Countdown to Bound, Part 3 with SJD Peterson

March 7, 2016

Over the next few weeks, join me as we catch up with old friends from Pup, Tag Team, and Pony, all leading up to the exciting conclusion of the Guards of Folsom series, Bound, coming March 14.

 

From Pony: Max and Aiden

 

KICKED BACK on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table, Aiden took a swig of his beer and looked over at Max. “My mom and dad keep asking when they are going to get to meet you.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting them,” Max responded without taking his eyes from the TV.

“I really think we should make plans when your schedule eases up a bit.”

Max nodded. “I’m good with whatever.”

Aiden turned his attention to the TV and tried to find some interest in the program, but he couldn’t. He was bored. “How can you watch this crap?” he finally asked. “You’re smart, educated, a man of the world, and you’re watching actors run around the bush acting like outlaws. It’s embarrassing.”

“Appalachian Outlaws is reality TV. You know, like real. These are not actors.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” When Max didn’t respond, only continued to stare at the ridiculous antics of the men defending their moonshine, Aiden added, “You can’t actually think this crap is real?”

“It’s entertaining to think so,” Max drawled and waved a dismissive hand at the TV. “I’d love to go running around the mountains, try living off the land.”

“Daniel Boone you are not. I don’t think you’d last past dark,” Aiden snickered.

Max clicked off the TV and tossed the remote on the coffee table before turning on the couch to better face Aiden. “Was that a jab at my manhood?”

Aiden ran his gaze appreciatively over Max’s crotch and licked his lips. “I’d never jab that. Suck, kiss, stroke, absolutely. But never jab such a fine instrument.”

“Quit trying to suck up, ’cause it’s working. Now, stop looking at my dick and answer the question. You really don’t think I would survive past dark?”

“They don’t have Internet or cell service up there on a good day. I’ve also been in your closet. Not so much as a decent pair of walking boots or shoes. If that wasn’t bad enough, your aversion to bugs makes it almost a guarantee you’ll be running in search of the first luxury hotel. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m just saying you’re not quite made for that kind of adventure.”

“And you are, Mr. Indiana?” Max countered.

“I grew up on a dairy farm. I’m conditioned for hard work and bugs. And shit, lots and lots of shit. You, on the other hand….”

“I, on the other hand, what?”

“I’m gonna get another beer. You want something?” Aiden pushed to his feet.

“On the other hand, what?” Max repeated, following behind Aiden.

Aiden pulled a beer from the fridge and refilled his mug. He stepped out of Max’s swatting distance before finally admitting, “You’re not cut out for labor-intensive work.”

“Is that so?” Max challenged. He stepped up close and grabbed Aiden’s hip, jerking him forward. “I’d say I can handle some very intense work. I’m man enough to ride your ass hard enough for you to tap out.”

“Apples and oranges, Max. Apple and oranges. And may I reiterate here, no bugs when you’re working me.” Max was a madman when so much as a fly got inside the condo. He hated anything that swarmed, flew, or crawled if it had more than four legs. The thought of Max roughing it was pretty funny, and he couldn’t hold back the snort the idea produced.

“I do believe you’re laughing at me.” Max’s hold on Aiden’s hip tightened.

The hard hold and the growl in Max’s voice went straight to Aiden’s groin, and he rolled his hips against Max’s. “Would I do that?”

“Yes, you would, and lucky for you, I suddenly feel the urge to prove my manliness rather than spank your naughty ass.”

“Oh really? And just pray tell, how do you plan to go about that?”

Max slid his free hand around Aiden’s waist and grabbed his ass. Max leaned in and ran his tongue up the side of Aiden’s neck to the sensitive area beneath his ear.

“Hmm, I’m thinking of pushing you down to your knees and shoving my cock down your throat.” Max nipped Aiden’s earlobe, causing him to shudder and arch. “Or better yet, bending you over the island and shoving my cock up your ass would be pretty damn manly, don’t you think?”

Aiden tipped his head to the side, giving Max all the room he needed to lick and taste and nip. “I’m thinking both would show your manly prowess, so I’m good with either. Both suits me too.”

“Both, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“On your knees, boy.”

Aiden dropped to his knees without question as Max unbuckled his pants. The instant Max exposed his beautiful hard cock, Aiden opened his mouth and it watered in anticipation.

“Greedy little slut, aren’t you?”

“Only for you.”

“Good answer,” Max praised. He fisted his fingers in Aiden’s hair, holding his head still as he guided his dick to Aiden’s mouth. He ran the tip over Aiden’s lips, painting them with the arousal seeping from the slit.

Aiden moaned wantonly at the delicious flavor and lapped at Max’s cockhead, seeking out more of the rich, bitter taste. But Aiden wasn’t the only greedy one. Max obviously wasn’t satisfied with flicks and swirls of tongue if the way he pushed deep into Aiden’s mouth with one hard thrust was any indication. The sudden movement triggered Aiden’s gag reflex, but he recovered quickly, tilting his head back slightly and relaxing his throat.

Having an aggressive and dominant lover, Aiden had learned quickly to give up control, and he did so willingly. It still amazed Aiden that he got off on being forced to his knees and having his mouth fucked so forcefully, but he did and big-time. He loved the slight sting of pain from the tight grip Max had on his hair, the snap of his lover’s hips as he pushed deep and hard because he knew Aiden could take it.

They picked up their familiar rhythm, Aiden gripping Max’s lightly furred thighs, not restraining or encouraging, only holding on, loving the way the muscles flexed and rolled beneath his palms. Max began to tremble slightly, the moans and grunts growing in frequency and intensity, signaling that he was beginning to chase his orgasm and then….

Ring. Ring.

Max froze midthrust, his flared cockhead resting on Aiden’s tongue. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Aiden pulled off Max’s cock with a pop. “You’re not going to answer that now, are you?”

Max bent and searched his pants pocket. “I have to. I’m on call.”

“Seriously?” Aiden tried his best not to pout, but it was hard with Max’s thick and ruddy cock just inches from his face. He briefly thought about sucking it back into his mouth, but if it was a patient in distress calling for Max, it would be selfish to demand Max’s attention in such a situation. He hated to share Max, but in this case, he’d concede.

“Who is it?” Aiden asked when Max looked at the display on his cell and frowned.

“It’s Blake.” Max pushed the On button. “Hi, Blake. You caught me at a bad time. Can I call you back in a minute?”

“Several minutes,” Aiden whispered.

Max held up a finger as he listened to whatever it was Blake was saying, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Aiden knew from the way Max rested the cell phone in the crook between cheek and shoulder while he pulled up his pants and fastened them that whatever the conversation was, his and Max’s playtime was over.

“Have you called the police?”

Aiden jumped to his feet at the mention of the law and stood next to Max, trying to hear what was being said.

“Okay, yeah, I get that. Aiden and I are on our way.”

“What was that about?” Aiden asked with concern.

“Tek needs our help. Apparently something about wicked scary motorcycle clubs, Feds, danger. I didn’t understand it all, but from what I could decipher from the quick ramblings, Jamie has been kidnapped and they can’t go to the police. They need our help.”

“What can we do?”

“Don’t know yet, but Blake asked us to come to the club and I told him we would be there.”

Aiden didn’t know the guys at the club as well, but he’d begun to build a strong relationship with Ty, and the few times he’d met Micah and Mason, he’d grown fond of them. But Max was extremely close to the other members, thought of them as his extended family. And if Max wanted Aiden there, then he’d be there and do whatever he could to help out Max’s family.

 

Purchase Pony

Preorder Bound

BoundLG

Blurb:

Tek Cain & Jamie Ryan work at the Guards of Folsom BDSM club. After two years on the run from their old motorcycle club and the Feds, Tek & Jamie are finally able to relax and enjoy their new life in New York City. But the past won’t stay buried, and when the MC resurfaces, it’s Jamie who pays the price. Tek and the rest of the members at the Guards of Folsom must work together to get back one of their own.

In this, the final installment in the Guards of Folsom series, everyone must come together, bound as one in their quest to find Jamie and bring him home once and for all.

 

sjd-peterson

SJD Peterson, better known as Jo, is a bestselling and award-winning author of gay romance. She lives in Michigan with her Itty Bitty Kitty and Little Man. She does her best writing when under pressure of deadlines and at 3:00 a.m. when the world is quiet. Jo loves to tell stories about real people with real flaws. The happily ever after isn’t guaranteed unless it’s earned through hard work and growth. Oh, but when it’s comes, the rewards are all the better!

Facebook: www.facebook.com/SJD.Peterson
Blog: sjdpeterson.blogspot.com
Twitter: @SJDPeterson
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/4563849.S_J_D_Peterson
E-mail: sjdpeterson@gmail.com

Countdown to Bound with SJD Peterson

February 22, 2016

Over the next few weeks, join me as we catch up with old friends from Pup, Tag Team, and Pony, all leading up to the exciting conclusion of the Guards of Folsom series, Bound, coming March 14.

 

From Pup: Micah and Tackett

MICAH STOOD naked before the full-length mirror, lovingly running a finger over the soft leather of his collar—Tackett’s collar—with a broad smile on his face. It hadn’t been all that long since he’d forced himself into Tackett’s home and heart. Yet, Micah barely remembered a life before Tackett. That’s not to say he’d blocked out his past, far from it. The difference being, he’d lived his life fluttering from one thing to another, his mind on rapid fire and rarely landing long enough to truly take joy in anything.

Tackett changed that.

Micah cocked his head and really studied his reflection. He looked the same and yet felt worlds away from who he had been. He’d grown, matured, learned under Tackett’s loving hands. He attempted to smooth down his hair, an impossible feat, and tugged at a wayward curl. Perhaps it was time for a haircut; present a more grown-up Micah to the world, less of a tease.

“You look beautiful, pup.”

Startled, Micah’s heart leapt and he jerked his head to the side to see Tackett leaning against the door with a broad smile.

“Thank you, Sir,” Micah responded, returning the smile.

“You looked deep in thought. Care to share what you were thinking about?”

Micah turned back to his reflection. “I was thinking, maybe it’s time for a new look, a grown-up look.” He tugged another curl, watching it bounce back. “Manlier.”

Tackett crossed the room in three long strides and grabbed Micah’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his hair. “You are all man, pup, and if you dare cut a single curl from your head, I will deny you the right to come until they grow back.”

Micah looked up at Tackett from under his long lashes, his body heating from Tackett’s nearness. “Will you spank me, Sir?”

Tackett released Micah’s wrist and ran his hand gently along Micah’s hair, running his fingers through it. “Only if you spare the curls.”

Micah slid his arm around Tackett’s waist, pushing up close and nuzzling Tackett’s neck. “They make me look like a kid.” He brushed his lips softly over the warm skin.

“I assure you, I have never thought of you as a kid.”

Micah pulled his head back and gave Tackett a disbelieving look. Tackett laughed and pecked him on the nose. “Okay, I might have referred to you as a kid when we first met.”

“I do believe you asked me if I was old enough to shave, Sir.” Micah started to giggle when he remembered his response. Only my balls.

“Yeah, well, that’s because I’m an old man. I promise you, I’ve never thought of you as a child.” He moved his hand from Micah’s hair, running it along his back to his ass and squeezed. “I’ve always known you’re all man, even when you’re my boy.”

“I like being your boy.” Micah went back to nuzzling Tackett’s neck, pushing up close and finding a little friction for his hardening cock along the soft cotton of Tackett’s pants.

“Good, and my boy will have a head full of curls. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir, but—” He yelped when a hard slap landed on his ass.

Tackett rubbed the abused flesh. “There is no but except this one. Now, I do believe you were supposed to be in here getting dressed.”

“I got distracted, Sir.” Micah rolled his hips, rutting just a little. “Wouldn’t you rather stay home tonight? I can make us a quick dinner.”

“We have reservations.”

“I know.” Micah pouted. So much for the maturity thingy, but he was willing to use what he had.

Emboldened by the fact that Tackett wasn’t releasing him but rather massaging both his ass cheeks, Micah stepped up his game. He pulled Tackett’s shirt from the waistband of his pants and slid his hands beneath the material, running them along the taut muscles of Tackett’s back.

“Would they be horribly upset if we were late?”

“Yes. It’s a very exclusive restaurant, pup. It took weeks to get in.”

Micah nipped at the exposed skin at the vee of Tackett’s dress shirt and inhaled the appealing scent of Tackett’s warm skin. “A quick appetizer, then?”

Tackett didn’t respond, allowing Micah to rub and rut against him for a few moments until Micah was achingly hard and needing.

“What are you supposed to be doing?”

“Taking your clothes off, Sir?” He reached for Tackett’s belt.

Tackett grabbed his hand, halting his movement. “Are you turned on?”

“God, yes.” Micah tried to pull free of Tackett’s grasp.

“Needing?” Tackett’s voice was deep, husky, and seductive, sending a zing of arousal straight to Micah’s balls.

“Yes,” Micah huffed out. He continued to struggle, needing to free himself and get the offending pants off his man.

The hold on Micah’s wrist tightened to a viselike grip, painful, but it was the snap in Tackett’s voice when he said “pup” that caused Micah to go still. He knew that tone, couldn’t not respond to it.

Tackett took a step back. “Display, boy.”

Micah was trembling with the force of his arousal, but he locked down on his muscles, complying with his Dom’s order, although not without great difficulty.

“Good boy,” Tackett praised. He ran the tip of one finger along Micah’s straining erection. “Very pretty.”

“Thank you, Sir.” He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to thrust. Fuck, he wanted to get off so goddamn bad.

“It’s a shame the restaurant requires clothes.”

“We can always stay home, Sir,” Micah suggested once again, silently praying Tackett would agree.

“Aww, pup, you hurt my feelings. I’ve been looking forward to tonight.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Micah responded, really not feeling all that apologetic, although the guilt did make his belly flip-flop.

“Now be a good boy and finish dressing for dinner.” With that, Tackett turned on his heel and left the room, the very final click of the door engaging leaving no question as to whether Micah was done begging.

Tackett could ask him to do anything and he’d do it without question, trusting, knowing in his heart his Dom would never ask him to do anything that would harm him. Tackett rarely asked him to do much. Well, much other than to always think of Tackett’s needs before his own. Something that was—most of the time—as easy as breathing. When he pleased his Dom, his own rewards were always beyond simple pleasure, they were increased tenfold.

Micah knew his place; having his day set out for him—what he wore, what he cooked, his chores, a full schedule—had done a world of good for his state of mind. Most outsiders wouldn’t understand his need. Many could never imagine giving up complete control to such a degree, but Micah didn’t care what others would or wouldn’t do, or what they thought of him. For the first time in his life, he felt at peace. His mind was no longer the enemy. That wasn’t to say he still didn’t struggle with hyperactivity and an overactive mind—he looked down at his raging hard-on and sighed—or that it wasn’t difficult to give up such control at times. But what he did know was he was a very happy pup and he was completely and unconditionally loved by the most amazing man in the world. Still, life was a lot more fun being naughty sometimes—like now.

Micah stood staring once again at his refection. His body was flush with arousal, hard cock ruddy and straining upward, unfulfilled. He briefly thought about relieving a little pressure. It would only take one or two hard pulls. Instead, he huffed out a frustrated breath, turned away from his image, and grabbed his pants from the pile of clothes Tackett had laid out for him. He stepped into them and winced as the soft cotton material slid across his erection, and tucking himself within the cotton, buttoning, and zipping up was torturous. Even the light touches were nearly enough to send him over the edge. He struggled to find a calm mindset, tried to push down his overwhelming need to come, focus on anything other than his body’s needs.

“Fancy dinner, bah.” He pulled on his shirt.

He didn’t understand Tackett’s need to occasionally hobnob with the well-to-do. Living in Tackett’s home, Micah had grown to appreciate the finer things in life. He truly was blessed. But still, where Tackett’s idea of a special night in celebration included restrictive clothing, proper manners, and bubbly, Micah’s ideal evening for any occasion was a pair of comfy sweats—or better yet, being naked—curled up on the couch, popcorn, a good movie, and Tackett’s warmth surrounding him.

Micah finished dressing and let out a heavy sigh. “A few hours and he’ll be all yours again,” Micah reminded himself. He really was being quite the selfish pup.

“Let’s go, boy,” Tackett yelled from the hall, followed by a quick rap on the door.

Micah slid into his loafers and ran his fingers through his curls in a futile attempted to smooth them down. He walked woodenly—appropriate with the wood in his slacks—and joined Tackett in the front room. He was just about to complain again, or perhaps beg, when he spotted Tackett buttoning up his suit coat. He snapped his mouth shut. He smiled broadly. One thing about fancy dinners was his man looked damn good all dressed up.

Micah whistled. “Looking sexy, Sir.”

Tackett turned to look at Micah over his shoulder with a sly grin. “That’s why I endure the stuffy clothes, to have you look at me like that.”

“Apparently you haven’t been paying attention to the looks I give you when you’re naked. You’re far more impressive with nothing at all on.”

“It won’t work,” Tackett reprimanded. He pecked Micah on the forehead before stepping away. “Now behave, pup. We’re still going out.”

“I wasn’t even thinking that.” Hoping—yes. Confident—no. “I was being honest. You really are the sexiest when you don’t hide your impressive body.”

“I’m an old man,” Tackett sniffed and held out Micah’s coat.

Micah shrugged into his jacket with Tackett’s help, then grabbed Tackett’s arm before he could move away, meeting Tackett’s questioning gaze with a serious one of his own. “I wish you would stop saying that. You are not old, only slightly seasoned and in the best possible way, I assure you.”

Tackett was far from old. He had a body most twenty-year-olds would die to have. But it was the knowledge and wisdom that was only obtained through life experience and etched in each beautiful line on his face that made him all the more appealing to Micah. The laugh lines around Tackett’s hazel eyes were particular favorites of Micah’s.

WALKING THROUGH the door of Grand Spectacle, a contemporary French restaurant, Micah stood slightly behind Tackett, a position of comfort. While Tackett spoke to the maître d’, Micah did his best not to pull at the restrictive clothes. The paradox was not lost on him. He loved to be bound, but this was different. While it was still for Tackett’s pleasure and he wouldn’t deny his Dom anything, in this fancy-pants world, Micah simply couldn’t stop worrying that he’d somehow embarrass himself or worse, Tackett.

Grand Spectacle was opulent. White linen covered the tables, crystal wineglasses and candleholders on each. Men sat stiffly in tailored suits. Women were in dresses and dripping with diamond jewelry, an air of affluence swirling around them. Everything about the place was out of Micah’s league and beyond his comfort level, but Tackett was always pushing him to expand his experiences. It wasn’t just that he felt out of place in such a fancy restaurant, but that he never understood paying the high fees for such decadence. However, he trusted there was a method to Tackett’s madness even if at the moment he didn’t understand it.

“Right this way, Mr. Austin,” the maître d’ said.

Tackett laid his hand at the small of Micah’s back, leading him into the restaurant. Once at the table, Tackett pulled out a chair for Micah and waited for him to sit before taking the chair next to him.

“Carlos will be right with you,” the maître d’ informed them. He handed them each a heavy leather-bound menu before leaving them alone.

Micah opened the menu and scanned the pages quickly before closing it and setting it aside. “I can’t read French. Do they have burgers and fries?”

“No, I don’t believe they do,” Tackett chuckled. He put his hand on Micah’s thigh, teasing his fingers along the inseam of Micah’s pants. “What are you in the mood for?”

Micah looked down at the hand on his thigh and then looked up at Tackett from beneath his lashes. “It’s not on the menu.”

“Behave, pup. That’s for dessert.”

Oh yeah, he was so ready for dessert. Forcing his thoughts away from his hardening dick, he did his best to focus on getting through dinner—quickly. “I don’t have a preference. How about you surprise me and order me something yummy?”

“I can do that.”

The waiter came over and introduced himself as Carlos. Micah sat enthralled as Tackett spoke fluent French. There was still so much he didn’t know about his Dom and lover. Carlos poured them each a glass of red wine before excusing himself.

Micah leaned over and whispered, “That was so damn sexy, Sir.”

Tackett picked up his glass and brought it to his nose, sniffing it before swirling the dark liquid and taking a small sip. “Ordering dinner is sexy?”

“Jesus, that was sexy too. But yeah, ordering dinner is sexy when it’s you doing it. Add in a little French and I could come in my pants.”

“Don’t you dare. It will ruin our dessert plans, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to deny me the pleasure of my after-dinner treats.”

With the long linen tablecloth obstructing the view, Micah grabbed the hand Tackett had on his thigh and pulled it up to the hard bulge in his slacks. “I’d never deny you anything,” he whispered. He pushed into Tackett’s touch.

Tackett curled his fingers around Micah’s cock, squeezing and causing Micah to take in a sharp breath. “You are hell-bent on driving me nuts tonight, aren’t you, pup?”

“It’s seems only fair, Sir.” Micah bit his lip to keep back the moan Tackett’s touch elicited.

Tackett squeezed Micah’s dick one more time, then pulled away. “Drink your wine, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.” Micah pouted.

Tackett sat back in his chair, sipping his wine as he looked around the restaurant. “I told you that pout wasn’t going to work on me tonight.”

Micah glanced down to Tackett’s lap and noticed the tent growing in his trousers and smirked. “Not even a little bit?”

“Nope. This is a nice place, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Micah agreed, but his gaze never left Tackett. Nothing or no one could hold Micah’s focus like Tackett. It had been that way since he’d first laid eyes on the man. Sure, he’d struggled with his hyperactive brain, still did at times, probably always would. But with Tackett’s help, Micah was able to control it a lot better than he used to, and every day with Tackett was a pure joy.

Carlos returned to the table and set a plate down in front of Micah. The scents of garlic, butter, and grilled steak wafted up and caused his belly to growl. “Wow, this looks and smells amazing.” Micah laid his napkin across his lap before grabbing his silverware.

“Filet mignon stuffed with seasoned goat cheese,” Tackett commented.

“Oh, you do know me too well.”

“I simply know what you like.”

Micah’s mouth watered, but he held back, waiting until Tackett picked up his fork and took a bite of his pasta before digging in to his own meal. He moaned his pleasure around the first bite.

Neither Micah nor Tackett said much during the meal. The food, the setting, the company was comfortable, easy, and soon Micah was no longer feeling out of his element nor did the clothes bother him—too much.

Micah dropped his fork on his empty plate and pushed it away. “I am stuffed. I can’t believe I ate all of it, but it was sooooo good,” he purred.

“Did you leave room for dessert?” Tackett asked, waving over the waiter.

“Only the kind that burns calories rather than packs them on.” Micah patted his belly.

“What a shame.” Tackett gestured for the arriving waiter to lean down. He whispered something to Carlos, but Micah wasn’t able to make out what they were saying.

“Very good, sir,” Carlos said with a smile. He leaned back and picked up the dirty plates.

“What was that about?” Micah asked as soon as Carlos was out of earshot.

“Just sending a compliment to the chef.”

“Uh-huh. That’s a deep secret, huh?”

“That it is,” Tackett said curtly.

He was up to something, Micah could tell from the smug smile on Tackett’s face and the way he kept his eyes averted. It was driving him nuts. He wanted to ask what the hell but knew better. It would be futile. Tackett didn’t do anything until he was ready and only on his terms, something Micah both loved and disliked about his Dom.

A few minutes passed and Micah began to shift uncomfortably in his chair when Carlos didn’t return and Tackett continued to focus on everything within the restaurant but Micah. “Is he bringing the check soon?” Micah asked. He shifted again.

“Yes.”

Micah wiped his mouth and set his napkin aside, picked up his empty wine glass and set it back down. He fiddled and shifted, began bouncing his leg. “Will he be here soon?”

“It’s only been a couple of minutes, pup. Give the man a chance.”

A couple of minutes? Damn, it felt like hours. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Tackett laid his hand back on Micah’s thigh, massaging. “Take a deep breath and relax. We’re in no hurry. Have nowhere to be at any set time.”

“Hard to do that.” Micah continued to shift and bounce his knee, scanning frantically for Carlos. “Talks of dessert and pleasure and secrets and your smug smile and—”

“My smug smile?”

Micah arched a brow at him. “Don’t play coy, Sir. It doesn’t work for you.”

“Here we are,” Carlos announced. He sat down two mugs, one a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Tackett and one that smelled like chocolate, heaping high with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. But it wasn’t the amazing smelling drink that had Micah’s jaw dropping, but the small blue bow tied around the teaspoon, attaching a gold ring to it.

“Is…?” Micah swallowed hard, his heart hammering. “Is that what I think it is?”

Tackett nonchalantly picked up his cup, blew the steam away, and took a small sip. “I don’t know. What do you think it is?”

Micah pulled the ribbon and released the ring, picking it up and running his fingertip over the cool metal. “Well, it’s either the fanciest presentation of hot chocolate or….” Micah’s eyes grew wide and he gaped at Tackett. “Oh my God. Are you asking me to marry you?”

To Micah’s utter surprise, Tackett took the ring from him and dropped to one knee next to Micah’s chair. “You’ve already accepted my collar and made me a very happy and proud Dom.” Tackett took Micah’s hand in his. “Micah Slayde, will you now make me the happiest and proudest man by becoming my husband too?”

“Yes. Oh. My. God. Yes!” Micah squealed. He launched himself at Tackett, wrapping his arms around his neck and peppering his man’s face with kisses.

Micah was scarcely aware of the applause or gasps and congrats. He only had eyes for Tackett. He swore if he loved the man any more, his damn heart would explode.

Micah thought maybe he’d drunk his hot chocolate but wasn’t sure as he floated out of the restaurant. The only thing tethering him and keeping him from flying away was the firm hand holding his. Married? I’m going to get married. To Tackett!

“When? Should we have a big wedding, a small one, in between? Do you think we should have it in a church, justice of the peace? What about the reception? You do want to have a reception, don’t you? Maybe at the club? Oh wait, maybe you’d rather have it somewhere else like a banquet hall, keep the two events separate. Oh shit, I gotta call Phillip, he’s wonderful with planning events like this. He actually—”

Tackett’s warm mouth covering his cut off Micah’s words. His mind still reeled, flipping through one idea after another like a blinking neon sign, but then Tackett’s tongue was pushing deep, swirling with his. The flavor, the feel of Tackett’s slick, wet mouth sent a jolt straight to Micah’s cock, and then nothing else mattered other than getting more of his man. Micah slid his hands around Tackett’s waist, pulling their groins together, letting Tackett feel what he was doing to him, and moaning into the kiss when their hard cocks came in contact.

“That’s better.” Tackett nipped at Micah’s bottom lip.

“Better than what, Sir?” Micah groaned, still trying his best to rut against Tackett.

“That I, rather than wedding plans, have your full attention.”

“Wedding plans…. Oh right. Yay! I’m getting married. I—”

Tackett laid a finger over Micah’s lips. “Don’t you dare. We have plenty of time for that later. Now I just want to go home and have some dessert.”

“Mmm, is this my dessert?” Micah thrust against Tackett.

“No, it’s mine,” Tackett chuckled. “But I might be inclined to share.”

“Sharing is good between married folks, ya know,” Micah pointed out.

“Yes, it is. Now let’s go home.”

Micah had to control his steps, struggled to keep them in pace with Tackett’s when what he really wanted to do was break out into a run. The sooner they got home, the sooner he—they could celebrate.

The sound of “Like a Boss” playing informed Micah that Blake was calling Tackett.

Tackett pulled out his cell, looked at the display, and then arched a brow at Micah.

“What?” he responded, trying his best to sound innocent.

Tackett shook his head and answered the call. “Hey, Blake. How are you?” After a slight pause, Tackett stopped dead in his tracks. “That’s horrible. What can we do to help?”

“What is it?”

Tackett held up one finger to shush him.

Micah pushed close, trying to hear what Blake was saying that would put such a concerned look on Tackett’s face, but he could only hear jumbled words that made no sense. He shifted nervously from foot to foot, squeezing Tackett’s hand as his dread increased. Something was very wrong.

“We’ll be there within the hour.” Tackett returned his cell to his pocket.

“What’s going on? Be where in an hour?”

Tackett laid a hand against Micah’s cheek. “We’re going to have to postpone our dessert. Someone has kidnapped Jamie. We’ve gotta go to the club. Tek needs us.”

“Poor Jamie. Oh God, poor Tek. Of course we’ll be there. Let’s go.” Micah yanked on Tackett’s hand to get him moving. There was no question. Micah could be a bit selfish at times but not when it came to his friends. He’d do, and knew Tackett would too, whatever they could to help.

 

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Blurb:

Tek Cain & Jamie Ryan work at the Guards of Folsom BDSM club. After two years on the run from their old motorcycle club and the Feds, Tek & Jamie are finally able to relax and enjoy their new life in New York City. But the past won’t stay buried, and when the MC resurfaces, it’s Jamie who pays the price. Tek and the rest of the members at the Guards of Folsom must work together to get back one of their own.

In this, the final installment in the Guards of Folsom series, everyone must come together, bound as one in their quest to find Jamie and bring him home once and for all.

sjd-peterson

SJD Peterson, better known as Jo, is a bestselling and award-winning author of gay romance. She lives in Michigan with her Itty Bitty Kitty and Little Man. She does her best writing when under pressure of deadlines and at 3:00 a.m. when the world is quiet. Jo loves to tell stories about real people with real flaws. The happily ever after isn’t guaranteed unless it’s earned through hard work and growth. Oh, but when it’s comes, the rewards are all the better!

Facebook: www.facebook.com/SJD.Peterson
Blog: sjdpeterson.blogspot.com
Twitter: @SJDPeterson
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/4563849.S_J_D_Peterson
E-mail: sjdpeterson@gmail.com

 

Building Love with Avon Gale

September 20, 2015

Building Love

Hi there! My name is Avon Gale, and my first novel, “Let the Wrong Light In,” comes out on Friday. Yay! Dreamspinner was kind enough to offer me a blog post to say hello and tell you about the book. It’s my first novel, and I’m very excited to share it with you!

The story is about Avery Hextall, a promising junior associate at a commercial architecture firm, who has a stuffy, uptight project manager named Malin Lacroix that he can’t stand — and yet, totally wants to bang. When Avery’s design for a new performing arts center is chosen by the firm, Malin and Avery are forced to work closely together to see it built — and find themselves rushing headlong into a secretive, risky relationship that could cost them both their careers.

In order for them to have a future together, bold, impulsive Avery will have to come to terms with his own insecurities and help the emotionally-distant Malin move beyond a devastating tragedy from his past.

In the book, I use a lot of metaphors relating the characters to different aspects of buildings and architecture. Avery is an extrovert and a people-pleaser, so it made sense to me that he would be interested in commercial architecture, and in creating shared spaces for communities.

Malin, however, is an introvert who is more comfortable in his own head than with other people, and he began his career in residential design. Houses are symbols of our subconscious, and I thought it fit well with Malin’s personality that his initial interest in architecture would be residential in nature. How Malin eventually ends up as a project manager in a commercial firm is a part of their story.

I thought I’d take this opportunity to talk a little about the architecture that’s described in the book. I’m not an architect (too much math!) but I do have an art history degree, and one thing I’ve always loved is writing about art/architecture. I primarily studied ancient art, but I did have to take a few classes in modern and I always really enjoyed them. It’s helpful to me to have reference photographs to work with, so when I sat down to write I went looking for some examples of modern architecture, both commercial and residential, as research for the novel.

While the performing arts center that Avery designs is fictional, I based it on the work of architect Moshe Safdie. Safdie designed the Kauffman Performing Arts center in Kansas City and the United States Institute of Peace Headquarters in DC, as well as various other community buildings throughout Canada, the US, and Israel. He’s noted for his use of strong geometric patterns and bold curves, and glass and windows feature heavily in all of his designs —  much like Avery’s.

Safdie’s goal as an architect is to provide meaningful, inclusionary spaces for communities to come together, and he’s also known to embrace sustainability and incorporate green spaces into his building plans. This also reminded me very much of Avery, and while the Knight Performing Arts Center isn’t based on one particular building, Safdie was definitely my inspiration.

United_States_Institute_of_Peace.jpg

United States Institute of Peace (Moshe Safdie)

Also, while on a boat tour of the city of Montreal in 2012, it was seeing Safdie’s Habitat 67 that made me want to write a book about architects! Initially my commercial architect was going to be French-Canadian like Safdie, but characters are contrary creatures and Avery just wouldn’t cooperate. So I decided to make my project-manager and residential designer French-Canadian, instead. Hence, Malin Lacroix.

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Habitat 67, Montreal (Moshe Safdie)

As for Malin, his designs were based on mid-century modernist architects like Craig Ellwood and A. Quincy Jones. Both were noted for their use of strong lines, light and glass, and Ellwood has a great quote about how truly great architecture should invoke strong emotions from the viewer.

As Malin’s emotions are definitely tied up with one particular house in the story, I thought that was particularly fitting for him. I also saw a great picture of Ellwood smoking, which immediately made me think of Malin. Some of Ellwood and Jones’ work is a bit too dated now to be entirely what I saw in my head when I thought of Malin’s Berkshire House, but the general ideas are there.

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Daphne House (Craig Ellwood)

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Holmby Hills Home (A. Quincy Jones)

I had a lot of fun looking for the reference photos for the various buildings and design styles in the book, and if you’re interested in looking at any of them, I’ve got a board on my Pinterest devoted to locations. And if anyone finds a house that looks like the one described in the novel, send it my way as I’d love to see it!

What kind of building would you say best describes you, and why? Sleek and modern, overwrought and gothic (that’d definitely be mine), classic and elegant? Would your building avatar be made of glass, include water slides for no reason (because mine would), have soaring towers and spiral staircases? The possibilities are endless! Leave a comment, and a picture or link if you like! One commenter will be chosen at random to win a copy of the book.

Let the Wrong Light In is available for pre-order on Dreamspinner’s website, and will be released on September 25th.

I love talking to people basically all the time, so hit me up on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest and come say hello! You can also find me on my website, www.avongalewrites.com.

Kinky Experiences with Grace R. Duncan

July 6, 2015

kinky experiences

Hello everyone! This is Grace R. Duncan and today is the release of my new contemporary BDSM novel, Turning His Life Around.

I actually started Turning a long time ago. When I first started writing it, I was just beginning to understand all that BDSM was about and what it meant to me. Make no mistake, I’ve been kinky for almost as long as I’ve been sexual. But I didn’t really understand what it all was or how it worked.

Not all of my kinky experiences happened within a romantic relationship. In fact, many of them were with people who are just friends. Sometimes, play is just that—play. Two people have fun and enjoy something mutual. One thing to remember, here, is that BDSM doesn’t require sex. One of the best scenes I’ve ever had involved me getting my ass paddled (and spanked, among other things) but the guy spanking me never touched me sexually. Another time, I volunteered to let people learn fire play with me and though I was naked, there was nothing sexual about it. Sure, sex can be involved, but it doesn’t have to be.

But sometimes kinky relationships stem from existing romantic relationships. Couples—or more—who discover kink after being together for a long time. It’s often a natural progression to go from vanilla sex to experimenting with other things—tying someone up, blindfolding them, a swat here or there—all of which can lead to even more.

However, it’s not always that clear cut. Sometimes what seems so to be only friendship between two playing starts to feel like something more. BDSM—especially D/s and pain play—involves a lot of trust, on both sides of the relationship. For a submissive to be able to let go and simply experience, they have to be able to trust their Dom. Some level of trust is necessary if they’re going to go into that oft-coveted place: subspace.

It can mean that the lines between simple play between friends and that of a romantic relationship can be blurred. It’s even worse if those boundaries weren’t that clear to begin with. What happens when two best friends who’d been so all their lives start to realize there’s more between them then occasionally fucking or saying, “Yes, Sir?”

Turning explores that. Things have always been relatively simple for Kane. They were rough when he was little, but still fairly simple. He avoided his mom’s boyfriends. He spent his days with his best friend, Ian. As they got older and away from his mother, that didn’t change all that much. Now, he didn’t have to worry about the boyfriends, but he still simply hung out with his best friend and focusing on being a teenager like most others—except for being gay, of course.

But that friendship was always there and Kane never questioned that. Until his life turns upside down and he’s faced with a whole mess of change he never expected. And through it all, the one person he’d come to depend on is still there, still his rock.

They’re not just best friends, though. They’ve been happy to be fuck buddies when neither was dating anyone. And a few years before Kane’s life goes so crazy, they start exploring BDSM.

So when it does get more than a little crazy, those already-fuzzy lines get much blurrier. Kane is asked, on more than one occasion, what Ian is to him and he discovers he’s having a hard time explaining. Everyone seems determined to label Ian as Kane’s boyfriend or partner, but Kane keeps refusing… until he tries to list all the things Ian is… and isn’t quite sure where to stop.

A big portion of what pushes him further is when they start playing more often. Kane needs the grounding the scenes with Ian gives him, with all the changes in his life. And the more they play, the harder it is for him to find those lines once again.

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Have you had relationships where the lines blurred for you? Could you play with a friend? Tell me about these for a chance to win a copy of any of my backlist titles!

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Be sure to follow the tour for more opportunities to win and learn lots more about Kane and Ian! Check it out here!

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About Grace:

Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination.  She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.

A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States.  She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.

As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics.  She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.

Find Grace here:

Website  ◊ FacebookTwitterGoodreads

 

Turning His Life Around

ebook            Paperback

German Interview With H.B. Pattskyn: Paranormal and BDSM Author

May 20, 2015

Ich bedanke mich herzlich bei H.B. Pattskyn, die sich bereit erklärt hat, an diesem Interview teilzunehmen und euch Lesern Frage und Antwort zu stehen. Auch ein großes Dankeschön an euch Leser, denn ohne euch wäre dieses wunderbare Interview nicht zustande gekommen.

 Zuallererst: Verrate etwas über dich, das deine Leser überraschen würde.

Vielen Dank für diese Gelegenheit! Hmmm … eine Sache, die Leute überraschen würde, wenn sie mich irgendwo treffen oder auf einer Convention sehen, wäre, dass ich extrem introvertiert bin. Aber ich bin nicht wirklich schüchtern. Das verwirrt die Leute. Eigentlich „mag“ ich es, mit Leuten zu reden. Aber nach einiger Zeit kann es ziemlich erschöpfend sein, auch wenn ich mit meinen Freunden oder meiner Familie zusammen bin. Ich muss dann irgendwann gehen und meine Batterien an einem stillen Ort wieder aufladen.

Was hat dich dazu gebracht, M/M Romanzen zu schreiben? Wie lange schreibst du schon und wie lange hat es gebraucht, bis du von einem Verlag publiziert wurdest?

Ich begann mit dem Schreiben in der zweiten Schulstufe. Wir hatten die Aufgabe, eine Geschichte zu schreiben, und dabei die bereits gelernten Wörter zu verwenden. Es machte so viel Spaß, dass ich weiterschrieb. Ich bin jetzt 46, ihr könnt euch also ausrechnen, wie lange das her ist. *grins

Ich begann Fanfiktions zu schreiben, als Reaktion auf die schreckliche-nein-das-haben-die-nicht-wirklich-getan dritte Staffel von Ron Koslows „Die Schöne und das Biest“ (Eine Menge Fans der Serie schrieben nach der dritten Staffel Fanfiktions). Nach ca. 20 Jahren fing ich mit Torchwood Fanfiktions an, weil ich neugierig war, was wohl zwischen den Episoden passieren könnte – und vor allem, weil ich mehr von Jack und Ianto, ein heißes M/M Pärchen der Serie, sehen wollte. Viele meiner Fans ermutigten mich dazu, Bücher zu schreiben und zu publizieren. Ich versuchte es und erhielt eine Menge Absagen (so läuft das nun mal), was mich dann etwas zögern ließ.

Dann hatte ich die Idee zu einer Story, die einfach nicht mehr verschwand. Als das Buch geschrieben war, musste ich einfach irgendwas damit tun, weshalb ich es bei Dreamspinner Press (mein absoluter Lieblingsverlag) einreichte. Ich erwartete natürlich eine Absage. Ich war gerade dabei, mir Gedanken darüber zu machen, wo ich es als Nächstes einreichen sollte, als ich eine E-Mail mit dem Betreff „Vertrag“ erhielt. Ich denke, ich starrte ca. 10 Minuten auf den Bildschirm, ehe ich die Mail öffnete, und hab mich wohl auch grün und blau gezwickt, weil ich es einfach nicht glauben konnte. *grins*

Ich hoffe, die Frage ist nicht zu privat, wenn ja, musst du natürlich nicht darauf antworten: Wie vereinst du deine Liebe zum Schreiben mit deinem Real Life (Familie, Freunden, dem Partner etc.), ohne dass einer dabei zu kurz kommt?

*kicher* Wenn ich die Lösung gefunden habe, lasse ich es euch wissen! Ständig kommt etwas zu kurz. Glücklicherweise habe ich einen wundervollen und unterstützenden Ehemann und richtig gute Freunde, die verständnisvoll sind, wenn ich sage, dass ich ein Treffen sausen lassen muss, weil die Musen in Höchstform sind. Aber es kann auch das Gegenteil der Fall sein. Letztes Jahr zogen wir in ein neues Haus (ein wunderschönes 100 Jahre altes Haus in Detroit), und deshalb konnte ich nur sehr wenig schreiben. All meine kreative Energie wurde gebraucht, um die alten Böden zu schleifen und neu zu lackieren (manche wurden mit Fliesen und Linoleum bedeckt), und Farbe von den wunderschönen Hartholzleisten abzukratzen.

Schreibst du an mehreren Büchern gleichzeitig oder konzentrierst du dich lieber nur auf eines?

Im Moment schreibe ich an mehreren Büchern gleichzeitig. Ich hoffe, das klappt weiterhin so gut, damit ich zwei Bücher in nächster Zeit beenden und einreichen kann!

Gibt es bestimmte Stärken und Schwächen, die du als Autor besitzt?

Unsicherheit ist meine größte Schwäche. Bei jeder Geschichte komme ich zu einem Punkt, wo ich davon überzeugt bin, dass alles schlecht ist und ich das Handtuch werfen sollte. Gerade dann hilft es, wenn man eine unterstützende Familie und ein helfendes Netzwerk von Schreibkollegen hat.

Eine meiner Stärken ist das Schreiben von Dialogen. Es ist eines der Dinge, wo ich am häufigsten positives Feedback erhalten habe, als ich noch Fanfiktions schrieb, und wo das Schreiben von Fanfiktions auch ziemlich geholfen hat. Ich schrieb über bereits bestehende Charaktere, deshalb war es wichtig, sie nicht zu verändern. Und gerade Dialoge sind ein großer Teil davon, eine Person in einer Geschichte einzigartig zu machen.

Hast du einen bestimmten Schreiballtag und wie lange schreibst du durchschnittlich an einer Geschichte?

Meine Tage sind zur Zeit noch recht unbeständig. Mein Mann und ich teilen uns ein Auto (es ist der einzige Weg, dass es finanziell klappt, dass ich als Vollzeitautorin arbeiten kann), und meine Tochter hat einen Job, bei dem sie um Mitternacht anfängt zu arbeiten. Mein neuer Tag besteht als darin, sie um 23 Uhr zur Arbeit zu bringen, heimzukommen, ins Bett zu gehen, mit meinem Mann um 4 Uhr aufzustehen, ihn zur Arbeit zu fahren, meine Tochter um 7 Uhr abzuholen (versuchen, dazwischen ein wenig zu schreiben), mehr zu schreiben – oder dumme Computerspiele zu spielen, je nachdem wie müde ich bin! Irgendwann versuche ich ein Nickerchen zu machen und / oder ein wenig Hausarbeit oder Gartenarbeit zu erledigen. Dann hole ich meinen Mann um 14 Uhr ab. Zur Zeit bin ich am Morgen am kreativsten, aber ich versuche mich auf meinen neuen Zeitplan einzustellen und bin damit zufrieden, wenn ich mal 1000 Wörter hier und 1000 Wörter da schaffe. Mein Ziel ist es, 3000 Wörter an einem Tag zu schaffen, aber manchmal klappt das eben nicht.

Zwei Tage die Woche arbeite ich ehrenamtlich für die AIDS Partnership Michigan.

Was für eine Szene war die am schwersten zu schreibende?  

Eines meiner derzeitigen Projekte ist die Fortsetzung von „Das graue Halsband“. Es geht aber nicht um Jason und Henry, obwohl sie natürlich vorkommen werden, sondern um Derrik. Der Typ, mit dem er am Ende zusammenkommen wird, lebt am Anfang in einer missbrauchenden, gewalttätigen D/s Beziehung. Es ist ein sehr sensibles und berührendes Thema, und es fällt mir schwer, es zu schreiben, weil ich nicht daran denken möchte, dass D/s Beziehungen etwas anderes als liebevoll und einvernehmlich sein können. Obwohl ich in meiner vorherigen Ehe mit einem Mann verheiratet war, der das Konzept ganz und gar nicht verstanden hatte. Es wurde nie gewalttätig, missbrauchend (ich konnte mich sozusagen von ihm lösen, ehe es zu diesem Punkt kommen konnte) aber das Potenzial war da. Es fällt mir schwer, einen Dom zu schreiben, der so sehr meinem Exmann ähnelt. Es gab nämlich ein paar Situationen, wo er mich wirklich verängstigt hatte.

Du hast zeitgenössische und eine paranormale Geschichte geschrieben. Welchen Stil bevorzugst du und warum?

Ich denke, paranormale Geschichten, weil sie dir viel Spielraum und Freiheiten lassen, um kreativ zu sein und Spaß zu haben – aber in letzter Zeit waren meine Ideen eher den zeitgenössischen Geschichten zugehörig, deshalb schreibe ich mehr Bücher in diesem Genre. Genauer gesagt, ich schreibe all das, was meine Musen mir diktieren. *grins*

Gehörst du auch zu den Autoren, die von der Muse ständig Arschtritte bekommen, vor allem, wenn sie etwas will, das dir aktuell so gar nicht in den Zeitplan passt?

Auf jeden Fall!

Hast du schon einmal abfällige / beleidigende Bemerkungen zu deinen Büchern erhalten? Wenn ja, wie hast du darauf reagiert?

Möglicherweise war die abfälligste Bemerkung, der Satz: „Oh, du schreibst homoerotische Romanzen? Wo veröffentlichst du deine Geschichten online?“ Es war sehr frustrierend, dass er gleich dachte, dass ich mit Geschichten dieses Genres, bei keinem Verlag veröffentlichen kann oder für meine Arbeit bezahlt werde.

Als Antwort auf seine Frage sagte ich lächelnd, dass er meine Bücher ja gerne auf der Seite meines Verlages oder auf Amazon nachschlagen könnte.

Jemand anderes dachte, ich würde selbst veröffentlichen. Ich habe überhaupt nichts dagegen, wenn Autoren ihre Bücher selbst veröffentlichen – mich irritierte nur die Annahme, dass er dachte, dass wohl kein Verlag M/M Romanzen veröffentlichen würde. Ich habe ihn höflich korrigiert, und wieder auf Dreamspinner verwiesen – ebenso wie auf all die anderen tollen M/M Verlage.

Hast du vor, irgendwann die Länder zu besuchen, in deren Sprachen deine Bücher übersetzt wurden?

Ich möchte unbedingt mal nach Deutschland! Und auch einige andere europäische Länder besuchen.

Letzte Woche veröffentliche DSP die deutsche Übersetzung von deinem Buch Das graue Halsband (Bound: Forget Me Knot). Hat dir die Muse eines Tages die Idee (auch das Thema BDSM) zugeflüstert oder inspirierte dich etwas anderes?

*grins* Ich stand beim Tisch eines Händlers bei einer lokalen Science Fiction Convention (nicht die, wo sich Henry und Jason trafen, aber sie war der Convention sehr ähnlich) und gegenüber von mir erblickte ich diesen umwerfenden, jungen (19 oder 20 Jahre alt) Kerl, gekleidet in einem Netzshirt, seine Nippelpiercings waren deutlich zu sehen. Schräg gegenüber war ein Lederwaren Händler (mehr Steampunk als BDSM Zeug, aber es gab auch ein paar Halsbänder und Handschellen). Ich konnte nicht anders, als die beiden in meinen Gedanken zusammenzubringen.

Wird es eine Fortsetzung geben? Oder sind andere Bücher geplant, die das Thema BDSM beinhalten?

Neben Derriks Geschichte (die Fortsetzung von „Das graue Halsband“) arbeite ich an einer weiteren BDSM Geschichte, die Visceral heißt, und die ich sehr liebe. Mittlerweile habe ich ungefähr 70 000 Wörter geschrieben, also wird sie bald fertig sein.

Kannst du ein bisschen über dein Buch Hanging by the Moment erzählen? War der Plot geplant oder entwickelte es sich während des Schreibens?

Ich hatte nicht geplant, ein Buch über HIV zu schreiben, als ich mit der Geschichte von Daniel und Pasha begann. Ich hatte gerade erst „Das graue Halsband“ beendet, und wollte daher etwas leichtes und schmerzloses schreiben. Aber leicht und schmerzlos ist in meinem Wortschatz wohl nicht vorhanden. Ich hatte ungefähr 10 000 Wörter geschrieben und wollte mich gerade etwas hinlegen, um eine Pause zu machen, als mich Daniel darüber informierte (und zwar in der Art und Weise wie Charaktere manchmal die Autoren vor vollendete Tatsachen stellen), dass er HIV-positiv sei.

Nein.

Niemals. Das war nicht das Buch, das ich schreiben wollte.

Aber es war das Buch, das geschrieben werden musste.

Wegen der Recherche zu dem Thema endete ich als ehrenamtliche Mitarbeiterin bei der AIDS Partnership Michigan. Es bricht mir mein Herz, dass noch immer so viele falsche Informationen im Internet über HIV und AIDS zu finden sind. Es ist kein Todesurteil. Es ist keine Krankheit, die jemand haben möchte, aber man kann sich damit arrangieren und leben.

Ich weiß, eine Menge Leser mieden „Hanging by the Moment“, wegen dieses Themas, aber es ist keine depressive, traurige Geschichte. Es ist eine Geschichte über einen Mann, der sich in einen anderen Mann verliebt, der HIV-positiv ist.

Zu guter Letzt. Woran arbeitest du zur Zeit?

Neben Derriks Geschichte und Visceral, arbeite ich an dem Buch A Place to Belong, das mich ziemlich mitgenommen hat. Es ist eine weitere Geschichte mit einem schwierigen Plot, der Selbstverletzung, Straßenprostitution und eine Beziehung mit einem erheblichen Altersunterschied beinhaltet. Es ist einer der Fälle, wo ich, egal was ich schreibe, denke, dass es Mist ist (obwohl mir vier Beta Leser gesagt haben, dass sie es lieben, und das sind Leute, die ich sehr respektiere). Ich denke, wenn ich Visceral beendet habe, werde ich mich wieder auf diese Story stürzen (Ich begann mit Visceral, weil ich eine Pause brauchte – und weil ich an der Reihe war, etwas in einer Kritikergruppe zu schreiben, und ich wollte nichts von A Place to Belong posten, weil die Geschichte gerade bei einem Beta Reader war, und ich zu der Zeit nur deren Meinungen hören wollte).

Interview With H.B. Pattskyn: Paranormal and BDSM Author

May 20, 2015

A big thank you to H.B. Pattskyn, who agreed to do this interview and answer the questions of her readers. I also want to thank you, the readers, who came up with the questions and thus made this interview possible.

First of all, name one thing readers would be surprised to know about you.

Thank you so much for the opportunity!  Hmmm….one thing that surprises most people when they meet me somewhere like a conference or a convention is that I’m an extreme introvert, I just happen to not be a very shy one. That confuses people. I actually *like* talking to people, it’s just that after a while, it can be very draining, even when I’m around friends and family. I need to go and recharge my batteries some place quiet after a long day of interacting with people.

What made you start writing M/M novels? How long have you been writing, and was it a long process to become a published author?

I started writing in the second grade. We had an assignment to write a story using our spelling words and it was so much fun, I started writing more stories. I’m 46 now, so you can do the math on how long ago that was  *grin* !

I started writing fanficiton in response to the horrible-it-didn’t-really-happen third season of Ron Koslow’s Beauty and the Beast. (A lot of fans of the show wrote fanfiction after the third season aired, in the late 1980’s.) Fast forward about twenty years and I found myself writing Torchwood fanfiction, because I wanted to see what happened in between episodes—and mostly because I wanted more Jack and Ianto, a cannon M/M couple. A bunch of my fans encouraged me to write and publish original fiction. I’d tried that previously and collected a stack of rejection letters (that’s just the nature of the business) so I was reluctant.

Then I had an idea for a story that wouldn’t go away. Once the novel was written, I had to do something with it, so I submitted it to Dreamspinner Press (my absolute favorite publisher, from a customer-perspective) , fully expecting to get another rejection letter. I’d even settled on where I was going to submit it next when the inevitable happened. But instead of the anticipated rejection letter, I got an email with  Contract in the subject line. I think I stared at it for ten minutes before opening it and probably pinched my arm black and blue to make sure I wasn’t dreaming *grin* !

I hope this question is not too personal; if yes you of course don’t have to answer it. How do you unite your writing with your private life (family, friends, partner, etc.) without neglecting anyone or anything?

*snicker* When I figure that one out, I’ll let you know!  Invariably, something gets neglected along the way. Fortunately, I have a wonderful and supportive husband and really awesome friends who understand it when I say I have to bail on a social engagement because the Muses are dancing and I’m working hard. Sometimes it works the opposite way, too. Last year, we were very busy moving to a new house (a lovely 100 year old home in Detroit) and as a consequence, I got very  little writing done. All my creative energy went to sanding and refinishing old floors (some of which were covered by layes of tile and linoleum), and scraping peeling paint off of the most beautiful hardwood crown molding.

Do you work at several books at the same time or do you rather focus on one? 

Lately, I’ve been working on multiple books at once.  I’m hoping that works out to see two books finished and submitted very soon!

What would you say are your strengths and weaknesses as an author?

Insecurity is my biggest weakness. There comes a point in every story where I’m convinced it totally sucks and I should just throw in the towel. Those moments are where having a supportive family and network of writer-friends really helps.

I think one of my strongest suits as a writer is writing dialogue. It’s one the things I got the most positive feedback on when I was writing fanfiction, and one of the places where fanfiction really helped. I was writing pre-made characters, so keeping them in character was really super important. It became engrained me that dialogue is a huge part of what makes a person seem unique on the page.

Do you have a writing routine and how long does it take you on average to write a story?

My days are in flux right now; my husband and I share a car (pretty much the only way we can make it work financially for me to be a fulltime writer), and my daughter just got a job working midnights. So my new day is to take her to work at 11pm, come home, go to bed, get up with my husband at 4am, drive him to work, pick my daughter up at 7am (trying to get some writing done in between), do some more writing—or play stupid computer games, depending on how tired I am! Somewhere in there I catch a nap and/or attempt to do some housework or work in the garden. Then I pick my husband up at 2. My best creative times are in the morning, but I’m adapting to the new schedule and trying to be content to get in a thousand words here and a thousand words there. My goal is 3000 words a day, but sometimes that just doesn’t happen.

Two days a week, I volunteer for AIDS Partnership Michigan.

What is the hardest scene you ever had to write?

One of my current projects is the followup to Bound:Forget Me Knot.  It’s not a sequel, although Jason and Henry will be in it—but really the new book is Derrik’s story. The guy he ends up with starts out the story in an abusive D/s relationship. It’s a really touchy subject all the way around and hard to write because I don’t want to think of D/s as being anything but loving and consensual, even though my previous marriage was to a man who totally didn’t get the concept of that at all. It never got abusive (I got out before it could go there) but the potential existed. It’s hard for me to write a Dom who is so much like my ex; there were a few times he really scared me.

You’ve written contemporaries and you’ve written a paranormal novel. Which do you prefer and why?

I think paranormal, because paranormal gives a lot of leeway and freedom to really explore and be creative and have fun—but lately my ideas have mostly been contemporary, so that’s what I’m writing more of. Pretty much I write whatever the Muses dictate  *smile*

Are you one of the authors that get kicked by their muse all of the time, especially when she wants something that doesn’t really fit into your writing timetable in that situation?

Completely!

Have you ever got insulted because of your books? Or have your books ever got insulted? If yes, how did you react to it?

Probably the most insulting thing anyone has ever said was along the lines, „Oh, you write gay male romance? Where do you post your stories online?“  It was really frustrating that he thought that because of what I write, I couldn’t possibly have a publisher or get paid for my work.

In response to that question, I smiled and said that if he wanted to look me up, he could try my publisher’s website or track me down on Amazon.

I had someone else who assumed I was self published. I have nothing against self publishing—it was just the assumption that irritated me, like somehow no one publishes M/M romance. I politely corrected the misconception and once again suggested the other person check out Dreampsinner—and all of the other wonderful M/M publishers out there.

Do you want to travel to the countries where the languages your books were translated into are spoken?

 I would love to come to Germany some day! And most of Europe, for that matter.

Last week DSP published the German translation of Bound: Forget Me Knot. It’s the first book of you which was translated into another language. What inspired you to write this novel?

*grin*  I was sitting at a dealer’s table at a local science fiction convention (not the one where Jason and Henry meet, but they’re fairly similar) and across the room, I spoted this adorable little (19 or 20 years old) guy in a fishnet shirt, his nipple rings clearly visible. Just kitty corner to my table was a leather dealer (more Steampunk stuff than BDSM gear, but there were a few collars and cuffs discretely on display as well.) I couldn’t help putting those two things together.

Are you planning to write a sequel or more books dealing with BDSM?

In addition to Derrik’s story (the follow up for Bound), I’m hard at work on a BDSM story called Visceral that I’m really in love with. It’s at about the 70,000 word mark, so it’s almost done.

Can you tell us a little about Hanging by the Moment? Did you plan the plot before you start writing or did you let things just develop themselves?

I so did not set out to write a book about HIV when I stared Daniel and Pasha’s story! I’d just finished Bound and I wanted to write something light and easy. Light and easy is apparently not in my vocabulary. I was about 10,000 words in and laying down to take a little break when Daniel informes me (in that way that characters sometimes inform authors of things the poor author had no prior knowledge of) that he’s HIV positive.

No.

No way. That was not the book I wanted to write.

But it was the book that needed to be written.

Because of the research I did, I ended up as a volunteer at AIDS Partnership Michigan—it completely breaks my heart that there is still so much misinformation circulating around the Internet about HIV and AIDS. It’s not a death sentence. It’s not a disease anyone wants, but it can be managed and lived with.

I know a lot of people have steered clear of Hanging by the Moment because of the subject matter, but it’s not a depressing story. It’s a story about a guy who falls in love with a guy who happens to be living with HIV.

Last but not least: What are you currently working?

In addition to Derrik’s story and Visceral, I’m working on book called A Place to Belong that’s been causing me great consternation for the better part of a year. It’s another story with a difficult plot line that involves self-injury, street level sex work, and a relationship with a significant age gap.  It’s been one of those cases where no matter what I write, I think it sucks (even though I’ve had no less than 4 beta readers tell me they love and they’re all people I respect tremendously!)  I think once I finish Visceral, I’ll get back to it (I started Visceral because I needed a break—and because it was my turn to submit something to my critique group and I didn’t want to submit any of A Place to Belong; it was in the hands of a beta reader and his were the only other opinions I wanted on it.)

Wrapped Up in Chains Release Party – Excerpt and giveaway.

March 14, 2014

I’d like to thank you all for coming by and hanging out with me today. I’ve loved sharing with you and hope you’ll enjoy the story. Andrea M you’re the winner of the free copy and I will will have the lovely people at Dreamspinner add it to your bookshelf by tomorrow.

And here’s the excerpt that will hopefully whet your appetite:

DEVON WALKED into Mystique looking every inch the Master of the world. The truth wasn’t too far off. Inside his club there were many who called themselves Master, but here in this place, they all answered to him.

Tonight he wore black jeans and a dark red silk shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. His black jacket and boots completed the look. Devon didn’t favor the leather and chains look so many in his community seemed to be stuck on unless he was in a scene.

He radiated power as he walked down the hall and into the main room of the club. He was used to most eyes turning his way as he entered the room. The fact that they didn’t tonight was Devon’s first indication that something was wrong. When he looked to see what had captured people’s attention, his green eyes flashed with anger.

There was a crowd of people gathered around the raised stage in the middle of the club, watching one of the young men who worked there as a Dom beat a young man who was tied to the St. Andrew’s cross that sat on the platform.

Most of the people watching looked horrified but made no move to stop the torture.

The unfortunate sub had been beaten so badly that his back was bleeding in half a dozen places, and it was obvious this was some kind of punishment instead of a scene. He was limp in his bindings, and the pain in his shoulders must have been excruciating as the muscles were stretched to the limit when his legs failed to support him.

Devon spotted his manager standing uncertainly to the side. This was the man who should have been putting a stop to the chaos in front of him, but Devon could see that he was intimidated and trying to decide whether or not to stop it. He took the choice out of the manager’s hands.

Striding quickly to the stage, he caught the eye of the DJ as he went, and the music died. All eyes were finally on Devon as he shouted.

“Stop!”

The Dom had just pulled his arm back to administer another blow and was startled when Devon yanked the flogger out of his hand.

The man spun to confront whoever had dared to interfere and visibly paled when he saw it was his boss. Devon smiled coldly at the man.

“Matt, I’d like you to explain to me what this poor sub has done to merit being beaten half to death.” He moved around so he could see the bleeding man’s face. Devon’s fury grew. The man wasn’t much more than a boy.

“He struck a Dom, sir.” Matt’s voice shook.

Devon gently pushed the hair back off the young man’s face and was gratified when he opened his eyes. However, the pure terror in the hazel depths made Devon even more furious. He ran his fingers through the man’s hair, trying to calm him down a little.

“Why? He obviously didn’t hit him for no reason.”

Matt just shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t see what happened. One minute the Dom was talking to him, the next he was flat on the floor with a broken nose. Don’t worry, sir, Jason took him to the hospital.” He made it sound like Devon should be proud of him for taking care of the Dom.

“And you didn’t ask why the kid hit him? Did it occur to you that he might have had a reason?”

Matt scowled. “Subs don’t hit Doms, sir. It’s the rule.”

Devon pulled himself to his full height. “In case you’ve forgotten, Matt, I make the fucking rules here! And rule number one is consent from all parties for everything! Are you telling me this man consented to this?”

Matt flinched even though Devon hadn’t raised his voice. When Devon lifted the flogger to look at it, his anger almost overwhelmed him.

The whip was actually a cat-o’-nine-tails that was about two-and-a-half-feet long. It was one of the nastier versions Devon had seen, with knots tied at intervals along the tails and the ends cut at an angle, all designed to cause the maximum amount of pain and damage.

“You used this weapon of torture on someone in my club? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Devon’s voice was starting to get louder, and as it did he could feel the sub shake harder. He knew he had to calm down and get the injured man taken care of.

Taking a deep breath, he threw the flogger across the stage to land at the feet of his manager. “You are not a Dom. You’re just a fucking bully. Now get the hell out of my club. You’re done here.”

Matt opened his mouth to speak but stopped when two of the bouncers who had been with the club since it began stepped forward at a gesture from Devon. With a giant man on either side of him, Matt had no option but to move in the direction they wanted him to go. He went quietly.

Devon turned back to the sub. He’d started moaning in pain, although Devon could see that the man was trying hard to be quiet.

“If the rest of you wouldn’t mind, could you please step back and give us some room to work?” He looked over his shoulder and saw Andy and Joe walking toward the stage. They must have just arrived or this wouldn’t have been happening.

“Could you two give me a hand here?”

“What in the hell’s going on, Dev?” Andy’s eyes widened when he saw the sub’s back. “Who did that? I’ll fucking kill ’em!”

“Someone who is no longer employed here. We’ll talk about it later.” Dev leaned in to talk quietly in the sub’s ear.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He couldn’t resist tucking a lock of hair behind the other man’s ear. His face was so innocent he couldn’t imagine him lashing out at anyone in anger.

“Chase, Sir.” His voice was wrecked, hoarse and raw from screaming.

“Chase, we’re going to get you down from here and figure out what’s going on, okay?”

Chase nodded. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

Devon rubbed the back of his knuckles gently over Chase’s cheek. “Shhh, just be quiet for now, sweetheart. We’re gonna take care of you.”

Looking back at Andy, he motioned for him to start untying Chase while Joe ran off to grab the gurney they kept to help move patrons who were sometimes overwhelmed in intense scenes.

Devon stood beside Chase, moving in front of him and holding his weight when Andy finally got both the limbs on one side untied.

Chase was trying hard to hold himself up, but Devon knew he was seconds away from collapsing. “It’s okay, Chase. You can lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

Chase put his forehead on Devon’s shoulder, both arms hanging down by his sides, apparently too weak and in too much pain to grab on to anything.

“Who’s your Master, Chase?”

Chase trembled at the question, and for a moment, Devon didn’t think he was going to answer.

“James, Sir, James Kingston.”

Devon sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”

Joe came with the gurney then, and they managed to manhandle Chase onto it, laying him carefully on his front. Once he was settled, Devon looked at the crowd.

“Did any of you see what happened?” He needed to get to the bottom of this. If Chase was seriously hurt, this little shit show could cause him real problems.

Everyone shook their heads, but Devon knew some were lying. He watched as a pretty little dark-haired sub he recognized leaned in to whisper in her Dom’s ear. Her Dom looked at her in surprise before nodding at her.

She walked up and stood in front of the stage, head bowed and hands clasped in front of her until he spoke.

“Yes, Katie?”

“Pardon me, Sir, but I saw Chase’s Dom walk him in and sit him at the bar. He whispered in his ear and then walked to the booth in the corner, leaving Chase alone.” The poor girl was shaking, but she bravely kept talking.

“The Dom and his friends watched as people came up to Chase and talked to him. Chase always said no to offers of company, and they walked away. But then one of the men from his Dom’s table came up and wouldn’t leave him alone. I don’t think Chase knew the man was with his Master, Sir. He couldn’t see the booth from the bar.

Devon was pretty sure he knew what had happened next, but he nodded for her to continue. She was nervous, and he was happy when her Dom came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, offering her comfort.

“The man pulled Chase off his stool and tried to push him to his knees, and that’s when Chase hit him.” She looked up at Devon, begging him to understand. “Sir, I don’t think Chase meant to hit him, he just… panicked. He’s shy, and his Master doesn’t take him out much. Please don’t be too angry at Chase, Master Devon.”

Devon walked to the front of the stage and crouched down to smile at her. “I’m not mad at Chase, Katie. He’s not the one in the wrong here. Thank you for telling me. Do you know where his Dom went?”

She shook her head. “No, Sir. When everyone started freaking out, he just left as fast as he could, leaving Chase behind.” The look on her face told Devon exactly what she thought of the cowardly asshole who’d abandoned his sub.

Devon leaned in and kissed her on the forehead and nodded gratefully at her Dom. They were a couple who came in often, and Devon knew they were a devoted pair.

“Don’t worry, Katie, we’re going to take care of Chase, I promise.”

She smiled at him, tears causing her eyes to shine a little brighter. She turned in her Dom’s arms, and he held her and soothed her as they walked away.

Devon looked over to where Andy and Joe were trying to tend to Chase’s injuries. He stood and walked off the stage to join them.

“Does he need to go to the hospital?”

Andy shrugged. “I don’t know. He won’t let us get close enough to look and keeps insisting he isn’t going to see any doctors.” Dev could see the frustration on his friend’s face.

Dev crouched down so he could look Chase in the eyes and started stroking Chase’s dark, sweaty hair. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on?”

“Master said no one touches what’s his and no doctors. They ask too many questions.”

Devon continued petting him, running his fingers down the back of Chase’s neck to try and ease the tension there. “I’m touching you.”

“You’re the Master here. This is your place. It makes it okay, I think.” His voice was so quiet it was hard to hear, and Dev could tell he was struggling to make sense of things.

Dev smiled encouragingly at him. He knew he had to help Chase feel comfortable so that he’d let them help him. “Let’s get you to my office and get you checked over. If I decide you need to go to the hospital, you’re going, no arguments, all right?”

Chase nodded, and Devon stood up. He could see the other man making an aborted move toward Devon’s hand, and his heart twisted in sympathy. Chase was terrified and had apparently attached himself to Devon without his Dom to turn to. He laid his hand over Chase’s, smiling when the injured man turned his hand palm up and curled his fingers around Dev’s almost painfully.

Devon looked toward the crowd. “Please feel free to continue to enjoy yourselves, but keep this in mind. I won’t tolerate this kind of brutality in my place. Remember, these amazing people put themselves in your care, and it’s your duty as their Doms to make sure they’re safe while they’re with you. Don’t abuse the gift they’ve given you if you want to keep it.”

The last was said as a warning, and the Doms in the room knew James Kingston was going to be sorry for ever trying this kind of brutal game in Devon’s world.

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Wrapped Up in Chains – The BDSM part

March 14, 2014

The setting for this book is kind of unique I think. The background is a BDSM club and main characters who live the BDSM lifestyle, but the story isn’t too hardcore about it because one of the characters isn’t ready for it until the very end of the book. Chase is a man who was basically taken as a boy and abused for a very long time before being rescued and he needed most of the book to heal enough to make his own choices about what he wanted without being influenced by outside opinions.

On top of that, Devon, the Dom in this story, he had to have time to come to the realization that Chase was capable of deciding for himself that he really did want what he was asking for.

And of course, there was the bad guy they both had to deal with who was pretty much everything that the BDSM community isn’t!

And speaking of that…….

I researched as much as I could through books and the internet but what I know about BDSM and the people who live it is very little and certainly not enough to even pretend to be any kind of an expert. I’m smart enough to know that with some things, there is only so much you can learn from books and that some things need to be experienced to truly be understood.

But what I do know is that this is something amazing and wonderful for the people who are immersed into the community and it was something I wanted to learn about and understand better. As I said in the acknowledgments, I have absolutely the utmost respect and admiration for everyone who lives this lifestyle and hope they will take this story as it was intended, as a work of fiction written by someone who was curious and motivated to investigate but has very little knowledge, lol.

I can totally understand the appeal of both sides of the sub/Dom equation. Giving yourself over to someone else’s care, being their sub and letting them make all the decisions? That would be very freeing. The only things you would think about or be required to do would be what your Dom asked of you and their approval or disapproval would be the only thing that mattered.

And of course, being the one in charge has it’s benefits as well. It’s a big responsibility being a Dom. You have someone in your care who is totally dependent on you for whatever length of time you agree on but you also know that in that time, you are their whole world. It’s heady stuff.

Safe – sane –  and consensual were words I found a lot in my research. Everyone involved had to be aware of what was going on and agree to it. For some there are contracts that are written up in advance and safeguards for everyone involved.

I think what anyone who’s interested should do is research like I did. Read a lot, and if you can, talk to someone who’s involved in the community. There’s more than one opinion out there so make sure you get a bunch and keeping an open mind is the most important part. What appeals to others might not appeal to you and that’s okay. While I find a lot of aspects of BDSM fascinating, I’m not big on humiliation, probably because I only associate it with something really bad happening to me that I don’t want, but there are a lot of people for whom that is an essential part of their experience. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. I found most of the people I talked to were more than willing to help me and were in fact eager to clear up misconceptions about their community.

So, in the end, what I do know would fill a thimble and what I don’t know would fill an ocean and I hope that if you are a part of the BDSM community that you can forgive me for any mistakes I’ve made while enjoying the story I’ve crafted.

You can get Wrapped Up in Chains here as an ebook and here as a paperback, the first 20 copies of which are autographed by me!!

Wrapped Up in Chains Release Party – the cover edition

March 14, 2014

WrappedUpInChainsFS

This is the cover that Paul Richmond and the fabulous art department at Dreamspinner came up with for Wrapped Up in Chains. It’s kind of funny because most people reading the blurb after seeing the cover will probably assume that the man on the cover is supposed to represent Chase, the sub in the story. In reality though, it’s really more representative of Devon, the Dom.

While Chase might have literally been kept in chains by his abuser, Devon is trapped in a different way. He loves the lifestyle he’s chosen to live but without someone to share it with, he’s lonely and feeling constrained. When he finally finds Chase and makes a real connection with him, the rules he’s chosen to live by make it hard for him to take what he wants and needs from the sub who’s so desperate to give it to him.

I think so many of us are like that. We get trapped by our way of thinking and even when the opportunity for change presents itself to us we find it hard to accept because we’re afraid. I think we all make our own chains and its up to us to find our way out of them.

When I saw this cover the first time, I knew it was the one I wanted. It jumped out at me and seemed to really embody what I saw in Chase and Devon. Of course, I still had to ask all my friends their opinion because I’m really terrible at making a decision of any kind without some kind of input and as my friends were the ones who helped me through writing it, it seemed only fair they help chose the cover!

You can get this at Dreamspinner here and in paperback here. And remember, only the first 20 copies of the paperback are autographed by yours truly. Btw, signing my first autographs was mind blowing!!!

Wrapped Up in Chains Release Party!

March 14, 2014

Hi! I’m Cindy Sutherland and I’m here with you today celebrating the release of my latest book and first full length novel, Wrapped Up in Chains. I’m so glad to be here, and I’m really excited because I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m going to be hanging out throughout the day, chatting and answering any questions you might have. I’m actually have the day off because the flu has been running rampant through my house and it’s finally my turn. At least it waited until everyone else was over it!

I’m going to be giving away a copy of the ebook version of the novel and you can win by commenting below and answering this question:

Would you rather spend an hour as a sub or as a Dom…no judgements, just for fun! I’ll tell you my answer at the end of the day.

I’m going to start by sharing the blurb with you.

Devon West is a professional Dom who runs his own club, doesn’t believe in romance, and had never been in a long-term relationship. All this changes when he rescues Chase Mackenzie.

Chase is a runaway who has been kept as a slave since he was sixteen. Now twenty-three, he’s still innocent and sweet despite being severely abused and left behind by his Dom.

When Devon finds out that the man who held Chase hostage is the same man who hurt him terribly when he started learning about the sub/Dom lifestyle, he knows he has to keep Chase safe.

Spoiled rich boy and sociopath James Kingston is obsessed with Devon. He’s convinced Devon would be his perfect sub and Devon only thinks he’s a Dom because he needs proper discipline. Losing Chase to Devon is like rubbing salt in the wound, and he’s determined to get them both under thumb. This time, Chase may need to rescue Devon.

You can get Wrapped Up in Chains here. It’s also available here in paperback and the first twenty copies of that are autographed by me!

I look forward to spending the day with you all and lets have a little fun! I’d love to answer any questions you might have.