come sit down," Dust said. "At least warm up before you walk all the way back to your town."

"Okay," Elijah said, and he followed Dust to the fire. They sat cross-legged on the hard-packed earth, looking at each other over flames. Dust unzipped the gym bag and stripped the foil from the sandwiches. He smiled at them as if they were priceless jewels before starting to eat. Then he silently tore pieces of bread and meat into chunks and shoved several of them into his mouth at a time, looking over his shoulder now and then as if Elijah’s mother might appear from behind a cactus and snatch the food away again. Elijah had never seen a human being eat like that. He was reminded of the stray dogs they sometimes had to drive away from the dumpster behind the restaurant. Dust's rapid swallowing, an occasional grunt of pleasure, and the soft crackle of the fire were the only sounds. In less than ten minutes, he'd finished three sandwiches. Elijah poured some coffee into the thermos lid and handed it to the drifter.

"Hope you like lots of sugar," Elijah said.

Dust took a long gulp. "You have some too," he said to Elijah. "To warm up." He held the little metal cup to Elijah's lips and tipped it forward. As Elijah drank from the cup in his hand, Dust slid closer until their shoulders touched. The sudden warm solidity against his arm shocked Elijah. When he realized that Dust had touched him, he almost choked. Dust lowered the cup but didn't pull away. Elijah wiped the coffee from his chin with his sleeve.

"You don't have a cigarette, do you?"

"No, sorry," Elijah said. Questions raced and collided in his mind like bumper cars. He wanted to ask Dust where he was going, where he'd come from, and why. He wanted to know how the drifter had been injured, how long it had been since he'd eaten. The biggest question also remained: Would Dust let Elijah go with him?
"You said there's a blanket in here?" Dust asked as he rummaged through the pack. He found the corner of the blue quilt that had been on Elijah's bed and unfolded it. He threw it over his shoulders like a cape and said "Well, get under."
Elijah hesitated and pulled away. He hadn't been expecting this level of familiarity so soon. It confused him and scared him a little bit. He had almost no experience with such situations, but Dust smiled sincerely, and Elijah took a deep breath, forcing himself to say, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"Come on," the drifter urged, holding the corner of the blanket out from his shoulder. "We'll both be more comfortable if we share."

Elijah spread the blanket across his back and tucked the satiny edge under his chin the way he did when he went to sleep at home. Dust's warmth beside him after his long walk acted almost as a sedative. He realized, to his surprise, that he felt completely safe and comfortable around this stranger. He poured another cup of coffee and laid his cheek lightly against Dust's shoulder.

"Dust," Elijah said, barely above a whisper. The drifter's blue-gray eyes stayed fixed on the fire. "Dust?" he said again, a little louder.
The black-haired young man turned. He looked so beautiful and mysterious in the amber glow that Elijah inhaled sharply. "Dust, can I ask you something?"

"Dust?"

"You said, at the diner, that you were Dust," Elijah said, blushing and feeling stupid. "What should I call you?"

Dust placed a soft kiss on Elijah's forehead that him tremble from his ears to his freezing toes. "Call me whatever you want. Call me Dust if you want to, and ask me whatever you want."

Elijah swallowed hard. "I want to help you. Whatever you're trying to do, I want to help."

"Why?"

"I—"

"It's okay," Dust said. He put his arm around Elijah and pulled him closer. "I'd like it if you came with me. It's pretty rough, though, as you can see." He pointed at his camp: a backpack for a pillow and a pile of burning twigs and brush.
"I don't know what I'll be able to do," Elijah said. "I don't really have any talents, except cooking."

Dust nestled his face into Elijah's thick hair and spoke softly into his ear. "That's not true. You have a pure, innocent soul. Real goodness is rare, rarer than riches, or power, or anything. It's a treasure. Besides—" Dust gripped Elijah's chin between his thumb and finger and inclined his head so their eyes met. "—you're really cute."

Still holding Elijah's face and shoulder, Dust lay back slowly. Elijah's head stayed against his chest. They pulled the blanket tight around themselves and twisted to face each other. Dust stretched the blanket up over their heads and wriggled closer to Elijah. His breath warmed Elijah's nose and lips. Their foreheads pressed together, and Dust's arm encircled Elijah's waist. His warm hand slipped under Elijah's jacket and T-shirt to caress the muscles of his back.

Everything Elijah had ever heard about relationships or dating conflicted with what was happening under the quilt. He'd understood that touching like this should be kept until both partners had known each other for weeks or months, preferably until after marriage. He didn't even want to think about what he'd been taught to believe about men touching each other in this way. He'd spent only a quarter of an hour in Dust's company; he didn't know his real name or anything about him. He'd dreamt of this moment, wanted it, feared it might never happen, but now he wondered if it should happen so fast. It felt right though, better than right: perfect.

How do you like my lemons?

2011-06-30T16:49:00.001-07:00

Hehehe.

A good, good day

2011-04-30T21:02:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

I usually don't talk about personal things but I'm going to just a little bit. If you're not interested, just skip over it. No hard feelings, really.

Today was a heckuva great day for me. First of all, the fine people at Horsepower Harley-Davidson held a benefit for my dad, who had pancreatic cancer. It was very uplifting to see so many people come out to support him, and to see how well loved he is by the community. This hasn't been an easy time for him or for my sister and me, but seeing people be so selfless and just great, and seeing my dad have a good time, made it a little easier. A sincere thanks to everybody!

Good thing Number Two: I came home and found another acceptance letter in my email. My quirky/kinky fairy tale Violet Tresses will be published by Silver Publishing! I filled out the cover art form and sent it back right away, because the cover art there is just so beautiful, and I can't wait to get some of it! This is my second acceptance at Silver, the other being an urban fantasy, Epiphany.

Good Thing Number Three: I did my friend's hair today, and I managed to get it white, white as thistledown, with minimal damage. Not a hint of yellow anywhere; not even blond. It's the virgin snow, and looks completely supernatural. I am pretty pleased with myself. I guess I've got some skills, at least when it comes to white hair and dirty writing.

Peace, everybody!
Gus

Some smut for you

2011-04-25T20:51:00.000-07:00

As promised, here's a dirty little excerpt from me and Eon's upcoming steampunk novel, Boots for the Gentleman. We had a blast writing it and it ending up at 102K! And it's just the first book in a series. As mentioned, it's unedited, so please forgive any typographical errors or the like. Look for the complete, polished novel (with gorgeous cover art no doubt) at Dreamspinner Press in August.

AS orphaned children, Reginald Whitney and Querrilous Knotte grew up in the work houses and factories of the city of Halcyon as it suffered the birth pangs of rapid industrialization. Their mutual agreement to watch each other’s backs soon turned into much more. Now Reg, having been adopted by a wealthy family, is determined to marry and lead a respectable life, while Querry refuses to bow to society and earns his living by theft and mercenary work for the vilified faeries. Querry is unwilling to give up on his first love, and makes a discovery that draws the two men back together. What he finds in a hidden basement reveals a conspiracy that reaches all the way to the aristocracy and could threaten the entire city. To protect this priceless find, Querry and Reg must fight the vast resources of the nobility and make allies wherever they can.

In Querry and Reg’s world, magic and industry make very uncomfortable bedfellows, but the young men will need both to protect each other and everything they love. Their adventure will take them from the dangerous back alleys of Halcyon, to the elaborate ballrooms of the privileged, to far-flung foreign lands, and even into the Other World itself. Along the way they make friends and enemies of eccentric geniuses, scavengers, resistance fighters, mercenaries, wizards and criminals. They know that the technology they’ve discovered will alter the course of history, but first they have to escape the forces that will stop at nothing to possess it.

Here's an excerpt. I hope it's not too much of a spoiler that Reg and Querry hook back up. Please comment. I'd love to know what you think!

“Feels good to hold you again,” Reg said. “Especially since I never thought I’d get another chance.”

“Love you, Reggie.”

“Love you, Querry.” Reg placed a trio of long, hard kisses across Querry’s brow.

“I’m glad to have you back. Glad we’re together. I’m sorry it took something like this for me to realize that’s how we belong.”

“Shh.” Querry reached up and petted the blond hair out of Reg’s face in two firm strokes. His fingertips skimmed down Reg’s cheek and stopped to trace around the perimeter of his shapely lips. Stretching his neck, Querry closed the distance between his own lips and Reg’s skin. He kissed and suckled just below his jaw as his adept fingers dropped to the bow he wore and worked the knot loose. Reg’s shirt fell open, and Querry kissed along the muscle that stretched from his ear to his collarbone. His hand moved back up, over the delightful, soft hair on the back of Reg’s neck and into his plentiful locks.

“Come here,” Querry said, giving Reg’s tresses a tug. “Give me your mouth.”

“Yes, Querry,” Reg breathed. He slid down until they faced one another, and their lips met. Querry took a second just to savor the contact of their faces pressed close, and then he angled his head and let his tongue venture into Reg’s mouth. Reg’s tongue met Querry’s fervently, the tip swirling around Querry’s tip as his hands clawed at Querry’s shoulder blades. Wriggling his arm between their tightly-pressed bodies, Querry began to pop the little ivory buttons of Reg’s linen shirt one by one. As soon as he finished, he brushed it aside and took hold of Reg’s waist, feeling the muscles twist and contract in his hand as Reg writhed with anticipation. Then he let his fingertips dance up Reg’s spine and back down, to the downy hair just above his ass.

Reg groaned with need, the sound reverberating through Querry’s body. Querry pried Reg’s clutching hands away from his clothing and sat up on his heels. He tugged away his necktie and flung it off to the side. As he hurried out of the expensive waistcoat and shirt, he watched Reg stretched out on the blankets. He’d rolled to his back, and his white shirt hung open, almost off his shoulders, revealing a smooth, slender body that looked made of gold silk in the firelight. His heart beat so hard and fast that Querry could see it shake his entire torso. Across his lovely face came a look that mixed trepidation, desire, and compliance in an intoxicating way. With a trembling hand, he reached out to stroke Querry’s bare chest.

“And just why did I bother dressing?” Querry teased.

“I, I don’t know,” Reg managed.

As Querry unbuckled his belt, Reg kicked off his plain black shoes. Both pairs of hands seized Reg’s waistband and tore his trousers and under-shorts to his knees, and then off. He sprawled back out, his head propped on one of the former sofa cushions, his dark erection pointing up and left and jumping with his pulse.

Querry stood, toed off his own shoes and slowly unbuttoned his fly. Taking his time, taunting his lover, he reached inside and took hold of his hardened cock, bringing it out through the opening but not removing his trousers. As Reg looked on with longing, Querry gave himself a squeeze, causing a pearl of pre-come to bud from his slit. Reg moaned again, and his hand jerked like he might touch himself. Instead, though, his fingers opened and closed around handfuls of blanket as his waist twisted. A shiny film of perspiration covered his body.

“Querry,” he panted. “There’s some hand lotion. In the box with the soap.”

The thief got out of his clothes and dug among the fragrant shells until he found a little tin with a chemist’s logo stamped into the lid. He turned back to face the bed, ready to scoop out some of the creamy, musk-scented balm, rub it over his length, dive on Reggie and take him hard.

But then he stopped. As much as he wanted Reg, wanted to be inside him, for once in their lives they had time. For once, they wouldn’t need to rush to satisfy themselves before someone noticed them missing. They had all night, and Querry planned to put it to good use. He set the tin on the barrel table for later and crouched down by Reg’s feet. Wrapping his hand around Reg’s left sole, Querry lifted his leg into the air and kissed the dome of bone at his ankle. His other hand moved up Reg’s opposite thigh slowly, leaving raised pores in its wake, until it reached Reg’s balls and gave them a gentle squeeze. In response Reg’s hips bucked up, and Querry chuckled.

Kneading Reg’s sack, feeling the testicles inside it rolling over his fingers, Querry kissed up the inside of his leg. When it met his body, Querry let go of Reg’s foot and stretched out over his chest, savoring the amazing feeling of skin against skin. He touched Reg’s burning cheek and felt out his lips before kissing him long and hard, thrusting his tongue almost into Reg’s throat. Reg’s legs wrapped Querry’s hips, his heels compelling Querry forward.

“Not yet,” Querry said into Reg’s ear.

“But Querry—“ Reg practically pleaded.

Sitting back up, Querry grinned mischievously and said, “Not until I kiss every inch of your beautiful body. Touch you everywhere. Just lay back, Reg.”

He obeyed, and Querry’s hands and mouth began their tour of his skin, beginning at his chin and taking a meandering path down his neck and across his chest, and then down the gully between his stomach muscles. When he reached Reg’s cock, he held it in his hand and licked from the base to the head, letting his tongue circle around the corona until it glistened with saliva. Then he kissed in an angled line over Reg’s protruding hipbone, and then up his waist. Taking Reg’s wrist, he guided his arm over his head and ruffled the sparse hair beneath it with his nose before continuing across his bicep and forearm. Next Querry took hold of Reg’s shoulders and rolled him to his belly.

Right away, Reg started to draw his knees up and lift his ass into the air, but Querry held a hand to his lower back, halting him. He looked over his shoulder at Querry, confusion and need pouring from his soft eyes.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he said.

Running a hand up the long, vertical muscle of Reg’s back, Querry said, “Just be still. Be still and let me admire you. I’ve never really had the chance.”

I'm bad at this...

2011-04-23T11:40:00.000-07:00

So yeah, it's been a really long time since I updated this thing. It's difficult for me to think of something interesting to write about on a regular basis, and I don't want to be one of these people who just tells everybody what I ate for every meal. It's usually ramin anyway...

Here is what has been going on since I last posted in what, September of last year! So sorry. I will try to do better. In December I published a novella with Dreamspinner Press, and my lifelong dream of having Anne Cain as a cover artist came true! Her artwork for my book Neskaya is more gorgeous than I ever could have hoped. See if you don't agree:

It has been very well reviewed, which makes me happy.

Five Angels from Fallen Angels Reviews: and "Highly Recommended" by Obsidian Bookshelf here: It was also a recommended read at All Romance Ebooks! So yay!

Let's see, I also played Fallout New Vegas, which was a fine game despite the many glitches, which are now patched anyway I think. I played Dragon Age 2. A lot.

Eon and I wrote a monster 102K steampunk/fantasy novel titled Boots for the Gentleman, and it was accepted at Dreamspinner for a tentative release in August or September. I'll toss up an unedited excerpt in my next post.

My urban fantasy solo novel Epiphany will be released at Silver Publishing on August 13th. I can't wait to see my cover art on that one either!

Thanks and love to everyone who's supported me and Eon and our work. I've bored you enough for today, I'm sure.

Lemon Kisses Volume 2- Call for Submissions

2010-09-26T12:26:00.001-07:00

Call for Submissions

Lemon Kisses Volume 2, A Yaoi Anthology
Edited by: Augusta Li
Publisher: Phaze Books
Deeadline: January 10, 2011
Format: eBook (initially, with possible print release)
Payment: 40% of ebook sales, split evenly among authors, plus copies
You must be at least 18 years old to submit to this anthology.

I am looking for well-written yaoi stories for this sequel to the best-selling yaoi anthology, Lemon Kisses. Before submitting, please be familiar with the yaoi genre. It’s not quite the same as m/m romance or gay erotica. If you’re not sure what qualifies as yaoi, please do a little research. A good indication of what I’m looking for is the work in the original Lemon Kisses. Stories should be between 15 and 25K, and can be in any sub-genre (fantasy, contemporary, historical, etc.). Above all, I’m seeking unique works with solid plotting, good characterization, and a good balance between hot, erotic scenes and story. Explicit sex is encouraged.

Please be advised that I’m likely to reject cliché yaoi plots, such as Japanese school-boy romance, unless you have a really fresh take on it. Nor am I a fan of gay-just-for-you, again, unless it’s stellar. No anthropomorphic characters, please. Kemonomimi is acceptable if well-done. In fact, I would love to see some good kemonomimi, but characters should be MOSTLY human (no bestial facial features, etc). All characters involved in sexual situations must be at least 18, so sorry, no shota. Anything not normally allowed (rape, snuff, bestiality, necrophilia, bodily waste or pedophilia) isn’t allowed here either. I’ll consider forced seduction, but be very careful.

To submit, please attach your manuscript as an rtf or doc and send it, with the words YAOI ANTHOLGY SUBMISSION in the subject line, to augustali3@hotmail.com. Please follow the Phaze Books formatting instructions located at http://www.phaze.com/submissions2.html. Include a brief introduction, including your contact information and publishing history, if any.
If you have any questions, email me at the above address.

About Phaze: Launched in November, 2004, Phaze Books has offered a wide selection of erotic romance and women's erotica in eBook and print formats. We are proud to have a number of best-selling and rising stars of romance in our catalog, as well as a Romantic Times Top Pick, an EPPIE winner, and several EPPIE nominees. Our authors include Piers Anthony, Alessia Brio (who edits anthologies published in conjunction with Coming Together), and Lisabet Sarai.

Dragon Age: Golems of Amgarrack

2010-08-12T23:58:00.000-07:00

Here's a quick review of the latest DLC from from Bioware's Dragon Age universe; and I'll try to avoid spoilers.

The basic premise of the story is that you, as either your Grey Warden from the original game or Awakening, or as a newly generated character, are contacted by a dwarf and asked to go into the lost thaig of Amgarrack. Jerrick's brother and a party of twenty men went in search of the secret to creating golems but haven't returned. Once you enter the thaig, a few Darkspawn and shrieks will attack you; they were no problem for my level 33 mage. As you venture further into the ruins, you'll encounter some nasty creatures such as phantasmal warriors, arcane horrors, and a revenant. Again, not a big deal for an experienced player.

The real challenge in this mission is figuring out how to operate the various switches that control the flow of lyrium. By flipping them in the correct order, you can access areas, doors and chests that were previously blocked. You must take care, though, because some of the switches will trigger some very difficult battles. In order to accomplish the mission and make your way to the end boss, you must flip a series of switches in a specific order, as dictated by a series of journal fragments you'll find scattered around the environment. When you reach that final battle, be ready! It's a bitch, especially if you haven't mastered the use of the switches. I don't want to give anything away, but it's a long, hard fight that will require a lot of strategy.

The mission took me about two and a half hours to complete; others will probably manage it quicker since I have a horrible sense of direction and got turned around quite a bit in the tunnels of Amgarrack. It pays to be thorough: you can score valuable additional party members (and you'll want them when you face the end boss) as well as sweet upgrades to your character and gear. There aren't a lot of side quests, but the ones offered are well worth your time. As for your party members, I have to say I was a little disappointed. They didn't seem terribly resilient; I finished quite a few tough battles as the last man standing. And they certainly didn't have the love-inspiring, quirky personalities of past companions like Morrigan, Oghren or Zev. There just wasn't enough time or interaction allowed to grow fond of them. The mission was also a little light on story.

Overall, I enjoyed the puzzle aspects of this quest, and the combat was satisfying. The environment was interesting, if a bit confusing (for me, with my horrible internal compass), and the perks to your character are substantial. The rather flat supporting characters really made me miss both my original party and my companions from Awakening. I just didn't connect with them or their motivations, and making ties with my fighting buddies was one of my favorite aspects of the original game. I liked the idea of fighting to help friends, rather than just slaughtering through to finish the mission. That being said, Golems of Amgarrack is a good time and well worth the five dollars or so you'll pay to download it. I recommend it to Dragon Age fans, especially if you want to fortify up your Warden.

Now, Bioware, stop teasing and let me go to Antiva!

The Right Wing Strikes a low blow (surprise)

2010-08-05T16:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's overturn of CA Prop. 8 may have been a huge victory for the GLBTQ community and for equality-minded Americans everywhere, but the extremists and bigots have already struck back. Not shocking from the National Organization for Marriage, they have chosen to go after the judge and his lifestyle personally, rather than debating the issue in a rational, adult manner. This is disgusting and childish. I've often thought that the best way of dealing with these bigots is to just let them open their mouths and watch them stick their feet right in.

Here's a petition you can sign, letting NOM know exactly what you think of this low blow. It is personalized a bit by me, but you can get to the form letter from the link below.

Wasting no time, the anti-gay National Organization for Marriage reacted bitterly to Wednesday's landmark ruling overturning Proposition 8 in California. Unbelievably, NOM's Maggie Gallagher even went after Judge Vaughn Walker’s sexual orientation. Sign this petition and tell Maggie gay-baiting has no place in the national debate over LGBT equality.

This makes me sick. It is petty, immature and desperate. None of these are surprising coming from NOM, but no fair-minded judge should be attacked because of his sexual orientation, any more than a judge should be attacked based on race. Please remember, it hasn't been so many years since the "majority" of Americans opposed equal rights for African Americans! Now the same sort of bigots are are persecuting the GLBTQ community. Please let them know how despicable it is to target a judge personally, rather than debating the issue rationally. Please, NOM, try to keep a shred of dignity!

Join me in signing Victory's petition to NOM: http://bit.ly/dzQkgn

Authors: Publishing Opportunity with Tease

2010-07-29T15:43:00.001-07:00

If you would like to submit a manuscript for consideration please query first. At this time we are not looking for previously published work unless it has been off of the market for over 12 months.

Your query should include the following information in the body of your e-mail.

No attachments please.

1. Your legal name and pseudonym if applicable.
2. The title of the book(s) you are submitting.
3. A 25-50 word blurb.
4. A brief synopsis.
5. Marketing strategy
6. Links to your website, blog, etc. (they will be reviewed)
If your query grabs my attention or the attention of an editor, Tease will request a partial or a full for consideration.

We are currently looking for:

1. M/M, F/F
2. Multi-cultural and Interracial
3. Contemporary Romance
4. Romantic Suspense
5. General Fiction
6. Non-Fiction
7. Memoirs
8. Thrillers
9. Science Fiction

Priority Consideration is given to the following call for submissions: Novellas 8-25K All Genres of romance welcome (meaning it can be M/F, M/M, F/F, Ménage, or multiple).

Christmas 2010. Have you Been NAUGHTY OR NICE?

Deadline for complete manuscript submission is October 31st 2010.

We are looking for Holiday Romance. The heat level can be nice or it can be naughty.

Jan-March 2011. Deadline for full submission is Nov 30th.

Love Bites: Shifters, Vamps, Weres, and even the average human can get bitten by the love bug when they least expect (or want) to. Reluctant romance is in the air this Valentines Day.

Celtic Wonders: In honor of St. Patrick's Day 2011 we are looking for Irish tales. You can be creative here. They can be contemporary or historical, travel and adventure or folklore and legend based.

Girl Kisses: F/F Find new romance and enjoy the tantalizing first kisses and first loves.

April-June 2011 Deadline for full submission February 28th.

Summer Solstice: Bring on the heat. From mystics to misfits summer is a chance to renew your spirits and indulge in summer fun.

Love in Full Bloom: Sweet romance takes place this Spring.

When Worlds Collide: This is not a Sci-Fi. It is what happens when the working class character falls in love with the business class character. Think White and Blue Collar jobs.

July-Sept 2011 Deadline for full submission May 31.

Behind Locker Room Doors: Not everything that happens in the locker room stays in the locker room. Give your characters access and explore the wild romantic world of sports!

A Masculine Scent: M/M Bring on the rogues, the warriors, and the passionate men who love men.

Magical Beings: Elves and Fairies, Nymphs and Sprites, Dragons and Unicorns, horses that take flight, mermaids, enchantresses, wizards, and genies. Where can your imagination take us?

Oct-Dec 2011 Deadline for full submission is August 31, 2011.

Winter Wonderland: No snow required. Cold hearted characters finding a passion hot enough to melt their heart is. Bring on the bad guys and make em' really good!

Kiss Me Deadly: Murder, mystery, and mayhem. Can your characters survive?

Heart of a Warrior: This can be historical or contemporary but it has to be set right before, during, or after a war. Let love survive. At least one of the love interests need to be military.

We will not accept young adult or material marketed toward readers under 18.. Submissions are open to US Residents only. Due to tax laws and the size of our company we cannot accept authors without a US Tax ID.

Please send the query to:

Gail Martin
Editor in Chief
submission@teasepublishingllc.com with Query and the title in the subject line.

Final Days to register for Authors After Dark! Get yours in NOW!‏

2010-07-25T14:22:00.000-07:00

Authors After Dark closes its registration on August 1st 2010! If you have not gotten your registration in you are missing out on all the amazing goodies, gifts and free books this year! DONT MISS OUT! With over 2400 books being given away, TONS of swag and premium items, Parties, a Masquerade ball with a Costume contest (and a 100$ Spa Finders GC for the winner!) and TONS of amazing goodies in the charity raffle- Including a NOOK, IPAD and ITOUCH , you do not wanna miss this years event!

Are you an author looking to get infront of some NY publishers? we have SEVERAL NY editors coming to AAD this year to take appointments! Kensington, Ballantine, TOR and many more will be in attendance... but you can ONLY get an appointment if you register!

Registration is $140 and includes 5 meals and alcohol all weekend! Rooms are 109$ a night, and are double occupancy!

Are you a Blogger? AAD has a special Blogger program set up where we treat bloggers as they amazing royalty they are! Register as a blogger and be treated to a special blogger party thursday night, get a special blogger book bag and the opportunity to make contacts for interviews and guest blogs with the authors and industry!

Is that not enough reasons for you to attend? then hows this... AAD is the ONLY romance con that is showcasing GLBT books and publishers! LOVE M/M and F/F Books? Wanna meet some of your favorite authors? Want a TON of goodies and free books?

REGISTER NOW

Lemon Kisses is almost here!

2010-07-15T15:06:00.000-07:00

Lemon Kisses contains four tales of love, lust and passion between beautiful men. Two friends explore their darkest fantasies. A young man becomes a hero and finds true love in the most unexpected way. A wealthy record executive risks everything for a pair of soft lips. And a group of models with an ancient secret join together to realize their power and defeat a deadly enemy.

Your Fantasy or Mine by A. Steele: Seth Quan knew it was stupid to fall in love with his gorgeous, skirt-chasing, straighter than straight friend Kevin Bishop. Really stupid. But hope springs eternal – and all that crap. Then one drunken, mind-blowing kiss changed everything between them. Or did it? Apparently not. The next day Kevin didn’t remember a damn thing. So Seth tried to let it go... And when that didn’t work he paid ten thousand dollars to have Kevin kidnapped and chained naked to his bed.

Now Seth has just one night to prove to Kevin that they belong together. The question is: can love, Darth Vader, and lots of kinky sex really conquer all?

Amorela Veritath by Eon de Beaumont: All Ren ever wanted was to be a hero. He trained relentlessly, studied every story about every renowned hero he could get his hands on and borrowed money from a vampire to purchase named Elven weapons. Now he’s down to his last few pieces of gold, his weapons have been repossessed and he may not have a place to sleep. When the beautiful, silver-haired Celestrian walks through the door of the local tavern looking for a hero to hire, Ren believes destiny (and cash flow) are calling. After facing bandits, a dragon, goblins and zombies, Ren thinks his career may have been poorly chosen. But with a little help and a lot of luck he may just be able to take his place among the legends he admires and find the lost civilization of Unicorns.

Bitter Fruit by Imari Jade: Japanese music producer Takai Nakagawa is rich, famous and runs the biggest entertainment company in Japan. He has limousines, fast cars, a penthouse apartment in Shibuya, and a bevy of beautiful women vying for his attention. He has everything money can buy except love. Then one day he hears an angelic song that changes his life.

Inspiring writer Kin Watanabe dreams of one day penning the great Japanese novel. He is dirt poor, barely making a living as a waiter and never had a girl friend. But life throws him an unexpected little surprise when he is overheard singing a lullaby.

Swept of his feet by a pair of soft lips, Takai fights against the strange attraction he feels for his young protégé. But try as he may he cannot get him out of his mind. Will he succumb to such a forbidden fantasy with the hopes of finally finding happiness?

The Daemon Within by B.J. Franklin: Miki is a young model who is thrilled when his idol wants to do a photo shoot with him. He is even more thrilled that his idol, another model called Alek, desires him intensely, and Miki cannot resist succumbing to their mutual passion. But he does not know that Alek has dark secrets in his past, secrets that Miki is unknowingly involved in, and the people concerned will stop at nothing to separate them and pervert Miki to their evil cause. Miki must use his wits, his intuition and his burgeoning magic to thwart them, while he is forced to confront unwelcome truths about his own past, about the world we inhabit, and about the point where reality and mythology entwine.

Coming soon!!

Should an author's political views matter?

2010-07-07T17:54:00.000-07:00

Would you read a book written by a raging homophobe, a racist, or a misogynist? What if the fictional work looked interesting and didn't include any of the author's objectionable views? Should the story stand on it's own?

I ask because a few days ago the second issue of the Dragon Age Origins comic book became available. I really liked Dragon Age, and when I first learned there would be a comic adaptation, I was very excited to explore the intricate world and stellar, complex characters Bioware created. Then I learned that the author of this work would be Orson Scott Card. This bigot is very vocal about denying marital rights to GLBT people and even believes laws against homosexuality should stay on the books! He thinks homosexuality is a disorder that results from childhood abuse. If you'd like to read about his views, go here, but be warned, it is extremely offensive.

I did not buy the Dragon Age comic. I cannot support this man, nor Bioware's ludicrous decision to choose him as an author, especially when they have so many fantastic writers in-house. I'm told that there is no homophobic propaganda in the book itself, and that the writing is decent if not great. I had to ask myself if an author's personal, political opinions should influence my decision about purchasing a fictional work. I came to this conclusion: if the author is outspoken and uses his influence to defame and attempt to oppress millions of people, then it must influence my decision. I have no idea of the political leanings of the authors of most of the books I read. I read them because of their talent and ability to tell a compelling story. I certainly won't go out of my way to try to find out an author's affiliations. But the situation changes when the author's views are extreme, vocal, and filled with hatred.

For now, I'll just have to keep hoping that a better author will take the reins at the Dragon Age comic. Until he or she does, my conscience won't let me spend a penny on it.

Win gay books and art!

2010-06-20T10:52:00.000-07:00

Win gay books and art just by dropping an email! Go here: http://bookworld.editme.com/GLBT-Bookshelf-turns-One-Year-Old

You can choose my book, The Magician, Coal to Diamonds ( http://bookworld.editme.com/Magician-Coal-to-Diamonds-0 ), or one of many others. There are absolutely gorgeous fine art prints up for grabs too!

Coming Together With Pride

2010-06-11T15:10:00.001-07:00

Coming Together: With Pride by Alessia Brio

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book is a non-profit project to benefit AIDS relief worldwide. For that reason alone I would encourage everyone to pick up a copy of this erotic anthology. The stories themselves offer something to please almost everyone: there are gay, lesbian, bi, hetero, BDSM, multiple partner offerings and more. I'm a fan of gay male fiction, so I'll say a bit about my favorite stories from With Pride.Customer Service by Eon de Beaumont is a contemporary romantic story about meeting a prospective partner at work and the difficulties that can arise from such a meeting. It was easy to relate to the narrator, a man unhappy with his job and keeping his sexuality secret from some less than open-minded co-workers. The risks he takes to make a connection are realistic, as is his apprehension. When the characters finally make love, its with both a sense of newness and wonder and a bond that one feels will last.When Angels Fall by Helen E. H. Madden is a story with a very original concept behind it. Our protagonist here has been so sexually repressed all of his life that he can hardly touch himself, let alone pursue a relationship with the man he's attracted to. Worst of all is the confusion he feels regarding the beautiful Gabriel, a sentient machine who has been his captor but who he also feels lust toward. I liked the theme of one's "programming" determining one's needs and actions, and the way the theme was echoed in the plight of both the human and robotic character.James Buchanan's Raven tells the story of Marten, who is trying his best to be an upstanding citizen, keeping his nose clean and working hard in a diner. He is no match for the temptation presented by the beautiful and mysterious Raven, though, and he soon finds out the two of them have quite a bit in common. The connection to the mythology in this story is subtle; it adds a layer of meaning without being derivative nor slowing down the action. Also, the sex is really hot, not surprising from this author. The story benefits from re-reading, as the details and allusions are hidden like treasure throughout. This was a story I enjoyed on many levels.Echoes of the Past by Mychael Black is a very short piece that packs a lot of emotion into a small amount of words. As usual, Mr. Black's prose is lovely and his insight into his characters' feelings very genuine. This story explores how one deals with loss and betrayal. It is heart-breaking and beautiful and will stay with the reader long after the story is finished.These are just a few of the great stories in With Pride. There are many more to enjoy.

View all my reviews >>

How much realism is too much in erotica?

2010-03-14T14:18:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I have something like a series that I work on from time to time when an idea occurs to me. It involves a young man who has started his own catering business and a gorgeous man who patronizes said business. The two of them become involved in a scorching, D/s love affair. The characters are great fun to write and seem well-liked by my readers. The books always sell well for me, and I'd like to revisit these guys. Even the reviews I get are positive:

This story is a fantasy BDSM scene. It's fun and hot and sexy. If you are looking for gritty realism, this is not your story, but if you like a hot power-exchange complete with a cherry red bullwhip, you'll enjoy Juicy, Melty, Fun to Share.

Augusta Li writes in a concise, descriptive style that has us seeing, feeling, tasting our way through the story. The descriptions of food will make you hungry ~ for food ~ and the descriptions of the sexual encounter between Darren and Nick will make you shivery. No, it's not a slice of real life, but it's a fun fantasy, and I recommend it for your summer beach reading!
(from Carole at Rainbow Reviews review of the first book in the series, Juicy, Melty, Fun to Share.)

Here's what she says about the sequel:

Just like Juicy, Melty, Fun to Share, this story's a BDSM fantasy. It's hot and fun and sexy, but not really realistic. Even so, Augusta Li writes such a concise, well-crafted story that we are willing to buy into the fantasy, particularly since it's sexy and fun. The descriptions are so clear that we feel we are really there: tasting, touching, smelling, feeling, as Nick and Darren try to find a level meeting ground.

I certainly won't complain about these reviews. My only question is what makes these books so unrealistic? Isn't all romance fantasy? Is it because the protagonists are too beautiful? I like beautiful people and it's highly unlikely that I'll abandon them in favor of realism. Or maybe the idea of this circle of wealthy people throwing these lavish fetish balls is the unrealistic aspect? I don't think the action or the sex deviates too far from real life, except maybe in that Darren has gorgeous, expensive, custom-made gear, which may not be the norm but is certainly not impossible.

I am about 25K into a third installment in this series, and I could use some help with this realism thing, particularly from my author friends who write m/m BDSM, or from anyone who has read these books. How can they be made more realistic without losing the fantasy and beauty? Any and all creative criticism will be appreciated!

The Star: To Light My Way

2010-02-15T11:48:00.000-08:00

After many setbacks and just bad luck, my novel To Light My Way is available from Tease. It represents the Star Card, which, among other things, symbolizes hope and gradual change. I'm very eager to see some reviews and get some reader feedback, as I'm not sure how this book will be received. It goes from being rather quiet to extremely violent at times. The characters are extremely flawed people with no choice but to put their own survival ahead of everything else.

If you've read To Light My Way, let me know what you think, good or bad. I can take it.

If not, here's a little taste:

On a remote, rural planet, simple farmer Tendzin Kha Drohma raises fruit trees. At night he watches the star that shares his name and dreams of finding a home for himself and his people, a race driven from their world, living in diaspora and nearing extinction. His dreams are abruptly interrupted when he’s captured and sold to a brothel on a distant planet. He becomes a guiding light to the cynical prostitute Tamari, and tries to nurture the fragile relationship forming between them amidst an atmosphere of degradation and abuse.

“This place,” Tendzin said softly, “What do you do here?”

At first Tamari laughed, but then, seeing Tendzin’s sincere confusion, he said, “This is a brothel. I assume I don’t have to tell you what that is?”

“No,” Tendzin whispered.

“It’s not so bad,” Tamari said, dropping his shirt and resting a hand over Tendzin’s clutching fist. “This is a classy place, and we’re expensive. Keeps the riff-raff away.”

“So,” Tendzin said, “the people who come here, do they get to choose who they want, who they want to—”

“That’s right,” Tamari said.

“And can we choose if we want to go with them?”

“No,” Tamari said, a dash of resentment tarnishing his musical voice. “We go where we’re told.”

“What if we don’t want to? What if we say no?”

“You really don’t want to do that,” Tamari said. “And it’ll do you no good. If the Gummichs and the guests want it to happen, it’s going to happen. What good will it do to get a whipping first?”

“I, don’t know if I can,” Tendzin said honestly.

“You must,” Tamari said, pausing between and articulating each word to express the seriousness. “It would be a shame to see that nice white skin all cut up. If a guest pays for your favors, you have to go with them.”

“Who gets the money?”

“Mistress Urlug.”

“Must we stand in a line while they look us over?” Tendzin asked, trying to imagine how it would feel.

With another chuckle and a squeeze of Tendzin’s hand, Tamari said, “No! It’s not like the slave market! And it’s not some five-note fuck hole either. We sit in the salon. We serve the guests wine and fruit. We sing and dance to entertain them, and then, if they’re willing to pay, we take them to our rooms. But not me, not tonight. I have some time off, thanks to you. What’s wrong now? Are you crying?” He cupped Tendzin’s chin and tilted his face upward. His hands were soft, gentle and fragrant, and the concern in his eyes authentic.

Sniffling, Tendzin tried to smile. “How much?” he asked.

“What?”

“How much are you?” Tamari was so beautiful, with his full lips the color of wet terracotta and his thick-lashed, black eyes. The prostitute looked nothing like the mechanic Jax, the only man Tendzin had ever felt an attraction to, but his soft features intrigued the Iha-Yulian as much as Jax’s rugged, dense muscle.

The other man straightened, beaming with pride. “I’m four hundred,” he said.

“And, me?”

“Up to the mistress. But probably at least three, as pretty as you are. Maybe more, since Iha-Yulians are so scarce. You’re the only one I’ve ever seen.”

The fact that Tamari recognized Tendzin’s ancestry made less of an impression than the word ‘pretty,’ and the Iha-Yulian felt the stinging heat on the apples of his cheeks.

“Shall we bathe now?” Tamari asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Tendzin said. “For showing me around.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s easier work than being on my knees, right?”

“Right,” Tendzin agreed, though he couldn’t understand how Tamari could make jokes about being forced to pleasure anyone with a handful of notes. He supposed he would soon find out; though the idea of kneeling down in front of a customer made him feel like he’d throw up.

Oblivious to Tendzin’s internal distress, Tamari stepped out of his loose pants and turned on all three showers. The streams converged at a point in the center, over a round drain. Tamari stepped to that point and moaned with satisfaction as the hot water pelted his body. A cloud of steam enveloped him as he lifted his arms to wash underneath them.

Tendzin could only stare. He’d never seen a man like Tamari, so well-proportioned, lithe but strong. He watched Tamari’s muscles, enhanced by the water, stretch, contract, pull and play against one another as he reached, bent and twisted to wash. Though the prostitute was impeccably groomed, from his shaped eyebrows to his hairless body, oiled calves and neatly-trimmed toenails, there was nothing feminine about him. All the men back home had been farmers: little concerned with primping, covered in bulging, rather than graceful, muscle, hairy and often dirty. They’d shaped Tendzin’s notions of masculinity; he’d never imagined there could be such a dazzling paradox.

Something else distinguished Tamari from others Tendzin had seen: a triangular patch of sepia, swirling markings extending from just below his belly button to his pubic bone. The interlocking spirals and whorls reminded Tendzin of the decoration on the pages of very old books, those ancient relics still made from sheets of wood pulp. The twirled ends of the marks stopped halfway down Tamari’s cock, which, Tendzin couldn’t help noting, was fine and long, but not too thick. More scrollwork decorated Tamari’s inner thighs. When he turned to rinse his face, Tendzin saw that it also meandered from his tailbone up his spine, fading to nothing at the base of his shoulder blades. Tendzin didn’t think the marks could be tattoos; they looked too organic.

“Come on,” Tamari called, over the hiss and patter of the water. “Hurry up. We won’t have the place to ourselves for long. And it gets horribly crowded with all the girls trying to get ready. Let’s get washed up while we don’t have to wrestle for a bottle of shampoo.”

“What should I do with my clothes?” Tendzin asked.

“Those rags? Throw them away!”

Reluctant to comply, Tendzin realized his hands still twisted around the hem of his shirt. He let go and whisked the shirt over his head. These garments were the only thing he had left of his former life, and though they were plain and dirty, he didn’t want to give them up. So he folded the shirt and set it on a shelf. His shoes he placed against the wall, where they wouldn’t get wet. Then, shaking, trying not to watch Tamari, who’d taken a break from scrubbing his golden-brown skin, Tendzin hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, pulled them to his ankles, and stepped out.

The angle of the water jets compelled Tendzin to stand very close to Tamari. He could smell the other man’s moist skin and hair. He tried not to face Tamari nor look at him, even in his peripheral vision. Though he wanted to look, stare even, his upbringing had taught him that such a thing would be improper. Also, Tendzin’s attraction to the prostitute frightened him. He worried that his body might betray him and demonstrate his feelings in an undeniable way. So new to this environment, he couldn’t know if this man he’d just met might be angry or offended. Thus far, Tamari had been kind. Tamari was the closest thing Tendzin had to a friend, and he didn’t want to shatter the at least amiable relationship.

As Tendzin scrubbed his back with the brush the other man handed him, as he soaped his body and washed his hair, his shoulders and elbows brushed Tamari’s skin, Tamari’s soft arms, the small of his back, even his ass. He felt like wet silk. Each time Tendzin muttered an apology and moved as far away as he could while still standing under the shower. Moths fluttered again. As he’d feared, the blood rushed to his cock and it hardened, bouncing with his hectic heartbeat. Terror-stricken, he stepped out of the water, hoping a blast of cold might douse his erection. But steam had filled the room with warm fog. He tried to think of something else, but his mind returned to Tamari, wet and naked behind him, his imagination filling in the details that he denied his eyes.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled.

“For what?”

To Tendzin’s horror, Tamari’s hand closed around his shoulder and urged him to turn. He covered himself with his hands, but not in time.

“Oh,” Tamari said, glancing down and smiling. His hair hung in shiny black ribbons over his chest, and his bangs were wet fronds reaching to his eyelashes, dripping water down his cheeks, down his neck. Rivulets ran over his body, following the dips and protrusions of his form, accentuating his slightest movement. Head down, Tendzin’s eyes lit upon the markings below Tamari’s belly button. He hadn’t noticed the gold ring in the other man’s navel, nor how complex and beautiful his ornate skin looked close-up. Inevitably his gaze strayed lower. Water dripped from the end of Tamari’s penis. His shaved and speckled balls crowded close to his body, the raised pores and central seam prominent.

Tamari took a step nearer, and Tendzin didn’t retreat. Mere inches separated their flat bellies, separated Tendzin’s knuckles from Tamari’s darkened, half-erect shaft. Leaning in with just his head, stretching his neck so his nose parted the hair over Tendzin’s ear, Tamari asked, “Do you like me?”

“I, I was just noticing those patterns on your skin,” Tendzin said, changing the subject. “How were they made?”

Looking down, tracing the paisley design with his fingertip, Tamari said, “I’m a K’Mer.”

“I don’t know what that means, Tamari.”

“It’s my race. We all have these.” He wiped his stomach with his hand, stretching the skin, pulling on his scrotum and cock.

Tendzin drew a halting breath.

“If I were to go back home, one of the K’Mer priestesses could read these marks and tell me about my family generations back. It’s kind of our history on our skin. Some K’Mer say they tell one’s future destiny, but I think that’s just an old superstition.” He looked up then, into Tendzin’s astonished eyes, and said “Do you like them?”

Tendzin followed the lean lines of Tamari’s arms to where his hands, palms flat and thumbs outstretched, formed a triangular frame around his birth marks. His clear nails grazed the base of his cock.

Nodding, Tendzin said, “I like them. They’re beautiful.”

“Touch them,” Tamari said.

When the Iha-Yulian hesitated, the K’Mer took his wrist. Tamari guided Tendzin’s ivory hand to his embellished, brown stomach and pressed their skins together. Tendzin felt the rhythmic swish of Tamari’s pulse. He looked into Tamari’s dark eyes, shining from behind gaps in his fringe. Tamari smiled, and Tendzin smiled back. Each took a step forward and their bodies met with Tendzin’s hand trapped between. Tamari reached to the side and turned the shower off. So much moisture hung in the air that it weighed warm and heavy against them.

“You haven’t had much experience, have you?” Tamari asked, petting Tendzin’s cheeks, smoothing away his silver hair.

Self-conscious and unsure again, Tendzin said, “I haven’t had any. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ll teach you.”

“All right.”

“What have you done before?”

“Nothing,” Tendzin said. “Not even kissing.”

“Then let’s start there.”

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-tolightmywaythestarcard-374693-140.html

Tree Fingers Reviews!

2010-02-08T18:09:00.000-08:00

Okay, these make me happy because I wasn't sure how me and Eon's short story would be received. For one thing, I've noticed a lot of romance readers don't care for horror elements (not that I necessarily consider our work "romance," but that's another blog). Also, I'll be the first to admit that the story's just kind of bizarre. It was practically impossible to summarize in a blurb without either giving everything away or making it sound like a cliche horror story. The critics seem to like it, though:

This one from Whipped Cream Reviews:

Some play with fire, other’s play with nature. Then there are those who play with the occult. What do you think could happen if you reveal things about the other side that shouldn’t be messed with? You better know how to clean up your messes.

Sound interesting? Then you need to read Tree Fingers.

What does a tree have to do with an erotic male/male romance? Plenty. I liked how the authors entwined sweet love and the dangers of the occult into a story that kept me in my seat until far after the last page.

Now this story deals with the idea that curiosity killed the cat. Graham is an artist who is afraid to love again because his former lover passed away. When he meets Alan, he’s smitten, but unsure. Who hasn’t felt that way? You see the person you need, but are fearful to try again. It’s a normal human trait and powerful in this story. But what about Alan? He’s a fact junkie. Once he finds something he’s interested in, he digs in with ferocity. I know many people with the same need. One book isn’t enough—he has to read them all.

I liked that Alan wants more than anything to be loved by Graham. Who wouldn’t? Graham is a handsome guy. There came a few times when I wanted to slug Alan for his decisions, but you have to take them in context. One man wants acceptance, while the other doesn’t know how to give it. That’s pretty powerful stuff. And when they finally make love (yes, they make love – not mere sex), it knocks you on your hind end. You feel the blossoming passion and root for them to make it a permanent relationship.

If you want a sweet romance with dark undertones that’s filled with passion and intrigue, then you need to read Tree Fingers. You won’t want to miss it. I give this story 3.5 cherries.

http://whippedcream2.blogspot.com/2010/02/tree-fingers-by-augusta-li-and-eon-de.html?zx=eb3069ac4fb77444

And from Rainbow Reviews, 5 stars!!

I'm a big fan of short stories, and a big fan of urban fantasy, but they're not always the easiest of bedfellows. Tree Fingers, however, manages the mix perfectly, neither skipping over nor getting bogged down in world building. The result is a fantastic Halloween story, with a pair of really engaging, compelling protagonists, and a creepy ~ and original ~ twist.
The authors also get an 'OMG, thank you!' prize ~ I can't tell you how refreshing it is to have someone discover that their partner has done something a) crazy b) dangerous that c) they'd agreed not to do, but all for love, and for their reaction to be 'you did what?!' rather than 'that's so romantic'!
This is a real treat of a story.

http://www.rainbow-reviews.com

Thanks to the reviewers!
Buy Tree Fingers here: http://www.king-cart.com/Phaze/product=Tree+Fingers/exact_match=exact

Post-Halloween

2009-11-03T12:43:00.000-08:00

So, I woke up a little hungover on November first, and went out to the porch to check the mail. The park across the street from my house, which had been beautiful with red and yellow foliage only recently, looked grey and bare.

Later, I went to buy some food for my turtles and the stores had already decorated for Christmas! This is just too much for me. I thought Christmas shopping season started the day after Thanksgiving, not Halloween! Its just ridiculous how corporate greed is completely ruing the season. I mean, how can it be a special occassion if it lasts three months? Summer lasts three months! I'm not a Christian or anything, and don't necessarily assign any religous significance to the holiday, but I do enjoy the snow and sparkly light, hot chocolate, a nice fire, and seeing family and friends that live far away. I want it to feel special, but retail establishments whoring it out to this degree and for this long completely sucks the magic out of it.

I'm disgusted. I want it to be Halloween some more.

Anyhow, here's the real life Tree Fingers built by me and Eon. He stands in my yard to terrify the children of the neighborhood. Eon says I should leave him up year round. He inspired our erotic/horror novella by the same name. You can check that one out here:
http://www.king-cart.com/Phaze/product=Tree+Fingers/exact_match=exact

2009-10-21T17:13:00.001-07:00

Check me out! I'm on here!