Thursday, October 31, 2013

The Derkelyng (Happy Halloween, gang!) ch 1 & 2

The Derkelyng

rest of Chapter One

Jesus Christ, I was fucked. I was back inside the city limits, night was coming, and I had a cut which was still seeping.

Blood would draw the Derkelyng to me like a moth to a flame.

I could maybe barricade myself in the tunnel—if I could even find anything I could use—and hope the Derkelyng didn’t find me. That didn’t look very promising, but I’d be belowground. Then again, if they found the tunnel and came at me from both ends, I’d be trapped. But if I ran to the country, there would be no concealment. I looked at the crumbling pile of stone, brick, and glass around me. I could move easier here and use the shadows for concealment. Not that it mattered since I was cut, but out here the damn things would have to run me to ground.

I ran toward what was left of the city.

How had it gotten to be dark so quickly? And when did it start to rain? A never-ending rain, falling softly upon my face—drip… drip… drip. The sound echoed in my head, matching my thumping heart. I lifted my face. Rivers of wetness twisted and snaked, working their way down until they finally caressed my vulnerable throat, a ghostly touch. 

Shivering slightly, I tried to bring my erratic breathing under control. In… out… in… out. A strangled, desperate laugh threatened to escape as my mind reminded me why I was breathing so hard. There was no calming down. Death would soon stalk the night, closing in on me, its harsh breath cold on my neck.

I stopped near a wall. A warm breeze wrapped around my exhausted body as I shook the rain from my hair. “God, help me.”

The laugh that threatened earlier finally escaped as the words floated around me, dead and limp in the misty air. Even if God did exist, He couldn’t help me. No one and nothing could. No, prayers wouldn’t rescue me from what stalked the night now. This being was much more corporeal, with flashing fangs, red eyes, inhuman speed, and a thirst for blood. Worse, the creatures that owned the night were immortal.

I ducked in and out of the shadows, moving as silently as possible as I searched for a hiding place. The deeper in the city I moved, the more I noticed the buildings had been renovated. Were these creatures trying to bring the cities back? Why? They were animals; all they cared about was blood and fucking. At least, that’s what we’d always thought… had been taught.

Finally, darkness covered the land. Slowly the evening’s silence awoke with movement. As I searched for a hiding place, I noticed bodies taking to the streets as red eyes searched and voices drifted.

“Mmm, do you smell that?”

“Ah yes, fresh blood. I do believe we have a human among us tonight. Odd, they’re usually out of the city limits by nightfall.”

“Guess this one didn’t make it out in time, huh?”

“Indeed. What fun!”

The hunt was on.

Chapter Two

Lander lived in the area that had been rebuilt. His home was the top floor of the largest building in the center of the city. The rest of the building housed his business, all 110 floors. He was the House Lord for the La Nouvelle-Orléans Coven in the Southern District and he’d fought bloody well to claim that title. Before the war had changed everything, he’d been a wealthy businessman with power in this part of the country.

In a finger snap, he’d been changed into what could only be called a vampire. Or, as they were now called, the Derkelyng. The creature who’d changed him was one of the oldest. Through Lander, and others as powerful as Lander, he’d taken control of the southern part of the United States. Of course, after the war the country was no longer called the U.S. of A. The land was divided into sectors ruled by the strongest Derkelyng.

Rider was the Derkelyng who’d changed his life and the only ‘man’ Lander was answerable to. Rider was the Elder Lord, the undisputed Leader of the coven. Rider was one of the eldest and most powerful among his kind. Thank God Lander didn’t have to see Rider but once a year. Frankly, Rider scared the hell out of Lander. Even as vicious as he could be, Rider was that much more. Lander still had human emotions buried under the need for blood… Rider did not.

Rider had never been human.

Lander strolled across the lobby; a doorman was ready and waiting. Outside, a car sat at the curb to take him wherever he wanted. He just didn’t know where he wanted to go. From the moment he’d opened his eyes, he was restless. The urge to prowl wouldn’t leave him. It was driving him nuts. He nodded at the doorman as he walked outside. The night was alive with sounds and scents. Lander rolled his shoulders, the spot between his shoulder blades itching suddenly.

“What the hell…?” Lander growled as the pressure increased. 

On the evening breeze was something… a scent. The smell wrapped around him, teasing his senses. Fluttery sensations invaded his belly and his knees threatened to buckle. Taking a deep breath, he drew the smell in, and smelled blood. Human blood.  The smell tangled in his head and shot to his groin, making him harder than he’d ever been. Male. Young… and strong. 

Rider had told him he’d find one human who would call his blood—the human who would tame the beast within him, who would help anchor his raging soul. Lander didn’t believe Rider. He didn’t believe it was possible for Derkelyng to see humans as anything other than prey. They were weaker species, were they not? Some were strong, he knew that, but still...

He certainly never dreamed he’d have such strong feelings… and so swiftly.

Growling more loudly, he jerked his head in the direction that wonderful scent came from. Blood always smelled good, tangy and sharp, but this—this was something different, something more. His entire body vibrated with want. While he hungered for the source of that blood, he also yearned for the human it came from.


He wanted to… Heaven help him, he wanted to hold that human close, protect him from the dangers around him, and give him anything his heart desired. Mate. That was his mate out there, alone in the city… and unprotected.




The sweetness of that scent suddenly spiked with the taint of fear. Lander’s body reacted while rational thought flew out the window. Only one thing could make a human stink of fear like that, and that was being hunted. Lander sniffed again, picking through the scents, following his human’s smell… and the roar that left him had several immortals around him shaking in terror. Not only was his mate out there, but two Derkelyng were hunting him.


Moving faster than a human eye could track, Lander followed that scent. If they touch what’s mine, I’ll yank out their heart with my bare hands and feed it to them. Weaving around piles of rubble and old, broken down cars in the street, Lander rushed on, moving even quicker. The other Derkelyng wouldn’t know this human was his, of course. They had no way of knowing. Lander hadn’t marked the human as his yet, much less converted him.

Desperate, Lander sent out his thoughts, warning any Derkelyng around the Central Business District that the human there was his. He even offered a blood reward—just hold the human, unharmed, until he arrived. Of course, doing this also left him open to others who wanted his position under Rider. They could take the human prisoner and force Lander to—

Derkelyng, be it known that my child, Lander, has found his mate. The human near Lafayette Square has my protection. Harm that human and death won’t come fast enough. In fact, death won’t come at all under my mercy.

Lander cringed as the inhuman voice of Rider cut across his, and every other Derkelyng, mind. Jesus, he tended to forget just how strong Rider was, until he was reminded with presents like this. Thank you, Sire.

You are very welcome, Lander. I’m pleased you’ve found the one, child. I can feel your excitement. I… envy you that.

Maybe one day—

Maybe. Worry not about me, child. Instead, hurry to that special human who will complete you. He waits for you and… huh. Well, I’ll be damned. Impressive. The little shit just shot a Derkelyng who was holding him for you right between the eyes. Won’t kill the male, of course, but he’ll sure feel that for a few days. Your human is a fighter, Lander. I do believe I’m going to like him.

Lander poured on the speed. They had his human. The Derkelyng had been warned not to hurt him, but his kind wasn’t used to humans who fought back, either. How very odd… and exciting. The last thing he wanted was another ‘yes man’ to follow him around. He had that in his old life, and even now.

Most converted Derkelyng feared him to some degree since he was a child of Rider’s. They also walked carefully around him because he was powerful in his own right. This human… Maybe this being would stand up to him unlike the others. Lander raced up St. Charles Avenue, one of the streets that bordered Lafayette Square.

Images sped past until finally, there, by the bronze statue of Henry Clay, a Derkelyng held a struggling human. Another Derkelyng sat close by, a bullet slowly working its way out of his forehead.

And the struggling human? He was cussing a blue streak. His gun had been taken, but apparently this human wore weapons on his body like the female Derkelyng wore jewelry. His mate had a long, wicked knife now… and was doing his best to gut anything that got close enough. Rider was right, this human was impressive.

“Stop!” Lander bellowed.

All three froze on the spot… until the bullet finally worked its way out from the Derkelyng skin and dropped on the ground. Ping, ping, ping it went, bouncing across the ground. All eyes shot to it and just… stared. No one said a word; they all just stared at it. Another time he might have laughed at the situation.

The Derkelyng still on his feet motioned to the human near him. “This is the one we were warned about?”

Lander nodded. “He’s mine, yes. Move away from him.”

“Gladly,” said the other Derkelyng as he stood and shuffled to a bench.

Lander smothered a laugh. Yes, maybe years from now this would be funny. But for now… Lander turned to his human. “Human. I am Lander Garçon, the House Lord for the La Nouvelle-Orléans Coven in the Southern District. Rider is the Elder Lord of this Coven. You are under his protection. None of the Derkelyng will harm you. By what name may I address you by?” 
I tried to get the whole thing done, y'all, I just couldn't, but the good news is I don't like much though! :) Bare with me, okay. I have good days and not so good days. :(

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Halloween Wednesday Briefs - The Derkelyng

Welcome to the Wednesday Briefers flash group. The short stories have a maximum of a 1000 word count plus links at the bottom to the other flashers. The prompts for this week are:

"Did you really think that would scare me?"

or "Yo mama's so scary..."

or "Suck on that, big boy!"

or "This place made the Bates Motel look like Disneyland..."

or "I want my mummy!"

or "You got candy? I only got rocks!"

or feature a haunted house or a vampire or any Halloween creature

or have your character in costume

or use the Great Pumpkin

or "When did you get to be so smart?"

or have a character playing a video game

or have a potato sack race

or have a character watch NASCAR

*I’m using a picture prompt


~Okay, it’s Halloween and it’s my favorite season. I haven’t had a change to do much cause of the stroke, but by George, I can do this lol. So, I’m putting Nighttime Promises on hold for this week to do the Halloween prompts. Who knows, it may turn into something for later. *evil laugh* 

The Derkelyng

Chapter One
There were myths handed down over the years, stories of another time when there were no Derkelyng. Only humans ruled the land, and legend said these humans didn’t hide from the night. They lived and loved without fear. They had organized schools, governments, banks, a written word, and they owned businesses. They even kept time differently, it was said. Those from the past were not afraid to go out at night; they were not hunted as food… or pleasure.

They had no idea how lucky they were, if that was true. Things were not like that now. The world as known by those humans ended in 2010. That’s when the Derkelyng first showed themselves.  And soon after that, there was war.

The year now was 5PW, or Post War. There were two groups that existed on Earth now. The Derkelyng—the creatures that walked the night and lived off blood, and  the humans. The Derkelyng lived in the crumbling cities of the past. Humans lived away from the cities in whatever places they could find that offered safety. Very little could destroy those walking nightmares. Sunlight could. So could a stake to the heart, or cutting off their heads.

I was a human of the present world. In the times we now lived in, it was survival of the fittest. And I fully intended to survive. I was twenty years old and had been fighting for my life for as long as I could remember. The scars on my body and my face proved that. By the age of ten, I was proficient with a knife and could shoot a gun. By fifteen, my father had been killed, and I was on my own. I knew how to defend myself, thanks to my father. I only had to kill two of the older men in my clan before they left me alone. Over the next five years, I’d proved my usefulness to the clan and rose in its ranks. I would survive.

But the truth was, if one of the creatures took an interest in you, you were dead; either really dead, or dead as undead… one of those things that haunted the night. None of us knew for sure how the Derkelyng converted a human. There were rumors the creatures infected humans with their bite. Other rumors said it was from having sex with them. The Derkelyng certainly weren’t telling.

Humans were prey, plain and simple.

Being prey was one thing, but being stupid was another. And I had been incredibly stupid. Twilight was coming, and here I was still inside the city limits. Stupid didn’t even begin to explain what I was. No, actually, dead was probably what I was going to be.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

I found a burned-out shell of a house outside city limits that hadn’t been ransacked yet. Maybe being nothing but a hull had fooled others, but I still had to check it out. What I’d found had been amazing. There was a basement under all that trash and burnt wood. Once I cleared away the junk, broken furniture, and camouflage, I found a door in the floor. I broke the lock and made my way down a sturdy staircase.

Things were looking up.

But even I wasn’t prepared for what I found. There were guns, at least fifteen, and boxes and boxes of ammo to go with those weapons. There had been walls packed three feet deep with canned goods and paper products too. Excited by the bounty, I hadn’t really checked out the surroundings aboveground.

As I took inventory, a young man came out of the shadows, snarling obscenities and waving a knife. I tried to reason with him, talk him down—I mean, he had to see the rifle slung over my shoulder, right?—but when he threw the knife at me… well, that persuaded me otherwise. 

I shot him between the eyes.

Maybe later I’d feel bad, feel something for the life I’d taken. Maybe. First, I had to deal with a wailing young girl on a pallet in the back. She was sick, deadly sick, and covered in open, seeping sores. The smell was horrible. Or maybe that smell was the dead baby next to her. God.

Every-fucking-where I looked death stared at me. Knowing I was making a mistake, I stayed and did what I could for her. I tried to leave water near her, even tried to get her to drink, but I could tell she wasn’t long for this world. She sounded like she was breathing through water, and her eyes were glazed. Two hours later, she died.

I… I couldn’t help it; I had to bury all them. If only the guy would’ve let me talk to him, instead of attacking me. Once he threw that knife, he sealed his fate. And he had nicked me. Nothing bad, but bleeding and being out of doors…yeah, not a good combination. I found some bottled water and washed the cut. Then I cut a strip off my shirt and wrapped the wound.

With a sigh, I gathered the bodies and buried them. Once finished, I went back to the basement to take stock. I found a tunnel they used to get out of the basement, and I explored that. It was when I found the other end of the tunnel that I realized how much time had passed, and where the damn thing came out. Jesus Christ, I was fucked. I was back inside the city limits, night was coming, and I had a cut which was still seeping.

Blood would draw the Derkelyng to me like a moth to a flame.

TBC. Make sure to visit the other Briefers! Oh, the rest of this will post on Halloween. J It’s a short story I hope y’all enjoy. 

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Friday, October 25, 2013

Welcome Julie Lynn Hayes

I hear voices in my head.

No, I’m not daft or certifiable—at least no more than any other writer, I think. The voices that I hear are not the kind that tell me to do strange things or incite me to desperate acts, rather they belong to my characters, both those I know and those I’ve yet to meet. And I’ve learned something in over forty years of writing—when they speak, I listen!

Carrying paper and pencil or pen is wonderful advice for those moments when your characters begin to speak and you want to capture them for posterity. It’s all well and good to say oh, I’ll remember that, no problem, until  you’re sitting in front of your computer screen and your fingers are in place upon the keyboard and suddenly you’ve forgotten every single word you were sure you’d remember forever. As they talk, you should write, that much is just a given.

But sometimes you aren’t in a position to write—for example, while you’re driving, or when you’re showering (bathing isn’t quite so bad, at least you can take the paper and pen into the bathroom and write while you soak), or even when you’re having sex. So what do you do? If it’s just one line, you can keep repeating it to yourself until you’re in a position to write it down, and that can work. But what if it’s more than that?

I have a little trick for those moments. At least it works for me. I get a mental picture of the emotions involved, and capture them visually, imprinting them with the words, almost like a hot key. So that when I’m ready, I “press” the key, and then it comes out where I can capture it. If I let the character ramble before I’m ready, I find that I lose the words. But if I imprint them in this way, then they stay there, waiting for me to access them.

For example, a couple of years ago my daughter and I went to see Inception at the theatre, the Leonardo di Caprio film. I wasn’t even sure at first that I wanted to see it, but she did so I agreed to go. Before we went, I got to thinking about Leo and other films that I’ve seen him in over the years, including Total Eclipse (Leo and David Thewlis – totally hot! Kissing and nakedness, very delicious!), and I heard a voice speak to me.

“Did you know that Leonardo di Caprio is a vampire?”

Sounds like an odd beginning or introduction even for a character. But I thought what the heck, let’s listen. I realized that this was a new character, so I kept the line in my head, all through Inception. Afterwards, I worked on the story, as I drove home. First, I needed character names. In Inception, Cillian Murphy plays a guy named Robert Fisher. He’s an important character, and his name stuck in my head, but I reversed it and changed it slightly. So Robert Fisher became Fisher Roberts. One character down, now for number two (I already knew this would be m/m, so I needed another male name). As I was driving, I scanned everything around me—billboards, businesses, vehicles, whatever—for the mate to Fisher Roberts. I saw an ad for hunting, and suddenly I had it—Hunter, who became Hunter Long.  It wasn’t til long after I began to write that I saw what I had inadvertently done – Fisher and Hunter. It might seem contrived to some, but I swear to you it was totally accidental.

I knew nothing about these two guys, but I began to write, using that first line, and I kept writing until some 35k later, I was done.  Or at least I thought it was. After a brief stint with a publisher who shall remain nameless, I received Leo back into my own hands and then I took the original story and added 5k to it, in the form of Hunter’s POV, and then I sold it to Torquere. And now we have a happy ending, as well as a new cover and more depth to the story of Hunter and Fisher.

This isn’t the only time this has happened to me, far from it. There once was a time when I was researching a non-fiction book, a children’s book about composer Percy Granger, when a voice began to speak, and he told me he was a gay werewolf. I could feel that he was a nice man, so I politely told him to please wait til I was done with the other book.  But he kept talking, so to appease him I thought I would just write down a few notes and hold onto them until I was ready. Those few notes became the first chapter of To The Max. Which became an entire book. And which now has a sequel. All because a voice wanted to be heard. Oh, that other book never got written yet. Guess Percy needs to speak louder, eh?

Another time, it was Judas Iscariot that spoke, and that book became Revelations (for which I’m still seeking a publisher). Sometimes I only get to the first chapter, and then it sits as a WIP until I get back to it. But at least it’s a start.

I hate to think about all of the characters that I have lost or forgotten because I wasn’t able to keep their words in my head. Perhaps they’ll come back again someday, but I’m not holding my breath. That goes for the books I’ve written in my dreams, but forget the moment I wake up. Since I started using my little mnemonic trick, I haven’t lost a thing, and that’s a good feeling. I just hope my readers agree that it was worth it!

Do your characters talk to you? Do you have any tricks you use for getting your characters down onto paper?  I’d love to hear about it!  Thanks for having me, M.A., have a great day, everyone!



Halloween is the night when the veil between the worlds grows thin... Not that Fisher Roberts believes in Halloween or any other holiday. Unlike his roommate and longtime best friend, Hunter Long. The trouble is that Fisher’s feelings for Hunter are more than that of a friend, and it’s getting harder and harder to hide those feelings from Hunter.

Fisher has promised Hunter to attend a Halloween party with him on All Hallow’s eve, even though he’d really rather not. Things start out badly and then take a decided turn for the strange. Hunter confesses to being a vampire. Not that Fisher believes that, of course—that’s just Hunter’s strange sense of humor. But the kiss in the park... what’s that about? And at the Halloween party from Hell, nothing and no one are what they seem to be... Halloween madness or something more?

Excerpt:  Fisher trembled, an expectant trembling, as if he were waiting for something to happen. He didn't have to wait long. Suddenly those beautiful lips were touching his, and then they were kissing, truly kissing. No, it wasn't Fisher's first kiss, but it was his first with a man. His only kiss with a man. And he was amazed at what a difference there was between this kiss and the others. Not because of gender, but because it was with Hunter. Because Hunter was someone special. 

He felt himself giving in to those lips, melting into that touch, with a heat that penetrated his entire body, vibrating in its intensity. Now Hunter was nibbling at his lips, soft tender kisses that shook him to his very foundation. His head was reeling, and he was on the verge of losing all sense of self when he felt the first raindrops splash upon his upturned face. 

What the hell. He pulled back at this sudden insertion of reality into a very unreal scene, his mouth forming a large "O" of amazement, his eyes going into saucer-plate mode. But even as he did, Hunter moved forward, sliding his hips until their knees were touching. From this position, luckily, they couldn't get much closer, or Hunter would realize what else he had raised beside's Fisher's blood pressure. 

He was going to do it again. Fisher just knew it, he could feel it, and oh God how badly he wanted it, as he felt a whimper rise in his throat, indicating a neediness he wasn't aware he even possessed. But the drops were turning thicker now, more of them, and they were brutally cold. A definite shock to the system. His brain was screaming to him to get out, get out now. 

Even though this was what he wanted, exactly what he wanted. So what was the problem? What did he think would happen if he gave in to his feelings? He didn’t know. He was afraid of things that he couldn't even explain to himself. 

He practically threw himself backward from the picnic table in his haste to get away, landing on the hard ground that would soon be turning to mud if this downpour kept up. A steady rain it was now, and lightning crackled angrily above their heads. 

"Fisher?" Hunter rose hastily, reaching for him. So Fisher did the only logical thing he could do -- he gained his feet and ran, as hard and as fast as he could. He hated himself with every step that he took -- and he knew he had never loved Hunter Long more.


Julie Lynn Hayes was reading at the age of two and writing by the age of nine and always wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Two marriages, five children, and more than forty years later, that is still her dream. She blames her younger daughters for introducing her to yaoi and the world of M/M love, a world which has captured her imagination and her heart and fueled her writing in ways she'd never dreamed of before. She especially loves stories of two men finding true love and happiness in one another's arms and is a great believer in the happily ever after. She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and two cats, loves books and movies, and hopes to be a world traveler some day. She enjoys crafts, such as crocheting and cross stitch, knitting and needlepoint and loves to cook. While working a temporary day job, she continues to write her books and stories and reviews, which she posts in various places on the internet. Her family thinks she is a bit off, but she doesn't mind. Marching to the beat of one's own drummer is a good thing, after all.  Her published works can be found at Dreamspinner Press, MuseitUp Publishing, Torquere Press, and eXtasy Books. She has also begun to self-publish and is an editor at MuseitUp.  


You can find her on her blog at, and you can contact her at





My Publishers:

Monday, October 21, 2013

The Harvest:Taken ready for pre-order!


Pre-Order Now and Save 20%!(Available October 29, 2013)

eBook $6.99 $5.59
Softback $13.99 $11.19
Bundle $17.99 $14.39

In the year 2050, humanity finds out they are indeed not alone.

Massive space ships appear without warning above the capital cities of all major nations. The planet Tah'Nar is dying. Chemical warfare has reduced the once-intersexed warrior race to sterility. They need fresh DNA in order to reproduce and have an idea for a harvesting program... and so they turn to Earth.

Earth governments negotiate a lottery, and Dale Michael assumes he's safe since he's under the Harvest age limit. How wrong he is. He's illegally harvested and claimed by Tah'Narian starship captain Keyno Shou. From the moment Keyno sees Dale, he knows he must claim the spirited human male for his own. What he doesn’t expect is a spitfire with a mind of his own—and a deadly disease that will require a risky procedure to cure.

19 day post stroke lol

So, it's been almost three weeks since my stroke. Today is two weeks since surgery. Things are moving along very well, I'm glad to say. I'm up and doing things, but I still can't pick up anything heavier than five pounds. You'd be surprised how many things you actually have to stop and think whether or not can be picked up lol.

I'm trying to eat healthier, which is kinda hard to do when I'm not the one buying groceries. The hubby is having to do that since I can't drive yet. And not being able to drive is a pure bitch, let me tell ya. And of course, he's not getting what I tell him to lol.

I'm not going to even touch on the eight different med's I have to take a day. Hopefully that will cut down to about two pills after my checkup on the 29th. I've gone to not having to take med's to taking more than I can shake a stick at. *sigh*

I'm still not smoking... yay! I haven't had much trouble with it, either. I have noticed now that I'm slowly getting back to work that when I take a break... for a second I find myself getting ready to head outside to smoke lol. It only lasts a minute and I just find something else to do until that need passes. But the habit is still there.

I have PT Tuesdays and Thursdays now. Mostly they're working on my balance and getting my neck to loosen up. The scar still pulls a little, but not as bad as before. It's still a bit swollen too.

So that's all on me lol. What's going on my writing... Well, Wrapped in Leather has gone through one round of edits and the cover spec page has been filled out and sent back. I think it's probably going to be released in Jan.

I haven't heard anything new on The Harvest: Taken. I have seen the cover, but the font was supposed to be changed so I haven't seen the updated cover. The story is in proofing, I do know that. As far as I know, book 1 is still due to come out Oct 29th. If that changes, I'll let you guys know. :)

I am trying to get back to writing my Wednesday Briefs too. I'm in this week, lol; the prompts got me going. Plus I want to get back to it since it is for publication eventually. I want to get Nighttime Promises out as soon as possible. :)

So, that's all for now. I'll touch base again when I have more news!


Thursday, October 17, 2013

Welcome Michael Rupured and a giveaway

Fan Favorite Philip Potter

Thanks, M.A., for having me back on your blog to talk about After Christmas Eve, my new release from MLR Press. You’ve spruced an already nice place up quite a bit since my last visit. I don’t know how you find the time for everything you do!

To celebrate the 10/11 release of my second novel, I’m giving away 10 copies (ebooks) through an 11-stop blog hop. To enter, comment before midnight, October 25, 2013 on any of my posts on the eleven participating blogs. Be sure to include an email address.

I had no idea when I wrote Until Thanksgiving that a prequel would follow. The idea of writing a novel was intimidating enough—never mind a series. But something about Philip Potter, a supporting character, grabbed me and wouldn't let go. I wanted to know more about him. Readers loved him too, and shared my interest in his past.

After Christmas Eve is Philip Potter's story. Fans of Thad Parker's uncle will find out what sparked his interest in helping gay teens, abandoned by intolerant parents. They'll also learn Philip's deepest, most well kept secret—unknown even to his precious nephew.

Discovering Philip required a trip to the sixties—a difficult decade in U.S. history for gays and lesbians. Homosexuality was not just a sin, but also a mental illness, against the law, and universally scorned. Major cities across the U.S. shut down gay-owned businesses, raided gay gathering places, and destroyed the lives of hundreds of men through entrapment, harassment, extortion, and/or brutal, often fatal assaults.

Considering I made him up, you’d expect me to know everything about Philip Potter. Well, I don’t. Philip is one cagey dude. The man’s got more secrets than the National Security Agency and tells me stuff only on a need-to-know basis.

He’s pushing 80 now. Anyone who has been out as long as Philip would be just as careful. Old habits die hard. The sixties were a horrible time to be gay in America.

In a conversation with his nephew in the first book, Philip mentions James, a lover who’d killed himself thirty years earlier. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I had no idea! Like everyone else, I had to know more. After Christmas Eve is Philip’s story—at least as much as he’s told me—about the weeks following James’s death in 1966.

Here’s the blurb:

As Philip Potter wraps up his last minute shopping on Christmas Eve, 1966, James Walker, his lover of six years, takes his life. Unaware of what waits for him at home, Philip drops off gifts to the homeless shelter, an act of generosity that later makes him a suspect in the murder of a male prostitute.


Two men drive yellow Continentals. One is a killer, with the blood of at least six hustlers on his hands. Both men have secrets. And as Philip is about to discover, James had kept secrets, too. But James wasn’t trying to frame him for murder… 


*This is the sixth of eleven stops on the After Christmas Eve Blog Hop. Excerpts appear in serial form along the hop, beginning with my post at


Excerpt #6 of 11

As he tried to focus on keeping his footing on the icy sidewalk, James sorted through the shattered fragments of his dreams for a shard to hold onto. In one afternoon, his father had decimated his hopes and aspirations, leaving nothing but despair and regret.

He wondered if his mother knew about the meeting. She’d been there that awful day when his father had kicked him out, turning her back and leaving the room when he’d pleaded with her to intervene. Roland treated her no better than he had James, but it didn’t excuse her absence or her failure to protect him from the man she’d married in haste.

No, even if she wasn’t in the room when his father had told him to leave, she was every bit as much to blame. His mother and father had thrown him out, together. Leaving him to fend for himself had been a joint decision. They had abandoned him, like an infant in a basket. Only instead of a hospital or church, they’d dropped him off at the bus station with ten dollars in his pocket.

That had been the worst day of his life—until today. Six years ago there had been a silver lining. Escaping the father who had always hated him had spared him the constant criticism and incessant disapproval that permeated every horrid, painful minute spent in his company. Although the odds were against him, asking his father for help was a gamble he had to take—an all or nothing bet that he’d lost.

And now he had nothing.

James should have known better than to give his father yet another chance to hurt him. What had possessed James to think he might have changed? When it came to hurting his wife and son, Roland Walker hadn’t missed an opportunity in his life. Today had been no different. He’d taken the opportunity to spoil James’s dreams and run with it.

Meeting Philip had restored James’s faith in mankind and given him reason to believe in himself. Philip offered a chance to leave behind the dangerous, high-risk lifestyle the other boys led on the streets. But thirty minutes with the father who despised him with a white-hot intensity left James with nothing to believe in but lies and shattered truths.

Continued 10/21on Chris T. Kat’s blog

Saturday, October 12, 2013

So, an update on what happened to me...

There's actually a lot of truth in that pic, by the way...
Okay, on Oct 2 at 3 am I got out of bed to used the bathroom... or that was the plan. What I found was my right side was numb. My leg wouldn't support me and my arm just flopped around uselessly. Scared half to death, I woke up the hubby and he called for an ambulance.
Folks, the early results said I'd had a stroke. And for the record, I'm only 43. Then the tears started because my whole right side was just... gone. Totally numb. And I'm right-handed. I could not control my hand at all.
The good news: at 10:45am feeling started coming back in my right side. I could walk, talk, move perfectly. My face hadn't drooped like most stroke victims. I looked like I always did. Then the tests started... CAT scan, MRI, angiogram, ultra sounds on my neck and heart... which mean no eating after midnight on those days. *Yuck*
The results: I did have a stroke, a VERY light stroke. Damage was on the left side of my brain, which was why I went numb on the right side for a short while.
Guess you'd say it was a warning of what COULD  have happened. Tests showed the left side of the carotid artery was 90% blocked. Yeah, that's freaking huge. That led to surgery this past Monday to get all the junk out of the artery.
The surgery went well, I'm happy to say. I got to go home Tuesday. Oh yeah, they have me doped up on good stuff too, along with a bunch of other pills I now have to take. I go back to see the surgeon at the end of the month. Not real happy with the scar that runs down the left side of my neck... but considering I could have died... I'll deal with it, lol. Even if I do look like Frankensteins Bride right now.

This, of course, means I won't be going to GRL. There's just no way. Hell, I can't get through the day without several pain meds, and they won't let me drive for 4 weeks. Then  PT will start. The stroke did effect my balance somewhat. And I hate that because there were folks I wanted to meet at GRL. *sigh* Stupid stroke, lol.
So... I'm not on the computer much. I'm still pretty fuzzy but I am checking stuff on my phone. I don't always answer, but I am getting the notes and emails.  It's frustrating trying to type this hopped up on drugs lol, and y'all know my typing can be rather... wild.... on a good day, lol. My thoughts are all over the place. This little note has taken over an hour, and that's waaaaay too long. The pain med is great, but man, it makes me nuts lol.
OH! This is the 9th day that I stopped smoking too. Having a stroke is pretty stong motivation for stopping.
I'll be back, guys. For having a stroke, I'm pretty much back to normal already. Just as soon as I can get off the damn pain med, lol, I can try to get back to work. Wrapped in Leather is going into editing soon, and The Harvest: Taken is coming right along. I did get the cover draft for Harvest Sunday before surgery. I really like it. I okay'd the cover so there shouldn't be any changes. I just need to email the CA and make sure I can show what she sent.
 Love ya guys, I'll take to ya soon. :)

Friday, October 11, 2013

Welcome Tim Smith


I’m pleased to announce the long-awaited release of my newest romantic thriller Warning Shot from eXtasy Books. I say long-awaited because it took me a while to get this one to market, but it was worth it. This is the third installment in the Nick Seven spy series, featuring my two most popular characters, former CIA spooks Nick Seven and Felicia Hagens. They were featured in the best-selling books Memories Die Last and Never Look Back. Although this is part of a series, the books do not need to be read in order, as each one is a stand-alone adventure.


For the uninitiated, Nick and Felicia live in Key Largo, Florida, where they fled to get away from the spy game and intrigue. Nick is a moody action hero plagued by memories of things from his past, and Felicia is the Barbadian beauty who was once his co-worker. This installment finds them helping Nick’s former mentor from his spy days when it appears that this person has gotten involved in something he shouldn’t have.


Nick Seven and Felicia Hagens left the CIA for the laidback ease of the Florida Keys, leaving behind a life of intrigue. When Nick’s former mentor becomes part of a conspiracy with international repercussions, Nick breaks his self-imposed exile to stop him. The case throws Nick and Felicia into a juggernaut of espionage, government cover-ups and political assassinations. Will they succeed in stopping the plan in time? Can their relationship survive another unwanted adventure?


I think this is the fastest-paced thriller I’ve ever written, with something for everyone – action, great atmosphere, realistic characters and dialogue, humor, and enough heat between Nick and Felicia to make Key West in July feel like Alaska. There’s also a very strong romantic element between the two leads, one that keeps evolving and getting stronger with each new episode. Here’s an example: 


Nick brought Felicia’s hand to his mouth then kissed it. “That’s one of the reasons I’m glad I have you around. You always keep me focused.”


“Is that the only reason you’re glad I’m around?”


“No, but it’s a long list.”


She sat on his lap then ran her fingers through his hair. “I’ve got nothin’ but time, Tough Guy.”


He caressed her cheek “You’re resourceful, self-confident and independent.”


“You just described a Boy Scout. Can’t you do better than that?”


He kissed her. “You’re incredibly hot, passionate about everything and waking up next to you makes all my teenaged dreams come true.” He paused. “Plus you make a mean stir-fried shrimp.”


Felicia laughed and lightly smacked his arm. “Is that the best you’ve got? You were always better at foreplay.”


“You make me feel alive and I can’t wait to start every day all over again with you.”


She cupped his cheek and peered into his eyes. “That’s what I was gonna say. It’s kinda hard to explain but when I first saw you, all that time ago in London, it was like a jolt of electricity went through me. Then when you quit and I went back to Barbados, I felt this big empty inside, like somethin’ vital had been taken away.”


He traced her jaw with his fingers. “Same thing I felt. I’m glad we finally got together.”


She rested her lips on his and they kissed deeply. Nick inhaled her scent, a libido-boosting blend of Giorgio Red and her natural body chemistry. He massaged her neck while Felicia caressed his cheek. The linger they kissed the more aroused Nick became.


Felicia pulled back and smiled. “What’s that I feel pokin’ me from underneath?”


“Three guesses and the first two don’t count.”


She chuckled seductively. “What is it about this climate that always has you horny?”


“It isn’t the climate, it’s you.” He rubbed her cheek. “It’s always been you.”


                                                                   * * * *


I’ve been asked why I chose the Florida Keys as the setting for this series. When I sat down to write the first one, I asked myself a question – if I were a former spy who wanted to start over, where would I go? Since I had recently returned from a trip to Key Largo, the answer was obvious. The atmosphere down there lends itself to anonymity, because people basically don’t care who you are or where you came from. In doing research I discovered that the Keys have a lot of former cops and government operatives among its nameless residents. That sealed it for me.

My website is


Tim Smith is an award-winning, bestselling author whose books range from romantic mystery/thrillers to contemporary erotic romance. He is also a freelance photographer. When he isn’t pursuing those two passions, he can be found in the Florida Keys, doing research in between parasailing and seeking out the perfect Mojito.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

The Hop into Fall Blog Hop is here. Just click on the link and that will take you straight to the post. :)

* * * *

 Nighttime Wishes #13

Welcome to the Wednesday Briefers flash group. The short stories have a maximum of a 1000 word count plus links at the bottom to the other flashers. The prompts for this week are:

"You know what I want."

or use the game Solitaire

or use a puzzle in some way

or "Tastes soooo good."

or use a source of light in some way

or have someone in your story use an evil laugh

or "Hey, Mister(Miss) can you spare..."

or have one of your characters go to a thrift shop.
~ ~ ~
~Nighttime Promises is the 3rd book in the Nighttime series, which is published by Romance First. I'm using the prompts to help me get going on this book. Yes, this is a tentacle story lol.
Fair warning! I'm going to pull this about 3/4th of the way through, expand it, and send it off. Most of the story will be shown on here though. I'm giving this warning so no one will be caught off guard when I pull the story. 

Nighttime Promises #13

Bryan didn’t fight the tentacle that entered his mouth. He now knew what would happen. The tentacle seeped a fluid into his mouth and he swallowed; the fluid set him on fire. His body writhed from the intense pleasure.

Daroshi knew that to his human, it would taste sweet, like sugar water. Bryan sucked hard. His eyes rolled back in his head. Daroshi’s body heated and he growled low in his throat, pressing against Bryan. The need to mate strained his willpower to the limit.

“Mmm,” Bryan groaned around the tentacle in his mouth as his hips thrust. Come on, you know what I want.

Feeling his mate’s desperation, Daroshi’s mating tentacle released from its shaft and lowered until it rubbed against Bryan’s ass. The mating tentacle discharged its own lube, the wetness sliding between Bryan’s cheeks and rubbing over his hole.

Bryan shivered as tentacles tightened on his wrists.

Daroshi’s mating tentacle played with Bryan’s hole, lightly bumping against his entrance. Bryan grunted around the tentacle in his mouth, a low whine. Daroshi turned his head. Their eyes locked as Bryan pleaded as best he could with his mouth filled.

“You wanted to fuck, yes? Isn’t that what you said? ” Daroshi asked, knowing Bryan couldn’t answer. “I’m going to pound my mating tentacle into you and stretch open that hot ass of yours. Going to fill you full.”

Small moans seeped around the tentacle in Bryan’s mouth. He nodded his head frantically.

“Not yet, mate. You just keep sucking on that tentacle. You’ll get fucked when I’m ready.”

Bryan sucked harder. Daroshi took a minute to admire Bryan trapped, his legs wrapped in tentacles. Who am I kidding? I’m as ready as he is. Unable to wait, his mating tentacle pushed against Bryan’s entrance, the pressure building until the guardian muscle gave way. He entered Bryan in one long, smooth stroke. Bryan flinched and Daroshi rumbled deeply in his chest, his tentacle unmoving.

Those odd blue eyes stared at him, willing him to wait. Finally, Bryan nodded his head since he couldn't speak. Daroshi’s mating tentacle wiggled inside him once the pain was gone, squirming and twisting, moving in ways a dick couldn’t, rubbing Bryan’s prostate as the tentacle stroking his dick sped up.

That musky scent Daroshi gave off spiked, and his smell drifted around them. Daroshi’s pants were harsh and the growls were low, but gaining in volume. The tentacle in Bryan’s mouth started to thrust as Daroshi fucked Bryan at both ends. This went on for some time as Bryan lay helpless, his eyes telling Daroshi clearly he was loving it. 

“I’m going to… Come for me, mate!”

A strangled scream greeted Daroshi as Bryan’s body did as it was told… and came.


Daroshi lay still in their new bed, holding Bryan. He wouldn’t admit, even on the threat of disembowelment, but the thing Bryan called a mattress was… Well, gods, lying in it was almost as heady as making a difficult kill. The thing was so soft and cradled his body. He’d never had such luxury, had never wanted it.

He couldn’t be seen as weak but now, thanks to his mate, he could wallow in such opulence. It was a well-known fact their species spoiled their mates. Now that he’d tried out this mattress thing, he couldn’t wait to see what else Bryan would demand they needed for comfort.

So what if he enjoyed these things too?

Bryan shifted against him and Daroshi held his mate closer. He knew the second Bryan left sleep behind and came awake. “Have a good nap?”

Bryan blinked. “Um, yeah, I guess. Thing is, I don’t remember falling asleep.”

Daroshi ran his hand through Bryan’s dark hair. “Well, let’s just say you did more than scream when I made love to you. You passed out.”

“I passed out?” Bryan’s eyes widened, then he snorted. “Jesus, never done that before you. Of course, I was doing good if I could find someone who would fuck me, never mind fucking me unconscious.”

Daroshi growled. “I do not want to hear of others. There will be no others now. Besides, those men were brainless idiots. It took a warrior to see what you needed. You respond so beautifully, and that’s all for me.”

“Yeah… yeah, I do.”

“So, I could say the sex was good, yes?”

Bryan touched Daroshi’s lips. “You fucked me unconscious. Yeah, I’d say the sex was passable.”

Daroshi raised one scaly eyebrow, a mock frown on his face. “Passable? Passable? Maybe I should take you again and again, see if I can get better than ‘passable’.

Bryan shivered outrageously. “Oooh, I’m so scared. Maybe I had better ‘fess up…” Bryan turned serious. “It was the best sex of my life, Daroshi. Nothing, and I mean nothing, has ever been that good. You blew my mind, man.”

Daroshi kissed Bryan on the forehead. “You sound like you think that’ll be the last time I ‘blow your mind’. It won’t be, I promise you that.”

“You promise me, huh?”

“Absolutely. I’ll do anything, promise you anything, just to make you happy. You are my life, my greatest treasure, Bryan.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Bryan stretched, his toes pointing. “Wow, how long was I asleep? I’m a little stiff… and no, not that kind of stiff.”

“Two Earth hours.”

Bryan goggled. “Good Lord. Really? And you just lay here and held me?”

“Of course.”

“That’s… that’s just… You really are something.” Bryan stretched again. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

Daroshi mumbled, “Someone just tried to kill you not long ago, so yes, I imagine your body did need rest.”

Bryan sat up and twisted, popping his back. “True. And on that happy note, I think it’s time we talked about what happened when you spoke to your Council.”