First why don't you tell us a little about yourself?
I cut my teeth on sports-themed romantic comedies and historical romances before finding my true calling in the wilderness areas I have visited but call “home” in that place that counts the most: the heart.
I've lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science.
When I'm tending my garden or the horses, the cats, or three pervert parakeets, I am day dreaming and listening to the voices in my head.
My newest upcoming release is Flankman (A Crow Creek Novel), the fifth book in the Crow Creek series. It is contemporary western erotic M/M romance. The series features recurring characters, as well a new cowboys who will charm your spurs off with their passion and their stories.
What can we expect from your stories, action, drama, romance, sex, blood and guts?
My men (and yes, that does have a cheeky sound) like mixing it up. They ride broncs, they hunt, they get into fights and sometimes those fights involve more than harsh language. It's romance with high action and a healthy dose of suspense and thriller.
And yes, there are scenes of affection. I recommend making sure the refrigerator is well-stocked with ice cubes, because I've been told those scenes are hot enough to melt linoleum.
Do you have a favorite character in your stories? Who? And Why?
In the Crow Creek series, that would be Ash MacBryde of the tall, dark and devastatingly handsome, quiet but deadly, ex-Army with PTSD issues cowboy who returns home to save the ranch and a way of life he'd thought he'd lost. Thanks to his matchmaking sister, he and Oakley Richards hook up, but their path is neither easy nor smooth. Ash's ex-Army buddy and former lover shows up in book 2, rekindling feelings Ash had tried to bury, unsuccessfully. Confused, angry, suffering nightmares and flashbacks to a time he'd rather forget, he acts out in ways that nearly break his relationship with Oak. They separate, Ash going to Texas with his former lover, and Oak bolting for home in Vermont to lick his wounds. Book 3 has Ash flying to Vermont, to consult with his sister and to figure out how he can win back Oak's trust and respect. It doesn't go as planned and what he discovers about his lover will change the course of their relationship forever.
Give us an interesting fun fact or a few about your book or series:
Crow Creek Ranch is modelled on a real ranch where I stayed for ten days on a riding vacation into the Absaroka Range, just north of Lander, WY. I have been to each location in the series, recreating, I hope, the wonder and beauty and compelling majesty of the area.
As for the Vermont towns that figure prominently, I was—in my younger days—a competitive trail rider and spent many happy times competing in the mountains and valleys in and around South Woodstock.
Has there been any other authors who have inspired your work or helped you out with your stories?
I have several beta readers whose encouragement and constant support are that proverbial wind beneath my wings: Susan, Sessha, Morgann, Chris and so many others.
Sessha Batto was my inspiration for exploring the male/male dynamic. I had written primarily M/F romantic comedies and some nourish erotica, but decided to dip my toe in a transgressive pond with an all-male cast, and I haven't looked back.
What can readers who enjoy your book do to help make it successful?
I enjoy hearing from readers via email or through Face Book. I love reviews and cherish each one, even those perhaps not as flattering as I might like. What matters is that a reader took the time to invest in my story. My hope is that they come away loving the characters as much as I do.
Do you have any tips for readers or advice for other writers trying to get published?
I have gone both routes: traditional publishing and indie. I prefer indie because, in this new publishing climate, the author is doing the bulk of the work when it comes to marketing and promoting. I would urge new authors to invest in a good editor—that person will become your mentor, your partner and your friend. Also invest in a professional quality book cover. Pay attention to formatting.
Learn to jump small buildings in a single bound…
Develop a tough hide: be the armadillo.
Develop a platform that connects with readers, not other authors.
Write the next book.
And try not to obsess.
Do you have a favorite author? If yes, what draws you to that person’s work?
Like a potato chip, you can't have just one…
JR Ward, hands down, for dark urban fantasy. The Black Dagger Brotherhood is an exceptional storyline, filled with unique and compelling characters, lots of action and suspense, and a fresh new way to look at the Vampire 'Verse.
For a screenwriter that would be Marty Noxon who rips your heart out and hands it to you on a platter, still beating. She penned Buffy, Angel, and other Joss Whedon episodes. She is the platinum standard for character development and gut-wrenching stories.
Susan Mac Nicol is my go-to author for M/M fiction. She writes sympathetic, angst-ridden believable men in situations that will break your heart.
Can you remember one of the first things you wrote? What makes it memorable?
My first, and still my favorite short story is a nourish piece of "pseudo-erotica"—Dance Macabre. Why pseudo? Well, there's basically no sex in it, but it is so highly charged with sensuality you can feel the sexual tension baking your eyeballs. It is gritty, rough and raw, and it took me places I did not know I could access.
Where do you gather most of the inspiration for your work
I read everything I can get my hands on, several books a week, in every genre out there (not so much horror of the slasher type, and I can't read Stephen King because he keeps me awake at night). Story ideas seem to jump out at me at the most unlikely times: a lyric, a phrase, conversations I overhear on the bus, at the mall. I am a people watcher. Every person has a story waiting to be told. I simply gather up all those impressions and put them together.
Do you have any other interesting hobbies, pets or stories you would like to share?
I have horses, competed in dressage and competitive trail. Little Miss Mayhem claims ownership over my heart – she was abandoned on a highway in upstate NY in a storm. A friend's daughter-in-law rescued her but because of allergies couldn't keep her. When I got the call, did I want a shy kitten, well that answer was "of course". She has a fan club on Face Book and if I don't post a photo of her every day, the natives get restless.
Favorite places to travel or visit?
Scotland. I've made the pilgrimage twice, staying with friends I made on Face Book. It is as magical as you've been led to believe, filled with history and a sense of place like nowhere else. The people were invariably kind and welcoming and very, very patient with the ditzy ways of an American lady.
And now, before you go, how about a snippet from your book that is meant to intrigue and tantalize us:( Include links to were we can find your work)
From Flankman (A Crow Creek Novel), coming soon to Kindle, ARe/OmniLit, Smashwords
There were just two things Tristan Wells cared about, though if he gave it some thought he'd come around to realizing he had more scope to him than what some might see as just a dumb cracker, shit-for-brains cowboy.
Scope was a word his Mom liked to use. As a grade school teacher, she was big on language—using it right and proper, describing shit like she was penning a novel in the air, all flourishes and curlicues. With his sisters, it had stuck, that language thing. A bit like that fancy wallpaper ladies favored, the kind that made a room heavy, weighty. Important without the doing that proved worth.
Not that he was casting aspersions with his sisters, not at all. But when he'd made his decision, dropping out after his sophomore year at Texas A&M, to make rodeo his full time pursuit, he'd also left behind the veneer of well-spoken drummed into him by his vigilant mother and sisters.
Ducking his head, he grinned. He was due for a visit home soon, before the season really geared up. That meant washing his mouth out with soap and water, maybe donning a mental suit-of-armor. Though, the last coupla years, he'd needed that less and less. Thanks to the man ambling toward him.
The man who taught him it was okay to be himself, the man who believed in him. Without reservations.
Daniel Blake carried his cares, his beliefs, his dedication on shoulders so broad it near took Tristan's breath away. Everyone shouldered a load, everyone. But Danny made it look easy. Easy enough that if you had a problem, a question, a concern … Danny was the man you took it to. Because he never judged. He listened, gave it consideration and asked the question back at you in a way that made it new and different and shed light in dark places.
The light he shed with Tristan was showing him how love felt, beyond the physical, beyond the crushing and the one-nighters and the scratching itches for a quick thrill. His was slow burn, as constant as the air he sucked in his lungs. A cowboy who knew no other way than doing it right.
Danny Blake was a man who had pride without being prideful. His Ma might call it humble, but it seemed a step more than that. His Danny had some sharp edges, like a side of prickly cactus when it came to things that mattered.
From where he stood, those spines were evident already. He'd hinted at needing to talk. Tristan had a guess what that was about. Mostly about him, Tristan Wells, taking the next step, coughing up the entrance fees for the bigger venues, positioning himself in the points race for an end game he wasn't sure mattered so much anymore.
Oddly enough, the problem came down to those two things he cared about. One was Danny, and that went without saying. He no longer spent nights staring at the ceiling, wondering if he was making a mistake, jigging sideways like a skittish colt every time Danny said or did something. Putting words in the man's mouth, in his own. Fucking up time and again and never once … no, not once had he driven Danny away.
The man was a rock. His rock.
And that was the problem, the other thing he cared about. And it wasn't so easy to put into words. He tended to see today clear as a bell, but next week, next month … that lay off in the distance, like a horizon with a blue haze of humidity distorting the big picture, blurring out the details. Beyond that, if you were talking years, he was lost.
Danny was different, he conjured the future … a future—theirs—in a way that didn't seem possible. The man saw them together, for real. A couple. Living in the open, sharing their lives day-to-day. Not hiding from view, from the fans, from their friends, their competitors.
Being aware of the consequences from an early age, he'd taken his sexual explorations far from home, safeguarding his secret, making sure he didn't shit where he ate, to use a crude expression. But it fit unfortunately. Danny had done the same. It sucked, but it was what it was, at least in their world.
But Danny wasn't the kind of man to let things lie. He'd worked out a rough roadmap of how to get from point A to point B. So far, what he lacked were specifics. Tristan had a feeling those details were about to be laid out, sooner rather than later.
Thank you for visiting here with us. We wish you much success.
Thank you for visiting here with us. We wish you much success.