Two hearts on fire… sometimes it’s romance, sometimes it’s a conflagration…
FIRESTORM for Kindle at: http://www.amazon.com/Firestorm-SoulShares-Rory-Ni-Coileain-ebook/dp/B011AKJNAG/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
Two hearts on fire… sometimes it’s romance, sometimes it’s a conflagration…
FIRESTORM for Kindle at: http://www.amazon.com/Firestorm-SoulShares-Rory-Ni-Coileain-ebook/dp/B011AKJNAG/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
Ask my teenager, and I’m sure he’ll be glad to tell you all about how his Mom larned her readin’ and writin’ and cipherin’ by scratching on the face of a shovel with charcoal. But even the oldest of dogs have been known to learn new tricks, and I’m going to spend this weekend meditating on the mysteries of the QR Code.
I’m listing all the buy links for the SoulShares below, and I’ll be updating (and filling in the blanks) as I get links. If any of the links don’t work for you, let me know in the comments below and I’ll do what I can to fix them. (Which will probably involve telling my son that Mom’s out of charcoal again…)
SOULSHARES BUY LINKS
Hard as Stone (Tiernan Guaire and Kevin Almstead)
Gale Force (Conall Dary and Josh LaFontaine)
Amazon (Kindle) — http://www.amazon.com/Gale-Force-Book-Two-SoulShares-ebook/dp/B00ZG85LVY/ref=la_B009M8XQP2_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1434072678&sr=1-5&refinements=p_82%3AB009M8XQP2%2Cp_n_feature_browse-bin%3A618073011
Deep Plunge (Lochlann Doran and Garrett Templar)
All Romance eBooks — https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-deepplungebook3ofthesoulsharesseries-1840037-340.html
Barnes & Noble (Nook) — http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/deep-plunge-book-3-of-the-soulshares-series-rory-ni-coileain/1122189321?ean=2940151138369
Firestorm (Rian Sheridan and Cuinn an Dearmad)
Blowing Smoke (Lasair Faol and Bryce Newhouse)
And, just for good measure –
“Ilya and the Wolf” (Dreamspinner Press, short story, Russian shapeshifters) – Amazon (Kindle) – http://www.amazon.com/Ilya-Wolf-Rory-Ni-Coileain-ebook/dp/B00QEUP9XS/ref=la_B009M8XQP2_1_7_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1436845609&sr=1-7
Heart of the Oak (Ellora’s Cave, novella, Gille Dubh) – Amazon (Kindle) – http://www.amazon.com/Heart-Oak-Boys-Will-Book-ebook/dp/B00FBF4XIY/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1436845523&sr=8-1-fkmr0&keywords=Tempted+from+the+Oak+Rory+Ni+Coileain
Tempted from the Oak (Ellora’s Cave, novella, Gille Dubh) – Amazon (Kindle) — http://www.amazon.com/Tempted-Oak-Rory-Ni-Coileain-ebook/dp/B00J8N6SY2/ref=la_B009M8XQP2_1_8_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1436845564&sr=1-8
This Sunday, June 28, is something of a harmonic convergence here in the land of the Fae and the home of the hawt….
It’s Pride. THE day. Stonewall – June 28, 1969. Which was…
My seventh birthday. Stonewall wasn’t exactly the kind of party my parents would likely have been pointing out to me on the news, but an auspicious coincidence nonetheless. And then…
June 28, 2012 – I received and signed the contract for the first four SoulShares novels. My first books.
And now, this year – wow, what a party!
I haven’t been able to party quite as hard this year as I have in years past, mostly because I’m in the middle of a re-launch of those original four SoulShares novels, plus the fifth – and just finished writing the sixth – and am hard at work on an expansion of “Ilya and the Wolf” into a novella, “Wolf, Becoming”. (And in my spare time, I parent, work my day job, eat, sleep, and breathe. Not necessarily in that order.)
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to celebrate! – far from it. Though I’m hoping to be out and about tomorrow, marching in our local Pride parade and attending Pridefest (though if it rains like it’s supposed to, it’s going to be more like Pridepuddle), I want to have a party.
So here’s the deal. I will leave this post open until I get back from CONvergence on July 5th. For every comment to this post (directly on my blog, not on Facebook) I will donate $1 to the Ali Forney Center for homeless LGBT youth in New York City. (Yes, you may comment more than once.) And every comment here, and every Facebook “like” and “share” (made directly on, or from, my profile page or my Author page – I have to be able to find the posting, so if you like and share a copy someone else shared, I love you from the bottom of my heart but I probably won’t be able to find you) will get you one chance to win your choice of the following:
1. Kindle copies of the Riverdale Avenue Books editions of HARD AS STONE, GALE FORCE, DEEP PLUNGE, and FIRESTORM;
2. Autographed paperback copies of the Ravenous Romance editions of HARD AS STONE, GALE FORCE, DEEP PLUNGE, and FIRESTORM (out of print, collector’s editions!); or…
3. A short story, max length 2000 words, featuring two characters of your choice from any of my books, novellas, or short stories. Just for you.
Please leave some way to get in touch with you in your comment — and
Happy Prideanniverthday, everyone!
Tired of falling in love with a series and then discovering you have to wait a year for the next book? No worries, the SoulShares have your back!
HARD AS STONE (SoulShares #1):
GALE FORCE (SoulShares #2):
And watch for DEEP PLUNGE (SoulShares #3) (releasing June 24), FIRESTORM (SoulShares #4) (releasing July 1), and BLOWING SMOKE (SoulShares #5) (releasing July 15)!
Hard as Stone, Kindle edition: http://www.amazon.com/Hard-As-Stone-Book-Soul…/…/ref=sr_1_3…
Hard as Stone, All Romance e-Books: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hardasstonebookone…
Hard as Stone, Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/hard-as-stone-2
“Ay me! For aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth.”
So Lysander said, in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream…. and so it can occasionally be said of publishing! I fully intended to have a pre-order link for HARD AS STONE available in time for the cover release, but alas, ‘twas not to be. So here’s what I’ll do – I’ll post the link here as soon as it’s available. And if you’d like a reminder, comment below with your e-mail address and I’ll send you the link as soon as it’s up.
Also, as a reward for following Kevin and Tiernan this far, here’s another excerpt from HARD AS STONE – enjoy!
Tiernan leaned against the windowsill, looking out into the early evening pedestrian traffic on Bleecker Street. He hadn’t really been living in Greenwich Village long enough to get particularly nostalgic about it, only a few years, but it had a pleasant aura to it. A good vibe, he supposed some humans might call it. He’d lived in a lot of places, in more than a century and a half on this side of the Pattern, moving around every few years, before the humans around him started noticing that he didn’t age. He’d even lived in D.C. a couple of times, once right after the American Civil War and then again back in the late Forties, for a few years. This place, though, had felt as much like home as anyplace in the human world ever could.
But that was about to change. He shrugged and turned away from the window, his gaze raking the efficiency apartment. The bathroom door stood ajar, revealing the sybaritic tub and shower combination he’d violated pretty much every rule this building had in order to get installed. A shame he couldn’t take that with him. He wasn’t one to accumulate things, but he’d grown very fond of that bad boy. Sixteen settings on the shower head alone… damn.
The coffee maker tugged at what passed for his heartstrings, too, but it at least was a brand name and he could always order another one—should have already, he’d groaned out loud when he’d first discovered that his human drank instant coffee. Caffeine is caffeine, Kevin had said with a shrug, their first morning waking up together.
Instant coffee is sacrilege, had been his snarled reply.
It had been met with laughter. You’ll have to tell me more about that religion.
He’d let that one go, since the Fae had no gods. And even if they did, he doubted any would have followed him through the Pattern. What use a half-souled god? With a congregation of one? So far as he’d ever been able to tell, anyway. Granted, Fae had never exactly lined up in the Realm for the privilege of being torn asunder, but it had happened before. There had been stories. But he had yet to meet another of his kind.
The open mouth of his duffel bag beckoned from the California king-sized bed that took up most of the rest of the little space. Most of his clothes were already packed, and his shitkickers stood next to the bed, waiting for him to step into them. Truthfully, he preferred to be barefoot. He didn’t like to be encumbered, and he didn’t feel the cold. Much.
He had finally felt it, though, in the small hours of this morning, standing on the National Mall with Kevin. At first, the shivers had been the last fading remnants of nightmare, the same one that had made him lash out. But gradually, the cold had seeped into him, spreading from the soles of his feet up through his body, and when his human had drawn him in, he’d only put up token resistance, leaned in and pressed himself close and sighed, splaying his hands out over that broad strong back.
Come stay with me, Kevin had whispered.
He’d started, and drawn back, and seen chagrin in that dark brown gaze. I know it’s sudden, but if what you’ve said is true and we really do share a soul… Kevin’s struggle with that concept had been a mighty one, and still was. Then maybe it’s the right thing to do. And maybe I can help you with the dreams.
Going to let me black the other eye for you? He’d shaken his head, and tried to protest; in the end, though, the lawyer’s persuasive powers—and a hot kiss or three, complete with unfair breathless moans—had carried the argument.
He shook his head, reaching down to pick up the battered leather volume on the small table beside the bed, and the little leather pouch half-full of charcoal sticks. A few leaves had been torn out, and then tucked back in; he ran his fingers idly over the rough edges, then jammed book and bag into the duffel. He stepped into the boots, stomped his feet down into them. Almost done.
A belt hung over one of the bedposts, as if he’d played ring-toss with it; he caught it up, unbuckled it, and slid it through the belt loops of his leathers. The sheath hanging there was empty, but that was easily remedied. His stiletto was stuck in the plaster wall, almost at eye level, over the bed, right where he’d thrown it.
One of the two pages tacked to the wall was his latest attempt to capture in charcoal the intricate knots and loops of the Pattern; no two drawings were ever the same, and none was ever quite right. Even trying to copy his tattoo didn’t help, for some reason. Maybe someday he’d get it right, though, and then maybe it would quit haunting his fucking nightmares.
Then there was the other. He pulled the stiletto free, slipped it into its sheath, and smoothed the gouge it had left in the thick paper with a fingertip. A breathtakingly beautiful fair-haired woman looked back at him, caught by a few strokes of the charcoal, in the act of looking back over her shoulder. Just as she had when she’d Faded from his cell, a century and a half ago.
If he’d ever had the ability to love, it had died in that cell.
He reached for the torn page… stopped. There was nothing more here he needed. He buckled the duffel shut, hoisted the strap over his shoulder, the truesilver links coiled around the strap jingling softly, and Faded. Without looking back.
Welcome to my stop on the Hop Against Homophobia, Bi- and Transphobia!
May 17th is the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia—if you’d like to check out the official link, here ‘tis: http://dayagainsthomophobia.org/
I’m just one of 115 participants in this year’s Hop — you can link back to the others at http://hopagainsthomophobia.blogspot.com/ We hope you’ll take a look around, visit as many blogs on the Hop as you can – it goes on until late on May 24th.
And every stop offers a chance to win a prize! Comment below, with your e-mail address (so I can reach you if you’re my winner), and after the Hop ends on the 24th, I’ll choose one commenter at random to win a Kindle copy of “Ilya and the Wolf,” my 2014 Dreamspinner Advent Calendar story!
And as long as we’re all here….
“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”
I think it’s safe to say that those aren’t words any of us in the LGBTQIA community want to hear. But I’ve been thinking about them for a while, because that’s what I do when I hear a statement that’s obviously wrong, but that doesn’t have an equally short, pithy, effective comeback. Well, maybe not “think about”. I kind of obsess, to be honest. Can’t help it, I’m a lawyer, it’s in my DNA.
And after enough obsessing, I realized that I have a slightly different perspective to bring to the table, one I haven’t heard before. Maybe it’s useful, maybe it isn’t. I’ll let y’all decide what it is for you.
For seventeen years, I was married to an alcoholic. Al-Anon saved my life. Through Al-Anon, I learned that when you love an alcoholic, detachment is a survival skill. Just because you genuinely love the alcoholic person doesn’t mean you approve of or love or support or enable their self-destructive behavior. Their illness.
Now, where have we heard something like that before?
Please understand, I’m not making any kind of comparison between alcoholism and being LGBT. Obviously, being LGBT is not self-destructive, behavior, or an illness. The comparison I’m making is between responses—a comparison between Al-Anon-style detachment and the superficially similar “hate the sin, love the sinner”.
You see, detachment is a genuinely loving response, one that simply recognizes the realities of a relationship with an alcoholic. And I can’t help but wonder if, at least sometimes, “hate the sin, love the sinner” might not also be coming from a loving place. Someone who fears what he or she doesn’t understand, but is trying, however imperfectly, to reach out. A genuine commitment to love a “sinner” despite the perceived “sin” might even be a much more compassionate attitude than that held by the majority of the people who surround such a person.
It’s undeniably true that not everyone who says “hate the sin, love the sinner” is speaking from what they consider a place of love. Far from it. Some of these people are genuinely toxic.
But some people who use those words, who believe them, are really trying to love, the best they know how. I know, because I used to be one of them. At least, I belonged to a religion that taught that (although my particular church was also quick to remind us “judge not, lest ye be judged”). In the end, in my case, love won. But there are more of me out there. I know there are. More who would be our friends, our allies, who would love us if they only knew how. And we need to reach that love.
In my small way, that’s part of what I’m trying to do in my writing. I’m obviously not a gay man, and my m/m romances obviously aren’t an incisively accurate portrayal of the full spectrum of gay life. But they’re a door into a reality that at least some of my readers have never understood, never even tried to understand. I want to make that door as inviting as possible, to persuade readers to step through and discover for themselves that there’s no “sin” on the other side for them to “hate”.
“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear has torment. He that fears is not made perfect in love.” 1 John 4:18.
…that charming month when I’m not entirely sure if I’m coming or going! But here’s a list of the places I’m coming and going over the next month plus a little — fasten your seat belts!
May 15 – I’ll be doing a giveaway at the Triple A – Amazing Author Association 3500 Likes event –https://www.facebook.com/events/701891173254999/
May 17 is the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, and Biphobia, and I’ll be participating in the Hop Against Homophobia, Bi-, and Transphobia from May 17 through May 24. Hop headquarters is at http://hopagainsthomophobia.blogspot.com/ — and there will also be a giveaway here on my blog (and on the other participating blogs, too — pack a lunch, make a day of it!)
May 20 – Cover Reveal for the SoulShares re-releases – all over the Interwebs!
May 27 – June 20
May 27 – HARD AS STONE re-release
June 3 – GALE FORCE re-release
June 10 – DEEP PLUNGE re-release
June 17 – FIRESTORM re-release
June 24 – BLOWING SMOKE – new release!
(somewhere in there is going to be a full-blown blog tour, too, complete with Rafflecopter and all the bells and whistles — watch this space for further details!)
What do you do when a character you had a great deal of fun making thoroughly detestable over the course of three books looks you in the eye and tells you he wants his own book? That’s the predicament I found myself in courtesy of Bryce Newhouse, the Greenwich Village investment banker everyone — and I do mean everyone — loves to hate in GALE FORCE, DEEP PLUNGE, and especially FIRESTORM. Well, I do love a challenge… so here’s a bit of Bryce’s journey.
“What the fuck do you mean, he’s ‘otherwise occupied’?” Unable to glare at the person who was pissing him off, Bryce directed his ire at the air conditioner. Which the fucking landlord wasn’t going to be able to fix until Tuesday at the earliest, and why he’d thought he needed to interrupt Bryce’s Saturday afternoon with that news Bryce had no fucking idea.
A couple of hundred miles away, Josh LaFontaine sighed. “He’s in a meeting, Bryce. This is just another work day for us, you know.”
Remind me again why the hell I called? “I knew that, that’s why I called the studio. And since when do tattoo artists have meetings?”
“I don’t see where that’s any of your business.” Frost rimed on the words.
Neither do I, he nearly blurted. To say he’d been rattled by his close encounter with the heart-stopping Lasair Faol would be the understatement of the decade. Left trembling in a way he’d literally never been before in his life. But that hadn’t been the worst. The worst thing about it was the way it had made him start thinking. About the methodical way he’d spent more or less his whole life shoving everyone who might otherwise have gotten close enough to want to do for him what the blond god in his bedroom wanted to do for him out the nearest windows or under the nearest trains. Figuratively speaking, thank God.
Which contemplation, naturally enough, had turned his thoughts to Terry. Even before whatever had happened this morning, it had been frustrating, being unable to remember why he’d thrown Terry out. Now the inability to remember had graduated to being frustrating as fuck. I seem to have fallen in love with the f-bomb. I suppose it beats hell out of falling in love with anyone else. At least from the perspective of the hypothetical anyone else.
Oh, right, it was his turn to say something. “I wouldn’t have thought Terry needed a social secretary, but as long as you seem to have given yourself the job, would you mind telling me when would be a better time to call?” Acquiring a conscience, if that’s what had happened to him this morning, hadn’t done shit to improve his social skills. No reason it should have, either.
“Why are you bothering?” There was an edge to the tattoo artist’s voice now. “And Terry’s getting on with his life just fine, no thanks to you.”
Jesus. He’d called because… damned if he knew. Had he really thought he could make things right with Terry with a phone call? When he still couldn’t remember how he’d made things wrong in the first place? Not to mention all the bad blood between him and LaFontaine, and him and Dary. Him and pretty much everyone he knew, come to think of it. Not just an asshole, a stupid asshole. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“What the fuck?” A puppy dropped onto the sofa. A puppy that couldn’t possibly have climbed to anywhere he might have fallen from, and had been shut into the bedroom not five minutes before. He could see the bedroom door from where he sat. It was still closed.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I. Uh.” Bryce set the phone on his thigh and switched it to speaker, so he could gather up the bewildered puppy. “My, um, houseguest has a dog. It’s not supposed to be up on the furniture.”
“You have a houseguest?”
“Do you have to sound so fucking surprised?” Bryce cradled the squirming pup awkwardly. “It is my house. If you can have a guest in it, I’m thinking I probably can too.” Shit. He’d had to go and remind himself of Conall Dary. Again. Maybe masochistic tendencies were yet another surprise discovery waiting for him today. It was hard to imagine why else he was rubbing his own nose in that particular piece of his past yet again. I’ve walked this part of memory lane twice already today, can’t I give it a miss now?
No, something else about the memory was nagging him. Something very similar about the two men involved. Something about the eyes. The way they’d seemed to see straight into him. Before he’d been an ass to both of them, anyway. His very special talent.
There was more. When he and Terry had walked in on Dary and LaFontaine, hadn’t there been a length of silver chain on the bedroom floor?
The door to the bedroom opened, banging against the wall, chasing all thoughts of chains from his head. Lasair strode into the living room, his intense turquoise gaze fixed not on Bryce, but on the dog. Which was actually just fine. It meant Bryce didn’t have to be ashamed of staring, at least for a few seconds. He’d been taken by surprise in the bedroom, by those kisses he could still taste. He hadn’t really looked at the heart-stopping blond, his improbable blue eyes and his bite-and-be-bitten lips and his perfectly chiseled body. He’d just fallen against him and let himself be kissed. Touched. Wanted. At least, until he’d come to his senses and gotten the hell out of there. No, he couldn’t even take credit for that much common sense. His escape had all been the landlord’s doing.
However it had happened, it was a good thing. No way could Bryce let himself get involved with a man like Lasair. Even if a miracle had happened, and he now somehow had the capacity not to be a total dickhead, he was still missing something very important. Namely, the ability to be anything else. If he let this go on the way Lasair apparently wanted it to–who the hell am I kidding, I want it too–there was only one way it could end. Very badly. For both of them.
Still, he could look. He could dream. For a second.
The spell shattered as Lasair came toward him with the obvious intention of taking the puppy. Bryce’s arms closed around the dog instinctively. Or it would have been instinctively, if he’d ever had an instinct to protect anything but himself.
“Earth to Newhouse?” The plaintive voice came from the phone still precariously balanced on his thigh. Lasair’s efforts to take the dog away from Bryce ceased. The blond was staring at the phone as if he expected it to leap from Bryce’s thigh and bite him in the face.
This all really, really needed to get weirder. “I’m here.”
“Look, you aren’t planning to come down to D.C. again, are you? That Christmas visit of yours, you made Terry cry, you pissed off Conall, and just a word to the wise, if you ever even try to set foot in Purgatory again, Tiernan’s going to let Lucien use you as a medicine ball.”
There is no way I could ever make up for all the shit I’ve pulled. The sudden bleakness of the thought left Bryce feeling as if all the air had been sucked out of him. It goes all the way back to my childhood and here I sit, piling on more every time I open my mouth. But at least Lasair had finally heard, straight from the horse’s mouth, what a horse’s ass Bryce was. Hopefully that would save him the trouble of proving it to the blond Adonis himself.
“Conall? Tiernan?” Lasair was still staring at the phone like a spooked horse, and he spoke carefully, almost reluctantly. “Are you speaking of Conall Dary and Tiernan Guaire?”
Silence. “Who wants to know?”
Fuck. Lasair hadn’t even heard the Bryce-is-a-dick part. “My houseguest,” Bryce grated. And how the hell did his ‘houseguest’ know both Dary and Guaire?
The blond glanced at Bryce, eyes wide. “I’m… a friend of theirs.” He rested a hand on the puppy’s head. “A friend of a friend, actually. Are they in there with you?–can I speak with them?” The way the blond was nodding toward the phone, it was almost as if he thought LaFontaine was actually inside it.
Bryce shook his head. He’d discarded the raving lunatic explanation for the chained-up man in his basement early on, but maybe it was time to come back to it.
The tattoo artist sounded almost as puzzled as Bryce felt. “They aren’t here, no. I could pass your name along, have them call you back, if you want.”
“No, that’s not necessary. But where are you?”
Considering the context, that has to be one of the strangest questions I’ve ever heard. “He’s not in the phone, Rapunzel.”
“Whatever it is you’re using, Bryce, it’s way too early in the day for it.”
“Fuck you very much, LaFontaine.” Bryce touched off the phone, the urge to slam something down making him nostalgic for something from his grandfather’s house for the first time he could remember. One of those old heavy black phones would have been so much more satisfying to hang up.
http://diversereader.blogspot.com/2015/04/lgbtq-push-back-charity-giveaway.html The LGBTQ Push Back is on! 224 LGBTQ authors, bloggers, and publishers are banding together to offer something special to people who do any little bit they can to give back to charity, raise awareness and push back against hate and bigotry. Instead of spending $5 on a book, over the next two weeks, donate $5 to an LGBTQ charity (there are several excellent ones listed in the DiverseReader blog post, or choose a favorite of your own) and post on DiverseReader when you’ve done it — or, if money’s tight, share an LGBTQ charity’s links on your own social media accounts, help get the word out, and post when you’ve done that — and be entered into a Rafflecopter drawing for a free ebook from one of the participating authors/bloggers/publishers. (Yes, I’m in there, and you can win your choice from my backlist, or if you’re willing to wait until the SoulShares re-release starting the end of May, your choice from that series!) If you’d like to see all the participating authors, here’s a link to the Push Back’s video — enjoy! And let’s show that love and acceptance are a bigger draw than hatred and fear…. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBPMEvAEeD8