The Sevion Brotherhood

The Sevion Brotherhood
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Friday, September 12, 2014

Thursday Pimping: Zee Kensington's Finally Home

Sorry this post is late all! I got extremely sick (still am actually) and then we moved into a new house but I'm glad Zee contacted me! Here it is! Your Thursday Pimping... On a FRIDAY!

Take it away Zee!

We’ll Always Have Bangkok

The thrill of travel romance is in its fleeting nature. Its transience adds urgency, making lust burn hotteremotions run deeperEvery shared experience becomes a bit more meaningful, whether it’s feeding each other in a hole-in-the-wall noodle joint, or standing crushed chest-to-chest in a sweltering Skytrain car.

What happens, though, when you get home and you can’t put your feelings away as easily as your luggage? Your memories of the adventure are so intimately entwined with your short, sweet romance you can’t disentangle them. A bite of take-out noodles reminds you of the tenderness of your lover’s kiss, and your next crowded subway commute has you unconsciously looking around for a traveling companion who isn’t there. You’re officially obsessed.

It’s that obsession that first drives novice backpacker Marco and seasoned travel writer Chris—the protagonists of Finally Home—to reunite again. After the adventures they began in my short story, Krung Thep, City of Angels, Marco and Chris formed a bond that wasn’easily left behind at the customs desk at Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi airport.

Three months later they’re still thinking of each other, separately trying to move on. Chris, who’s used to drifting from place to place—and person to person—decides it’s time to “get Marco out of his system” when a change in writing assignment lands him in Marco’s hometown of Los AngelesAs for Marco, he’s just thrilled to have his friend, confidant, and first real lover back, even if only for a few days.

Reunion’s not as simple as boarding a plane, though, as Marco and Chris are quick to discover. Sure, there’s the joy of being together again, the fun of remembering the good times, and the scorching hot sex. But, vacation is over and there’s the real world to deal with, full of career woes, family drama, and personal doubts. Not to mention, the question lurking in the back of their minds: Is this relationship just a fun little romp, or do we have something real?

Can a fiery, ephemeral travel romance burn down into the steady flame of commitment? Or will it loose its heat, guttering out when the winds of reality blow their hardest?    


Marco swore quietly as a triangular yellow bird sailed far above the rickety wooden structure filling his smartphone screen, making the tiny green pigs inside snicker. He wasn’t very good at this dumb game, and his jitters didn’t help.


He kept looking up every few seconds, scouring the steady stream of travelers trickling into the cavernous greeting area of LAX’s international terminal. Marco felt like he was waiting in the bowels of a spaceship, with the ring of lights hovering above and the panels of cobalt light lining the wall. In a place like this, it seemed more likely that little green men would materialize than Chris would actually show up.


He still couldn’t believe this was really happening. Up until a few days ago, Marco had been sure he’d never see Chris again. It wasn’t even until he’d gotten the flight itinerary e-mailed to him that Marco truly let himself believe that his wildest wish was coming true. Since then, he’d barely been able to eat or sleep, and he’d been a downright space cadet at work.


Marco sighed and gave up on the game. Leaning back in his chair, he checked the time again before pocketing his smartphone: 2:47 p.m. Chris’s plane had landed about thirty-seven minutes ago. Give him about ten to get off the plane, then ten more to walk the terminal, then who knew how long it would take him to clear immigration, baggage, and customs.


Anticipation squeezed Marco’s heart as his eye caught a man with an unruly mop of blond hair appear over the barrier separating the guests from the travelers. He tried to calm himself. This had happened twice already, and neither time had it been Chris. But then a familiar—albeit tired—face appeared as its owner climbed up the ramp, and Marco’s stomach lurched with excitement. At long last, Chris was here.


“Chris!” Marco called out, leaning as far over the wall as he dared.


Chris’s head whipped around at the sound, and a deadly grin lit up his weary face. The butterflies in Marco’s belly became dragonflies, buffeting madly around inside him. His knees quavered as he stepped back from the barrier to meet Chris as soon as he crossed the invisible threshold that separated the terminal from the waiting area.


Marco licked his lips nervously as Chris approached him. He had forgotten how much more mature-looking Chris was than him. Chris looked every inch the seasoned travel journalist, with his scruffy laptop satchel slung casually over one shoulder and his roller bag stuttering behind him on three wheels.


Marco’s doubts faded, though, when he saw the glint of gold from the open collar of Chris’s black shirt.


All these months later, Chris was still wearing the amulet Marco had given him.


“Hey,” Chris said softly as he brought his suitcase to a stop beside him. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and his skin had gone pallid from being trapped inside a plane for too long, but he was still every bit as handsome as Marco remembered.


“Hey,” Marco said, just as quietly. He had imagined this scene a thousand times. In his mind, he went flying into Chris’s arms, scattering baggage everywhere as Chris enveloped him, their lips meeting in a fiery kiss. Reality was a very different thing, though, and nervousness gnawed at the edges of Marco’s elation.


All these people… if I were to kiss Chris here, would they stare? Would they get angry? What if someone recognizes me?


Chris extended a friendly hand. “It’s good to see you, man.”


“Yeah. Good to see you, too.” Marco took the offered hand, feeling an odd mixture of disappointment and relief. After all this time, this was their reunion? Perhaps it had been foolish of him to hope for more. Three months was a long time, and who knew how Chris’s feelings may have changed. Perhaps Marco was nothing more than a friend to him, a casual travel romance that had ended on Marco’s departure date.


Marco felt Chris’s eyes boring into him. He looked up to meet the azure gaze, and his breath caught as he saw the roguish glint cutting through the caution in the ice blue.


“C’mere, you,” Chris murmured, and pulled Marco into tight embrace.


This close, Marco could practically feel Chris’s heart thundering against his chest, giving away the depth of emotion simmering just under Chris’s cool exterior. Marco buried his face in the crook of Chris’s lean neck, breathing in deep. The spicy, sweaty smell rocketed him back in time, and suddenly he was back in Thailand, nestled against Chris’s hard body, a feeling of deep satisfaction saturating him to the core.


At long last, Marco was home.


“Careful,” Chris chuckled, “I haven’t had a chance to shower all day.”


“I don’t care,” Marco said, his words muffled in Chris’s hair. “You smell perfect.”


“You have a funny idea of perfect.”


Chris gently extracted himself, though he didn’t let go of one of Marco’s biceps. His eyebrow raised, and he took another squeeze before fixing Marco with a look that turned his insides to liquid. “Goddamn, kid, you look even better than when you left!”


Marco shrugged, a pleased flush crossing his face. He’d added weights to his daily swimming routine, trying to hold on to the backpacker’s physique he’d earned by trekking in Thailand’s tropical heat. Though he’d never been able to bulk up like his construction-working cousins, he was still pleased with the definition he’d chiseled out of his lean muscles.


“Thanks,” Marco said shyly. “You’re looking pretty good yourself.”


Chris rolled his eyes, though Marco didn’t miss the hint of red that blossomed on his cheeks.


“Mexico made me soft, man. Every taco I ate went straight here.”


Chris let go of Marco to slap his perfectly flat stomach. Marco remembered the lean taper of Chris’s waist, his abdomen decorated with a sparse trail of golden curls that led down from his navel to that tantalizing nexus of flesh….


“Um.” Marco closed his eyes, forcing himself to clear the image of naked Chris from his mind. “Speaking of food, are you hungry?”


Marco opened his eyes, and found Chris grinning at him wolfishly, as if he’d plucked the dirty thoughts from Marco’s mind. Marco flushed even deeper, but he didn’t miss the eager gleam in Chris’s eyes.


“Yeah, I could eat.

Finally Home
A novel about family, identity, and finding one’s way back home.

by Zee Kensington

About the Book

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: August 29, 2014

Length: 206 pages

 eBook: 978-1-62798-907-7Paperback: 978-1-62798-906-0
 categoriescontemporary, M/M, erotic, romance
A novel about family, identity, and finding one’s way back home.

Short Synopsis

When novice backpacker Marco and seasoned travel writer Chris parted ways in Bangkok, they thought it was the end of theirsummer romance. Three months later, though, a change ofassignment reunites Chris and Marco, and the pair embarks on an adventure greater than ten days trekking through Thailand—forming a real relationship amid family drama, coming out fears, career woes, and personal demons.


After one night in Bangkok turned into ten days trekking together, novice backpacker Marco and seasoned travel writer Chris parted ways thinking they’d never see each other again. Three months later, Marco still can’t forget the greatest adventure of his life—or the gorgeous guy he shared it with. Too afraid to come out to his family, Marco is suffocating in his suburban Southern California life, until Chris announces he’s coming to LA.

Chris has spent the past four years wandering alone, rebuilding himself from the ashes of a failed journalism career. He arrives in Los Angeles eager to eat, write, and resume the sexy, casual fun he had enjoyed with Marco. But when Chris finds his friend is a terrified closet-case at home, he’s determined to help Marco confront his fears.

Priorities change when Chris’s father suffers a stroke, and Chris rushes to New York City to face a harsh homecoming with the family he abandoned. When Marco defies his parents to be at Chris’s side, Chris begins to realize there may be more to their relationship than just work and play, and that Marco may be the one to show Chris what it means to finally be home.

Purchasing Information
Dreamspinner Press eBook:

Dreamspinner Press paperback:


Author Information


Zee Kensington discovered a passion for writing erotica in her freshman year of college, and has been crafting sweet and sexy stories ever since. Inspired by her years working and playing in San Francisco’s LGBT community, she is especially drawn to tales that explore the joys and challenges of queer identities.

An almost-native Californian and a card-carrying geek, she currently lives in the SF Bay Area with her husband and toddler. When she’s not writing or catching up on her sleep she enjoys watching films, playing video games, experimenting in her kitchen, and dreaming of the day her son is old enough to travel the world with her.

Author Links





Dreamspinner Press author page:

Amazon author page:


Blog Tour and Giveaway Information

Blog Tour Dates

Also available online:

August 29:
 Dreamspinner Press Blog Party

August 29: MM Good Book Reviews

September 1: Allison Cassatta

September 2: The Novel Approach

September 3: Charlie Cochet’s Purple Rose Tea House

September 4: Cup o’ Porn

September 7: LIVE Facebook Chat with Dreamspinner Press

September 8: Prism Book Alliance

September 10: Guys Like Romance, Too

September 11: Vicktor Alexander’s Purple Fantasy Den

September 12: Zee Kensington (home blog)–Giveaway winner reveal



Blog tour-wide giveaway (August 29-September 12) for an autographed book bundle of Finally Home and Two Tickets to Paradise.

Rafflecopter Link

<a id="rc-45c60c2a1" class="rafl" href="" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>

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Monday, September 1, 2014

M-o-M: Man-oh-Man Monday with Andrea Speed: Now Voyager?

So I have decided to devote Mondays back to Man-oh-Man Mondays, but I have decided to get some author friends involved.

Every Monday I will have either guest authors, or myself writing short flash fiction pieces based on pictures sent to them, the week before.

Fun, right?

I think so.

So to kick it off, our first author in the hot seat is: ANDREA SPEED!

Here are the pictures sent to Andrea:

Picture 1

Picture 2

Now, Voyager? 
Copyright©  2014 by Andrea Speed. All Rights Reserved.

“Rift in fifty five seconds,” Tad announced. Today he was trying on a British accent, which made him seem extra ridiculous.

“I got it, okay? I can’t go any faster than I’m going,” Alex said, pausing to take a breath. He did the thing you weren’t supposed to do, he looked down, and he saw he was maybe ten feet up the tree at most. Goddamn it, how could he be this out of shape? Alex had been running around dimensions for … well, at least a week now, at least as he knew time. In some of these dimensions, time ran faster or slower, so gauging time was a tricky proposition at best.

As he brushed bark off his hands, and looked up towards the tree’s thickest branch, he tried to remember what he’d been doing a week ago, before all of this. Probably cleaning out some pipes, and no, that wasn’t a euphemism. Alex was a plumber, and maybe he still was, although he felt scrambled, discombobulated, and otherwise out of sorts, like he’d contracted some form of dimensional jet lag. All he’d done was met this cute guy at the bar and gone home with him, that’s it. In retrospect, he should have paid more attention to what the guy was saying, instead of being distracted by his sleepy brown eyes and really nice ass.

Having had time to go over it all in his mind, Alex recalled the guy, Sanjay, telling him he was an experimental engineer. He should have known that was a nice way of saying mad scientist. Alex also knew he should have looked more closely while getting dressed, because he grabbed a watch that he thought was his, but turned out to be this talking, annoying little machine, that told him when and where dimensional anomalies would be showing up. Dimensional anomalies were random, but the watch – that insisted its name was Tad Pi (standing for Time and Dimensional Position Indicator)- could predict them with about a half hour or fifteen seconds to spare, because it wasn’t a precise science. Alex had simply been walking out of Sanjay’s apartment building when he heard a voice (then Tad was playing around with an Iranian accent) announce something, but since it was in his pocket instead of on his wrist, he just heard the voice and not the words. When he stopped, he pulled out his phone first, thinking someone had called him. But since his phone was off, he pulled out the watch as it said, “Dimensional rift here, one point five seconds.”

Alex had time to realize that this watch wasn’t his, and also, probably not a watch, a millisecond before he was swallowed by light, and spit out in a patch of weeds by the side of a road in what may have been Turkmenistan. Since he only stayed twenty minutes, he had no idea what the people of that dimension called it, but that was okay, as he couldn’t have talked to the populace anyways. It looked like that dimension was peopled by bipedal, six foot tall lobsters.

From what Tad had told him, the watch was actually an attempt at a time machine, although it got that wrong. What it got right was dimensional travel, which was apparently possible, due to … oh hell, Alex didn’t know. Tad had used lots of polysyllabic words and physics terms Alex may or may not have heard used in the occasional Star Trek: The Next Generation episode. He was a plumber. He didn’t do quantum mechanics, just regular mechanics.

Dimensional rifts moved around, and were open for a very limited amount of time. Tad could detect them (something something tachyons, something something molecular displacement), but he couldn’t tell him where these rifts led, which had led to Alex hop-scotching around dimensions like a tourist with a major case of ADD and several different standing warrants. Sometimes he could stay a day in another dimension, sometimes only a couple of minutes, but the one good thing he’d learned was dimensional rifts had a tendency to recur around the same general area. Whatever caused them to happen was generally localized, as if dimensional fibers developed worn spots. (Which may have been the case. Tad never said anything he couldn’t complicate with excessive verbiage.) Right now, the search for dimensional rifts had him climbing a tree, as this rift was, of course, in mid-air. It wasn’t always easy.

He’d been to at least a dozen dimensions by now, but not yet the Earth he remembered. Tad said the chance of this happening was slim, but still probable. Unless the “infinite universes” theory was correct, then he was screwed. But he had to keep trying. Mainly because, as cute as he was, he was so going to kick Sanjay’s ass over this when he saw him again.

Finally, Alex hauled himself up onto the thickest branch, and saw a multicolor swirl of energy out of the corner of his eye. Technically, dimensional rifts were not visible to the naked eye, but Tad had said he’d accumulated enough … something something tachyon particles, and could kind of be aware of them. Not as well as Tad, but maybe, if he did this a million times, he could. And frankly he’d be kind of happy, because more than once he’d dreamed of taking a hammer to Tad. “Twenty two seconds,” Tad reminded him.

“Could you please knock it off with the accents?” Yesterday he’s tried a Chinese one, and it sounded vaguely racist, even though Alex would hope that no artificial intelligence could actually be racist. According to Tad, that was impossible, because “all humans are meat sacks”. Which seemed racist in a new, uncomfortable way.

“Hey, I have to keep it fun for me, mate,” Tad said, his accent thicker than ever. Alex had no idea artificial intelligence had increased to the point where it could deliberately annoy people. Yaay technology?

Tad shot out a beam of ultraviolet light, which caused the dimensional rift to flare to visible light, a rainbow of swirling energy around a void that somehow seemed deeper than black. It wasn’t just an absence of light, but an absence of everything.

Alex stood on the branch, took a shaky deep breath, and then jumped forward, heading for the hovering rift a foot below him. He was scared as he always was, but the light embraced him like an old friend.

Maybe one of these days, he’d return home for good.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Thursday Pimping: The Nesting Habits of Strange Birds by Charley Descoteaux

The Nesting Habits of Strange Birds by Charley Descoteaux


All he ever wanted was to be a normal guy….

Phil Brask spends his days in the basement of his mentor's Victorian home, converting legal documents into electronic format. When the pipe feeding the water heater bursts, Lee Redding arrives in the plumber’s truck and draws Phil away from the narrow focus of his computer and camera lens. Lee gives Phil hope for a life beyond the walls he’s constructed using the nesting habits of migratory birds and dense legal files, a guided tour through a world filled with romance and music…maybe even family. But there’s a reason Phil retreated behind those walls, why he panics at a simple touch.

Lee has a good life—working with his uncle and on his mother’s farm, playing bass in a horrible metal band, and hooking up when he pleases—but he’s always suspected something was missing. When he meets the hot photographer with the icy-blue eyes, he knows exactly what that something is. Phil isn’t like other guys, but neither is Lee beneath his carefree exterior. Maybe Lee's the perfect guy to show Phil that everything doesn’t have to be done the hard way and "home" isn't a four-letter word.


LEE CALLED early Sunday morning. Phil was still in bed while he listened to Lee say his Uncle Lenny called him in to work—at double time—on an emergency job in a church basement.

“Do you have any plans for next weekend?”

Phil smiled. He didn’t even have any plans for breakfast. “No.”

“How about if I pick you up and we head out to my mom’s place?”

Phil’s stomach shivered. Meet his mom? Phil barely remembered his own mother. Among the things that had survived the sixteen years since he’d last seen her were that she had red hair and called him Phillip Anthony.

A car door slammed in Phil’s ear and brought his mind back to the present. He had no idea what Lee expected him to say and panic licked at his heels.

“Um, I kind of wanted to ask you a favor.” Lee’s car started, the familiar rattling of the engine helped Phil relax.


“Don’t you want to know what it is first?”

Phil shrugged but then remembered Lee couldn’t see. It didn’t really matter, though. Whatever it was, he wanted to do it. “O-okay.”

“Well, two of the restaurants she sells herbs to have closed in the past few weeks. She thinks she doesn’t need to advertise, but I think if you could get some good pictures of the herbs and her place, then Heidi could design some flyers or ads or whatever.”

Traffic sounds and honking disturbed Phil’s enjoyment of listening to Lee’s voice while he lounged in bed. Sunshine streamed though they wouldn’t be spending the day together—Lee had thought of him. The day was off to a good start.

“S-sure, just let me know what time. You need to hang up now before you get in an accident. Jerry doesn’t handle p-personal injury cases, so you’d be left to the whims of f-fate.”

Lee chuckled and Phil’s lips tingled in response.

“I’ll call you later. Have a good day, Phil.”

“Y-you too. Lee.”

Phil dropped his phone and hugged his pillow. He had plans for next weekend. With Lee. He’d never been to a farm before—he’d seen them alongside Highway 26, but it still seemed like farms belonged to another era. Still, the prospect of taking pictures in a completely new place—for Lee—wiped away all but the tiniest bit of his fear that Lee’s mom would hate the idea of some strange guy messing around on her property, taking pictures of her plants.

That would take even longer than the heron-watching expedition. And it would probably be chaste. It was his mom’s place, and he had a little sister who lived there, so they wouldn’t be alone. Phil was surprised to realize he was disappointed.

Buy The Nesting Habits of Strange Birds



Charley Descoteaux has always heard voices. She was relieved to learn they were fictional characters, and started writing when they insisted daydreaming just wasn’t good enough.  In exchange, they let her sleep once in a while. Home is Portland, Oregon, where the weather is like your favorite hard-case writing buddy who won’t let you get away with taking too many days off, and in some places you can be as weird as you are without fear.  As an out and proud bisexual and life-long weird-o, she thinks that last part is pretty cool.

Rattle my cages:

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Create The Story Contest Winner

Congratulations Kim Tyler! You are the winner of the Create the Story Contest!! As soon as you make your donation to the St. Jude's Children's Hospital and send your confirmation to we can begin talking about the story that you want me to write.


Thursday, August 14, 2014

Rose By Any Other Name by Charlie Cochet Cover Reveal

A Rose by Any Other Name
by Charlie Cochet
Genre: M/M historical romance, 1920s
Length: Novel, 270 pages
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Nights in the roaring city remind bright young things that life’s too short to take for granted. Tucked away in Times Square hides the Pantheon: a secret cabaret for wealthy gay men. Pretty young men in elaborate costumes and rouged lips are eager to please, and the champagne flows all night long. It’s a world of frivolity, fantasy, and debauchery. As Eros, the most sought after performer at the Pantheon, Julius uses his beauty and charm on enthusiastic patrons, but growing weary of superficial love, he longs to make a better life for himself.
Five years after being declared mentally unfit after surviving the trenches of No Man’s Land, Edward Joseph Clarence Junior pieced his shattered life back together. Now he’s ready to take on the family empire. To celebrate his thirtieth birthday, Edward’s cousin takes him to the most posh nightclub in town, the Pantheon. Falling under the sway of Eros, Edward and Julius find a love they’ve never imagined and the chance for a future they had only dared to dream about. But as Ares, a notorious gangster and Julius’s most important—and dangerous— client watches them, the threat to their love and their lives grows by the day.
Pre-order from Dreamspinner Press in eBook and Paperback
Available September 12th, 2014
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you two for—” Eros stopped in his tracks and stared at Edward. “You’re here. Again.”
Edward stood and took Eros’s hand, giving it a kiss. “I thought maybe after the second or third night you would have believed me.” The young man looked absolutely stunning as always, the gold cloth wrapped low on his slim hips working a now familiar magic.
Eros wasted no time in removing his hand from Edward’s grasp. “What reason do I have to believe someone who broke into my dressing room and then lied to me about who he was?”
Well, this was certainly news to him. “I said I was an executive for Clarence and Company Department Stores, which I am.”
Eros leaned toward him, his voice lowered. “You seemed to have conveniently left out the tiny detail concerning you also being heir to the Clarence and Company multimillion dollar fortune.”
“Does it matter?” It wasn’t as though Edward wished to go about advertising his wealth, but he wouldn’t have thought Eros had any reason to be discreet about it.
“Does it—?” Eros shook his head and let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t have time for this.”
Perhaps it was time for Edward to get to the heart of the matter and the reason why Eros was doing his best to avoid Edward to the point of being brazen with him when every chorus boy, cupid, and Ancient Greek deity seemed to be in a constant state of frenzy each night in the hopes of roping themselves a wealthy patron.
“Have I done something to offend you?” Edward took hold of Eros’s hand again, refusing to let it go. After the second tug, Eros let out a sigh and left his hand in Edward’s grip. Eros was absolutely enchanting, even when he was irritated.
“No, nothing. I apologize.”
Then it struck him. How could he not have seen it? He’d been looking at this all wrong. The thought had Edward smiling from ear to ear. “It’s not me you’re upset with, is it? You’re upset with yourself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eros scoffed. “I happen to be quite fond of myself.”
“You were hoping I’d be here.”
Eros tugged at his hand again. “Well, aren’t we sure of ourselves. For Pete’s sake, would you let go of my hand?”
“You’ve been curious about me since we met. Only now you know the extent of my wealth, you feel threatened. You believe I’ll be no better than the others, wanting nothing more from you than what I pay for, and it’s disappointed you.”
Eros narrowed his eyes at him, at which point Edward promptly let go of his hand. For a love God, Eros certainly had one hell of a murderous glare. Edward was pushing his luck, but he went with his gut feeling.
“Edward, if I felt threatened by a man’s wealth, I would hardly be in this line of work. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. I feel empowered.”
Eros closed the distance between them and ran his hands slowly up Edward’s chest, over his shoulders, and down his back, smiling triumphantly when Edward gave a start at the feel of Eros’s fingers digging into his backside.
“You see, you may have wealth, but I have the power to take it away.”
Eros gave a low, sultry moan before running his tongue over his bottom lip. Pressing himself against Edward, one hand discreetly moved around the front to grip Edward through his trousers. Edward shut his eyes, willing himself to breathe.
“I can feel how hard you’re getting, Edward. Don’t play games with me, or I will make you wish you never set foot in here. Do you think I haven’t come across men like you before?”
His hand slowly started to stroke Edward through his trousers.
“Jesus,” Edward breathed, his hands going to Eros’s shoulders. He had to put a stop to this madness. It was clear Eros was willing to take this as far as he needed to in order to get his point across, and Edward was foolish enough to stand here and let him.
“Honey-sweet words mean little to me, Edward. Do you know how many men have offered to whisk me away from my filthy, devious life? Put me up in some Fifth Avenue penthouse, pay me an allowance, and give me anything I wish for? Do you want to make me your personal whore?”
Edward gently pushed Eros away, drawing a look of surprise from him. “Enough. I neither believe so little of you nor of myself. I won’t have my character insulted. If you have the power to take my wealth as you say you do, why didn’t you take it? You saw how eager I was, yet you continually push me away.”
“You turned him away?” Pothos asked, gaping at Eros.
“Of course not.” Eros lifted his chin defiantly and took a step back. “He stated he would make an arrangement with Aphrodite, and I didn’t object.”
“Only after I refused to leave,” Edward reminded him. “You had ample opportunity to take what you wanted from me, yet all you wanted was for me to leave. Why? What are you afraid of?”
Eros rolled his eyes. “Being bored to death. Honestly, why aren’t you doing Vaudeville with your act? I choose my clients, Edward, and I didn’t choose you. Your bruised ego will simply have to get over it. Now if you will excuse me.”
“Why haven’t you told anyone else who I am? Do you refuse to share me, or are you protecting me?” Edward held back a smile when Eros spun around and marched back to poke him in the chest.
“You seem to have developed this ridiculous notion I care about what you do, Edward. I haven’t spoken of it to anyone as it’s not my place to do so. I pride myself on my discretion and integrity. However, if you wish to announce your wealth to the whole damned club, be my guest! And you’re right; you aren’t like the others, because no one is as infuriating as you are!”
Eros threw his arms up in frustration and stormed off.
“Did I mention you look stunning when you’re angry?” Edward called after him.
Eros grabbed a champagne glass off a passing waiter’s tray and hurled it at Edward. “Go fly a kite!”
With a laugh, Edward managed to jump out of the way in the nick of time, the glass shattering on the floor where he’d been standing. By the time he looked up, Eros was nowhere in sight.
“I think he likes me.”
About the author
CCochet100Charlie Cochet is an author by day and artist by night. Always quick to succumb to the whispers of her wayward muse, no star is out of reach when following her passion. From Historical to Fantasy, Contemporary to Science Fiction, there’s bound to be plenty of mischief for her heroes to find themselves in, and plenty of romance, too!
Currently residing in South Florida, Charlie looks forward to migrating to a land where the weather includes seasons other than hot, hotter, and boy, it’s hot! When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found reading, drawing, or watching movies. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.

Charlie's Website facebook twitter pinterest goodreads tumblr Charlie's Amazon Page Charlie's Dreamspinner Page

Thursday Pimping: That You Are Here Blog Tour


by Meredith Allard



On the outside, handsome, successful attorney Andrew Whittaker has everything in life. On the inside, he has everything too, only he doesn't know it. He hides the love of his life, Mark Bryce, from his family and everyone else where he lives in Portland, Oregon. Soon the weight of the secret becomes too much for Andrew. After wrestling with himself and his place in the world, he must decide how he’s going to live—with or without Mark.



Andrew’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He put his lunch bag on the counter, nodding at the message from Lisa Bloom, his secretary. He scanned his e-mails and grimaced at the phone. “I have to go.” He left at a sprint through the kitchen door to his silver Mercedes in the attached one-car garage. He didn’t even like the car, but that’s what the senior partners at his firm drove, so that’s what he drove too. Andrew opened the garage door, got into the driver’s seat, slid the key into the ignition, started the car, and jumped at the knock on his window. He shrugged sheepishly, opened the window, and took his lunch bag.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m a little distracted today.”

“Today?” A sigh. “That car is such a gas guzzler. You need a hybrid. This is Portland. You’re supposed to be green.”

“Kermit the Frog green?”

“Any kind of green you want to be.”

Andrew looked at the person watching him with such open-hearted love in those soft gold-brown eyes.

“Mark?” Andrew said.

“Yes, Andrew.”

“Thank you.”

Mark Bryce leaned his head through the open window and kissed Andrew’s cheek. “Anything for you, beautiful boy.”

When Andrew stopped at the red light on Bancroft Street he felt his phone vibrate. He pulled his phone from his pocket, saw the screen and cringed, peering at the nearby drivers as though they were reporting his every move to some great eye in the sky. The text was from Mark.

Stop looking at your phone!


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Meredith Allard is the author of The Loving Husband Trilogy, That You Are Here, Victory Garden, Woman of Stones, and My Brother’s Battle (Copperfield Press). She received her B.A. and M.A. degrees in English from California State University, Northridge. Her short fiction and articles have appeared in journals such as The Paumanok Review, The Maxwell Digest, Wild Mind, Muse Apprentice Guild, Writer’s Weekly, Moondance, CarbLite, and ViewsHound. She has taught writing to students aged ten to sixty, and she has taught creative writing and writing historical fiction seminars at Learning Tree University, UNLV, and the Las Vegas Writers Conference. She lives in Las Vegas, Nevada.
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I got a chance to ask Meredith Allard a few questions and these are her responses. What fascinating responses in regards to this new release!

Did you always know you were going to write erotic stories, or was it something you discovered along the way?
That You Are Here isn’t an erotic romance, it’s a sweet romance. All of my stories are romantic rather than romances in the traditional sense. I would call That You Are Here an m/m love story. I do like to write about people falling in love. That part of it is fascinating to me.

Do you have any favorite authors or books that inspire you to write? 
Charles Dickens has been a huge influence on my writing. I read David Copperfield in college and I knew that’s what I wanted to do—write stories that were worlds unto themselves.

How did you know you wanted to be a writer?
I was lucky enough to have had teachers throughout my education who took the time to point out that I was a good writer. It took some time to decide what I wanted to write. I tried journalism and screenwriting, but finally found my home writing fiction.

What gave you the inspiration for your current release? 
I was in Portland, Oregon when the announcement of the Supreme Court decision overturning DOMA was made. The idea for That You Are Here occurred to me shortly afterward in some random daydream. I believe that people who are in love should be able to get married, and suddenly I saw the characters from the story, Andrew Whittaker and Mark Bryce, so strongly, like they were standing in front of me. I had the idea for the story from beginning to end in a matter of days. My main goal wasn’t to write a gay story exactly, but rather to write a love story, a story about learning to feel comfortable in your own skin, which is something anyone can relate to, gay or straight. And Andrew’s story about having a secret to hide is one that a lot of people can also relate to. Andrew has to learn that he’s okay the way he is, again, a lesson that everyone needs to learn in one way or another.

Do you use images for your characters or do you just work off the top of your head? 
Sometimes I use images I find on the Internet or actors to help me get a sense of the character’s looks and movements. Other times the character is completely a figment of my imagination.

If you do use images for your characters, which models/actors are your inspiration? 
While I was writing That You Are Here, I happened to be watching an episode of Girls and I thought Andrew Rannells would make a great Mark. I didn’t have anyone in mind for the character of Andrew Whittaker. He was completely a product of my imagination.

 If you had to describe your main characters in 5 words each, what would they be? 
Andrew—hardworking, intelligent, afraid, secretive, handsome
Mark—loving, kind, open, honest, helpful

How did you research the setting for your latest release? 
When I came up with the idea for the story, I was in Portland and decided to set the story there. I was already in Portland so I had a chance to look around at a few of the locations I wanted to use in the story.

What made you realize that you wanted to write in this genre? 
It wasn’t so much that I decided I wanted to write in the m/m genre, but more that I had the idea for a story that happened to be a love story between two men. I’m most known for historical fiction, but the idea for That You Are Here was so strong and I felt there was a novel in there somewhere. I decided to take a chance and see what kind of book I could make from it.

Which one of your characters is your favorite? Which one do you secretly wish you could kill off? 
I don’t think I could choose between Mark Bryce and Andrew Whittaker from That You Are Here. I love them both, and as the two romantic leads they’re both central to the story. I wouldn’t have minded if Corwin Whittaker, Andrew’s father, happened to be hit by a car during the story. Sadly, it never happened.

What is the greatest and worst thing about being a writer? 
The best part of being a writer is creating stories that I get to share with readers. The worst thing is writing the first draft. I am a big fan of Anne Lamott’s phrase “shitty first drafts” because mine are the shittiest shitty first drafts there are.

 Is there anything readers should know about your characters or your world before they start reading the book? 
I think the story is pretty self-explanatory. It’s a love story between two men—Andrew Whittaker and Mark Bryce—and how Andrew needs to learn to accept himself if he’s going to find happiness in life. And I hope I’ve brought Portland, Oregon to life well enough that readers feel like they’re standing there.

Will there be a sequel to your book? 
That You Are Here was intended as a stand alone, but I’ve had enough requests from readers asking about a sequel that I very well might have to write one.

Do you prefer writing about perfect characters or flawed ones?
I think a perfect character would be extremely boring. People aren’t perfect, so if characters are going to be believable then they shouldn’t be perfect, either. In That You Are Here, Mark seems perfect on the surface, but if you dig a little deeper you can see that he’s a “fixer.” He wants to fix everyone’s problems. While that’s a noble goal, no one can really fix or change anyone else, and that’s a lesson Mark needs to learn. For me, it’s the flaws that make a character both believable and interesting.

How did you start writing? 
I started writing fiction in college. I knew from my sophomore year that I wanted to write novels. I started writing my first historical novel twenty years ago in 1994, and I’ve been at it ever since.

What is the hardest part of writing for you? The title? The sex scenes? Dialogue? Consistency?
Since my novels are sweet romances, the sex takes place off the page so that’s not hard for me. Dialogue comes fairly easy for me because of my training as a screenwriter. Probably the hardest part would be writing the first draft because it’s so far from what I’m trying to write. Usually my second drafts are a lot better.

 How did you come  up with the title for this story? 
The title comes from a section from Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.

If your book was a DVD and we went to the Special Features option, what would we find there? Would your book have a deleted scene? And if so, what would it be?
When I wrote the screenplay for That You Are Here, I did have to leave out a number of scenes and characters from the book. For example, I had to leave out Mrs. Chesney from the screenplay, which I felt bad about because she’s a hoot in the novel. But where you have as many pages as you need to tell a story in a novel, in a screenplay you have between 90-110 pages, so you have to figure out how to condense some scenes and how to let go of scenes that don’t fit into the screenplay format.

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