About the Book

GENRE: Gay historical romance, horror

PUBLISHER: Buddha Kitty Books

PUB DATE: January 4, 2017

PAGE/WORD COUNT: 307 pages, 75K words

FORMATS: Mobi, EPUB, PDF

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32079091-man-monster

Synopsis

It’s 1799, and Cole Seavey is a trapper running from a guilty past, seeking refuge on the vast American frontier. Lost in a raging storm, he finds himself face to face with a terrifying, otherworldly creature that seems to have emerged from a nightmare.

Cole is saved from certain death by a handsome Delaware Indian named Pakim. Together they learn that the monster is the fearsome Wendigo from native legends: a creature with a heart of ice, drawn to the evil of men.

Soon the Wendigo is terrorizing the frontier — settler and Indian alike — and Cole and Pakim join together to defeat the mysterious monster. In the process, Cole finds himself falling for the strapping brave and the promise of a new life together.

Unfortunately, the legends say that the Wendigo can only be killed by another creature with a heart of ice. But how can Cole hope to defeat the monster if it means denying the love he’s finally allowed himself to feel?

Man & Monster, which the Midwest Book Review calls “a spell-binding story that is half mystery and half horror,” is the second book in the Savage Land, a series that celebrates the untold gay history of the American frontier. Man & Monster is for fans of Harper Fox, Jerry Cole, K.J. Charles, and Mary Renault, as well as anyone who enjoys pulse-pounding suspense and romance.
(Man & Monster was previously published under the title Firelands.)

Review

This is the first book I’ve read by Michael Jensen, but it won’t be the last. It’s well-written, and it drew me in and gripped my attention all the way through.

This is not a historical romance. Although there is an underlying love story, it’s secondary to the adventure and mystery. This is a historical thriller will plenty of heart-stopping, stomach-dropping moments as the characters battle for their survival.

The characters are fantastic. Cole describes himself as being cold-hearted, but even from the beginning it’s easy to see that it’s how he’s protected himself, not how he genuinely is. Though the romantic elements are between Cole and Pakim, the story doesn’t focus solely on the two of them. In fact, there’s plenty of time when they’re apart in which other characters become prominent. Cole doesn’t discover only one kind of love; he discovers many.

In terms of the romance between Cole and Pakim, it was plenty for me. I prefer a story which has more action than intimacy and where the main plot is more important than the relationship, so it worked perfectly for me. What little sex there is (there’s not much, and it’s not descriptive) is very well done and proves that it doesn’t need to be graphic in order to be gorgeously sensual.

I love the way the themes of cold and ice are woven throughout the story. It’s not merely the almost-winter setting but an integral part of the plot. The chill and ice is constantly juxtaposed with warmth and fire. Everything from the characters to the physical scenery carry these contrasts. It would be interesting to study and discuss them at length.

There are plenty of surprises all the way through, right up until the end. There are clues readers can look for in solving the mystery, but it didn’t end up feeling predictable. The expertly crafted distractions serve their purpose. And even with all the clues, there are still some revelations at the end.

As a non-Native person myself, I’m not sure how well the author captured the culture and peoples of that era. However, it came across to me as written with a respectful tone. There’s definitely a calling out of white people for the devastation on Native populations, but it doesn’t feel preachy. I was also pleased with the distinct lack of overt misogyny, despite the historical context. This, to me, is proof that degrading women is not required in order to achieve authenticity.

All in all, I have only positive things to say about the book. The writing is tight, the plot flows smoothly, and the characters feel like friends by the end. I can’t wait to see what comes next in this series.

For skilled writing, excellent characters, and an absorbing story, this gets 10/10 fountain pens.

Purchase Links

AMAZON: http://amzn.to/2gCxen5

About the Author

Michael Jensen is an author and editor. His books of gay historical fiction include two series, The Drowning World, which is set in 5500 B.C., and The Savage Land, which takes place on the American frontier. Man & Monster, the second book in The Savage Land series, was a Lambda Award Finalist (under the title Firelands).

Michael is also the co-founder of AfterElton.com, which covered pop culture for gay and bisexual men, and eventually become one of the largest and most influential LGBT websites on the internet. In 2006, AfterElton.com was sold to MTV/Viacom in a multimillion dollar deal. As editor, Michael interviewed hundreds of writers, directors, and actors, breaking numerous stories and advancing the issue of LGBT visibility in Hollywood.

Michael also created the Big Gay Fiction Giveaway which helped promote more than 80 M/M authors to great success.

Michael lives in Seattle, WA with his husband, writer Brent Hartinger.

Social Media

FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/michaeljensenbooks/

AUTHOR WEBSITE: http://www.michaeljensen.com

EMAIL: michaeljensenwriter@gmail.com

Excerpt

 Chapter One

The Western Ohio Frontier, 1799

 Things were not as they seemed. It appeared as if black storm clouds were boiling up over the horizon, spilling into the valley like floodwaters breaching a dike. The storm almost looked alive, as if it had a mind of its own. Faster and faster, the clouds surged forward as I, Cole Seavey, watched resolutely from my stony perch at the opposite end of the valley

But as I watched, I saw that those were not black clouds racing toward me; they were passenger pigeons, huge flocks being blown violently through the firmament. Their numbers were staggering — masses beyond counting.

The clouds were not the only thing to be other than they seemed. To those who did not know me well — and none did: I made sure of that — I also appeared to be something I wasn’t. For I was other than the dutiful son and devoted fiancé I had long feigned to be. But beyond the unflappable man nicknamed Cold-Blooded Cole, who was I exactly? I honestly wasn’t sure. Maybe that nickname truly summed up all that was important about me.

The wind propelling the birds and thrashing the trees suddenly struck me with all its fury. The very air seemed to explode. I flung an arm up to protect myself as dirt, dried leaves, seed husks — anything that could be swept up by the tempest — whipped all about me in a mad frenzy.

The storm had caught me at an unfortunate moment. I stood high on a treeless ridge overlooking the long, narrow valley into which I was about to descend. Luck wasn’t entirely against me, though. An ancient forest of oak, hemlock, and poplar lay a half-mile from where I stood. Beneath their protective boughs, I knew I would find shelter from any storm, no matter how fierce.

Downward I plunged over the scree-strewn hillside. Rotten, fractured rock slid about under my feet, slick as melting ice. The last thing I needed so deep into this desolate frontier was to wrench an ankle, especially since I traveled unaccompanied by man or horse. Therefore I obliged myself to move with more caution. The shriek of the wind grew louder, and a branch the breadth of my thigh smashed into a nearby boulder. Wrenched ankle be damned; I broke into an all-out run.

I was nearly to the forest when something peculiar off to the left caught my eye. I thought it to be a girl sitting on the ground, as if pausing to rest while out on an afternoon’s stroll.

I slid to a halt, nearly losing my balance. Certain I was mistaken, I shielded my eyes and peered closer. Blond hair whipped about her head, obscuring her face, but it was a girl all right. Despite the bitter cold, she wore naught but a red dress that clung to her as if wet, though no rain fell from the dark sky. I hurried to her side, mystified as to how she had come to be in such a remote place.

The girl leaned against a large boulder that afforded her little shelter from the howling wind. Her eyes were closed and her head hung limply to the side as if she were asleep — not that such a thing seemed possible in this raging maelstrom. She was perhaps twelve or thirteen, and her bare feet were so dirty and rough-looking that it was possible to believe they had never graced the inside of shoe or moccasin.

I wondered why she had not sought the refuge of the forest that lay so close at hand.

“Miss?” I shouted, drawing nearer, but no answer was returned. This close, I saw I was wrong about the color of her dress. It wasn’t red, at least not originally. It was white. All of the blood soaked into the material had misled me as to its true color.

From years of hunting, I was well acquainted with the gore that accompanied a violent death. Too, I had seen the bloody outcome of many drunken insults settled with musket, stiletto, and fisticuffs. Yet none of that prepared me for the violence that had been done in the killing of this girl. Her dress was rent in a half-dozen places, as was the flesh beneath. Indeed, her left leg had been brutally slashed from hip to knee. Beyond doubt, she had died a terrible death.

She took a breath, startling me. Somehow she was not dead after all. I leaned my musket against a boulder, knelt down next to her, and pushed the tangled hair from her face. Her gaze was frighteningly distant as if she already saw the gates of heaven opening for her. She would die if I didn’t act fast, and probably would no matter what I did.

Another falling branch plummeted down, splintering to pieces far too close by. I knew I had to get her to shelter.

But first I had to stop the bleeding from her thigh. I whipped off my belt — a fine, beaded item I had acquired in trade from an old Cherokee. I slipped the belt under her leg, pulled it high, and then cinched it as tightly as I could. Blood stopped flowing almost immediately, though she had lost so much already, I could scarcely believe more yet coursed through her veins.

Above the shrieking gusts of the windstorm, I heard the sound of groaning. For a moment, I thought it was the girl, then realized it was the sound of the forest straining to remain upright in the gale. My musket blew over, landing hard. I wanted to have it back in my hand, to double-check the charge was yet secure, the firing pan aligned. But I sensed no other threat and thought tending the girl most urgent. I threw my pack to the ground, rummaging through it for cloth to staunch her other wounds.

Given how grievously she was injured, it was hard to believe how ferociously she suddenly gripped my arm.

My eyes went to hers and in them I saw pure terror. But her eyes weren’t on mine. They were locked on something beyond me. Very slowly, I turned until I could see over my shoulder. Fifteen feet away crouched a catamount in the shadow of the forest. My approach must have momentarily frightened the big cat away from its victim, but now it had returned, fearing I intended to cheat it of its meal. The beast was not mistaken.

It was moments like this that had earned me the nickname Cold-Blooded Cole. Staring back at the cougar, my pulse did not quicken, my hands did not shake. Some said it was not bravery that kept me so composed, but dimwittedness. I don’t know why I was not afraid at such times, but as far back as I could remember, I never had been.

Perhaps to be afraid, one must have something he fears losing.

The big cat’s eyes narrowed to slits, its tail snapping back and forth like a banner mounted upon a windy parapet. It bared its teeth, almost certainly hissing at me, only to have the sound swept away by the storm.

I stood and yelled — all that was normally needed to frighten away one of these lethal, if cowardly animals.

This cat didn’t back off. It was easy to see why. The normally sleek creature was gaunt, plainly starving, so much so that its ribs were outlined beneath its skin. No wonder it had attacked the girl and now refused to give ground, even in this terrible storm. It needed to eat or it would die.

And I needed my musket or I might die. I was a fine shot; all I required was one opportunity.

But the animal hurled itself at me before I could act. I barely had time to fling up my arm to block its charge before we tumbled backward. I slammed onto my back, skidding over crumbling rock. The panther landed on my chest, its breath rank as it snarled, its razor-sharp teeth barely missing my flesh. As hard as I could, I kicked at its underbelly, but not before its claws raked my thigh, drawing blood.

We separated for a moment, but the enraged animal instantly charged again. There was no time to think as I fended off the cat’s huge, powerful paws, blow after blow. At last its claws caught me across the face and my skin sang with pain. Furious, I struck out blindly with my fist. I felt the satisfying “crunch” of my fist landing on the animal’s sensitive snout. The cat yowled as it slunk back. But it still didn’t leave.

Injured, I sank to one knee, the wind continuing to howl all the while. Grit continuously scored my face and my watering eyes burned fiercely. The ground shuddered as a nearby tree crashed to the earth. A second followed moments later, and I glanced over as it bounced off the ground.

Instinct warned me to glance up in time to see the cat launch itself at me in another brazen attack. I threw myself to the ground as the beast passed inches above me. I scrambled upright, mopping blood and sweat from my eyes. The air was a whirlwind of dust and dirt as I searched desperately for wherever the cat had landed.

That was when I saw it.

Not the cat. The cat was gone. Where it should have landed was a thing — a monster, a devil out of the bowels of hell.

Or at least that was what I thought I saw. My eyes were so blurry that it was hard to be certain exactly what I beheld.

I had a vague impression of something huge. Seven, eight, maybe nine feet tall it stood. It was two-legged, but had an enormous head that was a ghastly shade of black. A wicked looking set of antlers jutted up from the head, the tips scraping evilly at the sky. Feathers covered its arms, and where the hands should have been were huge paws studded with cruel looking claws. Even from where I stood the monster reeked, as if left dead for days beneath a blazing sun.

No wonder the cat had fled.

As if things weren’t bizarre enough already, I thought I heard my name.

“Seavey,” the wind whispered. “Seavey.”

“Gerard?” I said, barely able to trust my ears. “Is that you?” Gerard was my brother, my only living family, and the one person out here who could possibly know my name. But I was days from the frontier settlement where he dwelled. Nor had he known I was coming, and therefore it was unlikely we were meeting by happy coincidence.

It couldn’t be him; it had to be the wind, my ears playing tricks on me.

The monster stepped toward me, its arms outstretched, and I realized there was another explanation: that foul creature could be uttering my name. Why, I didn’t want to guess. I only wanted to get away.

Trying to locate my musket, I staggered back toward the forest as another tree toppled. I feared getting too close to the woods and being crushed, yet I had no choice but to seek refuge amongst those swaying trunks.

But first I had to get the girl.

A figure emerged from the woods twenty rods distant to my left. My heart leapt with hope that it was Gerard after all, but the figure’s face was hidden by the brim of his hat. Struggling against the blowing wind, he yelled what sounded like, “Stop, damn you!”

I wasn’t sure if he meant me or the monster, but neither of us obeyed. The man swung his musket up, taking aim at the creature. The percussive bang of exploding gunpowder rose momentarily above the wind, but the shot went wide. The musket ball shattered uselessly against a rocky outcropping.

The monster turned from me, charging the man as he attempted to reload. Immediately, I knew he was in trouble. I was handy with firearms; nothing felt as natural in my hand as my musket. But despite my years of experience, even I couldn’t reload in much under a minute; this fellow didn’t look anywhere near as fast as I. The monster would have him long before he could get off another shot.

Intending to help, I started toward him, but the crack of another tree falling seized my attention. The report was as loud as a cannon, and I spun about in time to see a huge oak plunging toward me. I tried to dodge the tree, but there was no escape. Its limbs rushed at me like a bristling wall of soldier’s bayonets.

I suspected I was about to die in a most unpleasant way.

Title: The Second Mango (Mangoverse #1)

Author: Shira Glassman

Genre: Fantasy, F/F, M/F, lesbian fiction, Jewish literature

Publication date: September 20, 2016 (new edition)

Length: 178 pages

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32179385-the-second-mango

I already knew I liked Shira Glassman’s style when I picked this up, so I anticipated enjoying the story. It’s quite different from the last one I read, which was contemporary realistic. This is pure fantasy, and it’s absolutely wonderful.

I was immediately drawn into the setting. The book begins, “Once upon a time, in a lush tropical land of agricultural riches and shining white buildings, there was a young queen who spent the night tied up in a tent, panicking.” A lot of world-building and set-up isn’t necessary. We have an instant picture of where this story is going. Everything else about the kingdom of Perach is neatly woven into the rest of the story, making it easy for readers to imagine themselves right there with Shulamit and Rivka.

The tone throughout is reminiscent of telling wide-eyed children tales of adventure by the fireside, only with a grown-up flair. I was captivated and delighted by the distinctly Jewish flavor of the storytelling. For non-Jewish readers, there’s a nice glossary of terms in the back to translate some of the words, but I found it personally unnecessary. While I did know the terms already, I think I’d have mostly been able to gather the meanings from context. Your mileage may vary.

I loved both of the point of view characters, Shulamit (the queen) and Rivka (her chosen bodyguard). They are opposites in almost every way, but they develop a deep and wonderful friendship. What makes this a somewhat unusual love story is that it isn’t between the POV characters. While Shulamit is a lesbian, Rivka is straight. This is not a “gay for you” story. I want to make that clear upfront so anyone thinking this is going to be about Rivka awakening to her true feelings won’t be disappointed when it doesn’t go that way. Instead, although there is some romance (which I won’t spoil), it’s mainly about these two women developing trust for one another. It makes a refreshing change from many romances, which focus exclusively on the love interests.

There isn’t much I could say without spoiling the story. It relies heavily on the element of surprise to be effective, and there are a couple of interesting mysteries to solve. In fact, the idea of puzzling things out to find the answer is a theme through the entire story. It’s one of the things I enjoyed most.

I absolutely loved Rivka and the way she bent gender norms without it feeling like the same old plot of a woman posing as a man. Yes, she intentionally hides her gender, as part of a culture in which she would not be accepted as a woman warrior. However, it’s done in such a clever way, and Rivka is not expected to somehow change into a delicate flower the minute she finds a man. Nor is she expected to deny her womanhood simply because she’s employed as a bodyguard. The acceptance of both women for who they are is one of the best parts of the book.

As for the romance, it was exactly the right amount for me. I like a little love story with my adventure more than I like a little adventure with my love story, so in my eyes, it was perfect. The hinted at sensuality and the mostly off-page violence fit the tone of the story nicely. Those elements are mild enough that I would feel comfortable giving this to a well-read teen, even though it’s not listed as young adult. I suggest parents preview first, as others may have a different view on the matter than I do.

I loved this so much that my first action on finishing was to go find the rest of the books in the series. I can’t wait to read them all. This book was everything I was looking for, and it was the perfect read to start my holiday vacation. Ms. Glassman has earned a place on my go-to authors list.

For a fun (and often funny) adventure, easy to love characters, and just the right touch of sweet romance, this gets 10/10 mangoes…er, fountain pens.

Amazon

Amazon Author Page | Twitter | Website

Title: The Power of Peppermint

Author: L.D. Blakeley

Genre: m/m romantic comedy, holiday

Publisher: LDB Books

Publication date: December 14, 2016

Length: 68 pages

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33299197-the-power-of-peppermint

This is only the second story I’ve read by L.D. Blakely, but I’m officially hooked. The story is funny, smart, and steamy enough to melt a whole box of candy canes.

I absolutely love May-December romances, especially when they’re as sweet and fun as this one. Predictably, Jamison, the older man, is stuffy and uptight; Noah, the younger man, is charming and bubbly. But underneath the obvious exteriors, both of them defy their age stereotypes. They make a perfect match. Neither of them falls into the trap of playing “teacher” or healing each other with magic sex. They’re just two guys who happen to fall for each other.

For readers who enjoy it, there’s a bit of teasing, a lot of ogling, fluffy instant-love, and meddlesome-but-not-really family. In another context, I might enjoy it less, but it works perfectly for a holiday romance. It all has a tongue-in-cheek feel to it. They have good chemistry, and although they move fast, there are no declarations of forever at the end. They do, of course, have magical sex, but it didn’t feel like too much or too perfect. There’s a nice balance of sweet and steamy. I highly recommend this for people who aren’t looking for anything heavy, just a little Christmas fun.

For a gift-wrapped romance, sexy guys, and a sweet twist on classic tropes, this gets 10/10 peppermint sticks…er, fountain pens.

The wiggle he gave as his cell phone rang, elicited a flurry of giggles from the children who were patiently awaiting their turn. He’d tucked it into the waistband of his tunic because, well, honestly there was nowhere else to stash it.

“Speak of the devil,” he answered, seeing his sister’s face on the phone’s display. “Woah, woah, cool your jets.” Noah held the phone an inch or so from his ear. His sister’s voice was anything but dulcet, especially when she was blasting him with an earful of — wait, what did she say?

“Where are you?” Abi demanded.

“At the mall in all my elfin glory.”

“Well, how come Jamison just told me you bailed?”

Her voice had zero chill and Noah knew better than to mess with her too much. “What are you talking about? I’m looking at him right now. Have been for hours.” As though to punctuate Noah’s sentence, Jamison looked up at that exact moment. Noah couldn’t help himself and flashed what he hoped was a dazzling smile.

Dropping his voice just in case it carried, he continued. “P.S., how come you never mentioned how hot he was? I mean, he’s wound tighter than a two-dollar watch, but he’s damn pretty. You did say he’s gay, right?”

“He is. And leave him alone.”

“Hang on a second, you’re talking to me like I’m a delinquent teenager instead of someone helping you out of a jam. Remind me again how you roped me into this gig?”

“You’re good with kids, know your way around a camera, and could use the distraction. And you love me.”

Noah laughed at her bullet-pointed accuracy. “I don’t love you that much. Try again.”

“Because I’m letting you live under my roof, smartass. And as long as you’re under my roof—”

“I know, I know,” he cut her off with a chuckle. “But I might have to amuse myself by flirting with the J in A & J Photography.” He could almost hear the impending warning, so he didn’t give her a chance. “Sorry, gotta go. Santa’s almost done for the day and requires my assistance. Bye-bye.”

She hated it when he did that. Which made it all that more fun when he did. Just to be on the safe side, however, he turned the ringer off before tucking his phone back into his patent leather belt.

There were only a few kids left in line when Mac gave him the wrap-it-up signal, so he latched the velvet rope behind the last of them to keep out stragglers. As much fun as the munchkins were, Noah was looking forward to getting home, getting showered and putting on real pants.

When the last print of the day had been handed over to a beaming young couple and their chirpy toddler, he locked up the till and started packing things away for the night. Within the first few days on the job, he’d gotten the routine down to a science and was finished in no time.

Jamison was still crouched by a tripod busily loading lenses into his camera bags so he wandered over to help. He didn’t seem the type to let anyone touch his gear but Noah figured he’d at least ask. It was as good an excuse as any to talk to the guy.

“Need a hand?”

“I’m just about finished. Thanks.” Jamison zipped up the bag and stood to his full height.

With absolutely no shame, Noah gave him a head-to-toe once-over. Damn.

“I’m Noah by the way.” He grinned, knowing full well by the slight blush on Jamison’s face that he’d been caught. He hadn’t been going for subtle. “Abi’s brother.”

“Oh. Oh.” Jamison’s eyes widened, no doubt in recognition of the name. “Jamison. Hi.” He cleared his throat and held his out his hand.

“Nice working with you today.” He held onto Jamison’s hand a beat or two longer than necessary and gave him a puckish smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he added with a wink.

For good measure, he added a bit of sway to his hips as he walked away. He’d be willing to bet good money Jamison was watching his ass.

Amazon ✽ Apple iTunes ✽ ARe ✽ Kobo ✽ Smashwords

Website ✽ Facebook ✽ Twitter ✽ Goodreads

Today I’m chatting with L.D. Blakeley about writing, life, and their current project. Welcome! Let’s talk a little about The Power of Peppermint.

What inspired you to write this story?

I love May/December romances and wanted to write a happy holiday story. I think Christmas can be a tough time of year for a lot of people, so every little extra bit of happy we can create is important.

Is there a character you feel especially connected to? Why?

I can certainly identify with Jamison. I can be a bit tightly wound like he is and I tend to have moments where I think, “good lord, but I’m old.” I also have a fondness for photography – it’s been a hobby since journalism school, though I’m no pro like Jamison.

What was the hardest part of writing this?

This was, happily, one of those stories that came quite easily once the idea took root.

Choose a favorite line or short passage. What do you like about it?

I think my favourite line is from Jamison’s POV.

Apparently it was possible to feel ancient and pubescent at the same time.

Because I think that, no matter how old we get, there’s always a part of us who feels out of our element or childlike and unsure how to behave. At least that’s been the case in my life. LOL.

Tell us a little about any upcoming projects.

Now that I’ve released my first self-published title, The Power of Peppermint, I’m busy with edits/rewrites for a magical realism MM romance that I started during last year’s NaNoWriMo. And I’ve got books 2 and 3 of my Laissez Faire series on the go as well. Book 1 (Opportunity Knocks) came out the summer before last, then I got sidetracked with a  few other WIPs and left the boys hanging.

What are some of the jobs besides writer that you’ve held?
Once upon a time I was a summer reporter for a newspaper. I’ve been an entertainment/music writer, a travel writer/editor, a PR writer, a website writer/editor, and a marketing shill. And back in my high school & university days, I worked in a department store.

What do you consider to be your best accomplishment?
I once s-l-o-w-l-y finished a half-marathon and I’m probably a bit too proud of that accomplishment (especially considering there’s no way I could repeat the feat.) But career-wise, I would say just being published. I spent a long time writing for other people. So when I started writing for me, it was incredibly encouraging to know that it was something that others might also enjoy.

What do you see yourself doing in another 1, 5, and/or 10 years?
Exactly what I’m doing now—writing and sharing my stories with as many people as possible.

Word Sprints!

1. Plotter or pantser? Plantser
2. Coffee or tea? Coffee
3. Cats or dogs? Cat. But if I didn’t live downtown and had a yard? Both.
4. Musical theater or rock concert? BOTH
5. What’s your favorite movie? Velvet Goldmine

Title: Seven Minutes

Author: Grace Kilian Delaney

Genre: MM Romance

Publisher: Dreamspinner

Publication date: December 7, 2016

Length: 55 pages

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32930685-seven-minutes

**Full disclosure: I had the privilege of beta reading this story.**

This is a terrific story, short enough to read on a cozy afternoon. It should hit the high notes for people who enjoy “you’ll know it when the right one comes along” tales.

Stone and Devon are a pretty unlikely couple, but it’s precisely because they don’t fit the usual molds that they work perfectly. I’m not usually a fan of the “manly man” type, but Stone wears it so well it’s impossible not to like him. He wants to be this bad boy, but he isn’t. I’m a sucker for “hardened with a heart of gold,” so he won me over.

As much as I like Stone, Devon is my favorite. He’s gender variant, and he doesn’t fall into a stereotype of what that’s supposed to look like. He’s a treasure. The two of them are so absolutely right together. On the surface, they look like they might fall into stereotypes, and yet they never do. Stone might be a gruff guy-guy, but he’s also sensitive and a bit emotionally needy as someone just discovering himself. Devon’s got confidence in spades, and his cross-dressing and femininity don’t ever turn him into a woman stereotype stand-in.

My favorite thing here is that Stone and Devon both save each other, yet neither of them is a white night. They show each other what it means to be both soft and strong, and when it comes down to it, they’re able to draw on each other’s support to stand up for themselves. That’s the best kind of relationship.

For a sweet and sexy romance, lovable characters, and just the right touch of humor and fun, this gets 10/10 fountain pens.

What inspired you to write this story?

I wanted to do something contemporary, and my friend, Paige Gabriel, came up with the idea of a cross-dressing MC. Stone’s character fulfilled my teenage dreams of being a heavy metal singer. The unlikely pairing seemed like a fun thing to write.

Is there a character you feel especially connected to? Why?

Initially, I identified with Stone in that he’d been burned by love, yet he remained open to experiences. Deep down, he didn’t want to be grumpy—me neither. But Devon is my favorite. He’s got that confidence of accepting who he is and doesn’t feel the need to chose between identifying as male or female; he’s at home with both. When I picked my pen name, I included both a female and male name. The action was intentional, but at the time I hadn’t realized how true it felt. I’d always be the boy when I was a kid playing, and yet I liked all the things associated with being female. It’s taken many years for me to reach the level of self-acceptance Devon possesses, and now I just go with my mood, like him.

What was the hardest part of writing this?

I have to say trying to figure out how Devon identified and how to write about him/her in a light that would convey a strong, confident character was a challenge. I am grateful for all of my beta readers and Dreamspinner Press for their suggestions and guidance.

Choose a favorite line or short passage. What do you like about it?

This scene between Stone and his bandmate/best friend Matty is probably my favorite. I love their relationship and their banter because they’re not afraid to get in each other’s face and tell it like it is.

“Admit it,” Matty said. “You haven’t been the same since you met Devon.” The grin returned, and I restrained myself not to punch it the hell off his face.

“Fine. So the fuck what if I like him?” I’d had enough. “Are you gonna disown me because I like cock?”

He barked a laugh. “Dude, I’m like a fungus. You can’t get rid of me.”

Tell us a little about any upcoming projects.

Oisin, Devon’s best friend, needed his own story and happy ending. I’m hoping the full-length novel Waking Oisin will be out by Spring.

Oisin Harrison, a UNLV law school student, is poised to take over his father’s multimillion-dollar law firm, and it’s making him miserable. He’d lost his fiancée last year when she realized he truly was bisexual and the occasional hookups he’d had since felt empty. Wanting something more, Oisin attends an invite-only fetish party where he meets a former Dom. This Dom has Oisin seeing the future—a talent inherited by his grandmother—and it’s not entirely good, but the good parts reveal this man is everything Oisin has dreamed about, if only he wasn’t set to be the next junior partner in Oisin’s father’s law firm.

Trenton Fisher loves working as an attorney, though a recent case had him and his colleagues fearing for their lives. When Trent learns a potentially violent man may be attending a fetish party, Trent regresses to his former life as a Dom to warn the Dungeon Master. What he didn’t expect to find was the senior partner’s son, Oisin Harrison, a younger man he’d fantasized about but never met, one breath away from letting the violent man dominate him. Forced to take charge, Trent risks his beloved career to protect the man, a risk costing them both far more than Trent ever anticipated.

How has your life changed since becoming a published author?

Being this is my first time published as a writer (I am a published musician), it’s changed the way others view me more than it’s changed my perception of myself. Having the opportunity and the gift of being published opens doors and makes other publishers and authors take me more seriously than before.

If you could take a time machine back 10 years, what would you tell your past self?

Just be yourself. Stay true to your art and quit drinking and hiding so much.

What do you hope people say about you after you’re gone?
She was a kind soul who inspired me.

Word Sprints!

1. Plotter or pantser? Plotter
2. What’s your favorite book? Make Good Art by Neil Gaiman
3. What’s a charity/cause you support? World Wildlife Fund for Nature (WWF)
4. In school, were you more academic, artsy, or athletic? Artsy
5. What superpower do you wish you had? The ability to heal people

Dreamspinner | Amazon | All Romance eBooks

Amazon Author Page | Twitter | Facebook | Website