Thursday, August 30, 2012

UPDATES: Stuff You Wanna Know: *BONUS* SHERMIN HEIGHTS FINALE PREVIEW: Read My Mind

Heeyyyyy blog stalkers! Bwahaha, no I'm kidding. You're not stalkers, possibly a few, but not all of you. I'm done with this conversation now. Moving on, ya'll are going to kill me when you read this. Most likely you are already sharpening your daggers before I even finish explaining. Here goes:

1. This is only a preview. Meaning, it's coming this fall, but not right now. :) *wipes sweat away* Good, I'm still alive. So far....

2. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! Are you paying attention now? Awesome. My Telija is coming back soon. Hold on to your britches people. Honestly, I had no idea everyone liked it that much. It was something I wanted to try and I didn't get a lot of feedback on it like Dan and Rowe, so I figured not a lot of you were into it. *shrugs* I guess I was wrong there. So Jordy and Ven will be back to throwing wind and water around soon. And yes (for all you crazed Hazia lovers), Hazia will get some booty too. Trust.

3. The Banshee story. This is for a Halloween Contest. Yes, that one. If I don't have to keep it up for a certain reason, then I will send it off to a publisher, because I like it that much. Like for real, send it to a real publisher. Awww mah gahd. Yeah, I know. When I finish it, I'll let you know what I've decided. :)

4. Yes, I will give Yes, Master an ending. That will come after the finale of Dan and Rowe and before the next chapter of Telija. I'm not gonna leave that poor boy unconscious with Olly becoming manager of the city. That would be a horrible ending. I promised you hot dom sex and you will get it. On a stick with some sauce, delicious. Done.

5. In case you didn't get the memo, Knox and Isaac are up next. Oh yes. I don't need to say anything else here to tell you how freckin excited I am about it. Best pair ever! For now...muahahahaha

Okay, that's all the preaching I feel up for tonight. BTW, I left some amazing replies to my RECEIVING READER REVIEWS POST. Night Tempest, out.

XOXO NIGHTTEMPEST

Disclaimer: I do not own the below photos, nor do I claim to own them by sharing them on my blog. All rights are reserved to the models/actors and the photographers who took them. If you find any problem with me posting these on my blog, please contact me by email, and I will remove them immediately. Thanks.

 
Actor Lucas Till as Adam Jackson



I have no name for this model, but if you know it, email me. This is my Perry Olivette.
 
READ MY MIND: PREVIEW!!!!!!
Perry hauled his fist back and struck. Joe Mayfield landed on his ass with a howl, clutching his cheek in pain.

“Don’t nobody talk shit about my boys.” He scuffed his boot in the dirt, gravel and dust flying over the seething man on the ground. Taking it to the grass, Perry grabbed fistfuls of Joe’s shirt. “You gonna go up there and apologize, you over the bridge piece of trash.”

The boys from Leighton County rooted for Joe to get off the ground, their legs silhouetted from the lights of their pick-up. Mason and Sam tried to haul Perry off of Joe, but it was no use. This fight was a long time coming and no one was about to put the fire out of Perry.

“I ain’t gonna apologize to them fags. They prance about kissing each other. They’re asking for it.” Joe spit in Perry’s face and it was on.

“What the fuck you say?” Mason spit to the side. He suddenly lost his niceties. To hell with Joe’s face, he sneered.

One of Joe’s buddies stepped forward. “He said we don’t like you fags running around.”

“That’s what I thought he said.” Mason grinned before rushing the fool to the ground.

Sam rolled his eyes, tossing his favorite University of Kentucky hat to the ground. “Can’t beat em’, might as well join em’.”

He let out a howl into the night, a good old boy victory cheer as the last piece of Leighton trash came for him.

Perry’s eyes stung with the connection of Joe’s ring to his face, a sudden gash to the side of his eye leaking into his sight. Joe Mayfield was the scum of the earth. Tonight he wasn’t about to get away with it. Always calling Noah fag this and fag that, homos don’t have no place here and what not. Not to mention he’d fooled around with Noah back in high school then told everyone Noah done assaulted him. It had taken every iota of willpower he had not to kill the little dick back then. Now, there wasn’t a soul out here that would stop him.

Red and blue lights flashed around them, the whoop of an old squad car, and the slam of a door.. Perry looked up, momentarily distracted, and took a hit to the jaw that knocked him over.

“That is enough!” Sheriff Beauchamp shouted into his old megaphone. “Ya’ll get up off your asses and line up.”

Perry saw stars, rolling over onto his hands and knees. Like the little bitch he was, Joe Mayfield scattered away, joining his banged up boys by the truck.

“Mason Pierson, by the lord almighty boy, your mama is gonna shit bricks for a month when she hears about this.” Beauchamp put the megaphone down as the boys obeyed.

“Ah hell, Sheriff, we was just having a little conversation. Ain’t nothing doing,” Mason argued.

Beauchamp grabbed the radio from his shoulder like a threat. “Now I know you didn’t just back talk me, boy.”

“No sir.” Mason hung his head. This was not good. His old flame, Suzanna, well…her daddy wasn’t one to be messed with.

“And you.” The Sheriff pointed. “You Bob Mayfield’s boy?”

“Uh yes, sir.” Joe nodded, wiping the blood from his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here in Shermin? I know your daddy ain’t fond of the area.” Beauchamp knew the preacher and his family were all about preaching against the gay community. Thou shall not this and that, bunch a hooey to the Sherriff, but he knew these boys were up to no good.

“We were just havin a little fun is all. Just about to leave, you see.”

“Like hell you were. Step away from the truck boys.” He shined a flashlight in their faces. Besides the blood and sweat, he smelled the booze clear across the way.

“You ain’t got no right to go in our truck.” One boy stepped forward.

“Oh really? You got something to hide?” The flashlight pointed right in the boy’s eyes.

“No, you just don’t have the right.”

“Actually I do.” Beauchamp smiled. “You boys been drinking this evening? Cause I’m about to find out. This is your chance to tell me the truth.”

Perry got to his feet, a little unsteady, but he was standing. His brother Sam grabbed onto his arm, pulling him slowly back to where Mason stood with a scowl. “You alright?”

“He really gave it to me with that last hit.” Perry wobbled.

“Whoa, Sherriff? I think Perry might need some medical attention.” Sam tried to help his brother stay standing, but he was going limp.

“Perry? Son, you alright?” Beauchamp flicked the flashlight to Perry. Blood rushed from a gash to the side of his face—a gash that he deduced came from the big old cross ring on Joe Mayfield’s finger. Before he could move, Perry clutched his stomach and hurled into the grass. He was so dizzy. His head felt like it weighed a ton.

The Sheriff grabbed his radio and clicked the button. “Benny, get on up to Ferry Crossing. We got a situation.” He listened to his deputy reply before going over to Perry. “Ya’ll get him up to the house. We’ll send someone on by to have a look at him.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam and Mason chimed.

“Now that ain’t right!” Joe declared. “That fag lover started this shit in the first place.”

Beauchamp smiled at Mason with a tip of his hat. “Go on now.” He turned to Joe and his boys. “Fag lover? Is that right? Let’s just see what we got in your truck there preacher’s boy.”

As Sam stepped on the gas down the road, with his brother and Mason in the bed, Sherriff Beauchamp held up two opened bottles of liquor to the Leighton boys. “Well, look what we got here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam Jackson slammed the door to his Honda and huffed up the steps to the Paola family home or one of their homes actually. Todd’s jeep was in the driveway, but no one else was there. So much for you visiting your parents, Adam fumed. He had heard from a few friends back home about Todd’s activities as of late, had seen a few pictures he’d texted around as well. Sweet little love shack he had here, Adam mused with a roll of his eyes.

He whipped open the screen door and pounded like the beat of drum. “Todd! I know you’re in there, you son of a bitch. Get out here!”

Something broke inside, a glass, a lamp maybe? Footsteps thudded around, hushed voices, a door slammed. The front door swung open and Todd stood there looking fresh of sex, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“What a nice surprise, baby. Sorry, I was just in the shower…” Todd hissed as a slap like thunder whipped across his face. His boyfriend let his hand drop as demon spun nightmares in his baby blue eyes.

“In the shower? My ass! Who the fuck is here?” Adam pushed Todd aside, entering unfamiliar territory—a nice living room, cozy yet expensive with plush carpeting. Squinting his eyes with fury, Adam looked from side to side. A whisper came from the hallway, snapping his head in the direction of the bedroom.

“Now look, baby. It’s not what you think. Just a friend of the family staying the night while he was in town and…”

Adam laughed. “A friend of the family just so happened to come to this rinky dink town and spread his legs for you? Well isn’t that rich?”

“Adam.” Todd tried to block the hallway. He was pushed to the side by his boyfriend, a fury of blonde rushing past him.

Even in the dark of the room he barged into, Adam could clearly see the man struggling to put his pants on. He flicked on the light with a scowl. A middle aged man smiled at him. Not even good looking, Adam growled.

“Uh, hello there. You must be Adam. Todd’s told me a lot of about you.”

Adam’s jaw dropped before he screamed through his teeth. He turned to Todd, mad as hell. “Two years! Two fucking years of my life you wasted. I must be the most na├»ve person in the world to not know you are a two timing scum bag man whore! I couldn’t believe the pictures, the rumors. I had to see for myself and guess what? They were right!” He pushed Todd into the door, going to the front of the house again. “We’re done!”

“Adam! Adam honey, just listen to me. We can work this out.”

“The hell we will! No one makes a fool out me, Todd Paola, and when I get back to Frankfort, everyone is gonna know just how big a whore you are.” Adam slammed the door, leaving Todd staring at it.

Behind the wheel of his car, Adam pulled out of the drive, and gunned it out onto the road. Angry as all get out, he didn’t see the truck barreling towards him, but he had a moment of shock to see the headlights growing bigger.

A loud crash sent Adam spinning off the road. His seatbelt pulled tight to his chest, bruising his ribs and everything they protected. The airbag went off in his face. His head bounced back into seat and everything went fuzzy. He could hear the shouting, saw someone running to him, but his mind went blank and his eyes closed. Pain and sleep consumed him.

“Fuck!” Sam got the truck door open, noting the damage to his truck, and ran to the car. “Oh my God, Mason! Call Pop and Mama. Call someone!”






Wednesday, August 29, 2012

A Must See If You Write: The Many Stages Of Receiving Reader Reviews

*WARNING* Reading this on mobile view will not show the GIFs. Enjoy it at your computer.

LOL. Receiving feedback as a writer:




When you get an email from a reader.





After reading the email, you find out they didn't like your work.





You read the email several times and ponder why they feel this way. What did you do wrong?







Minutes of denial pass before you realize the email still says they didn't like it. The letters refuse to reword themselves.






Your first reaction is to reply, give them a taste of their own medicine. Dear Evil Doer, Just an FYI...








Realizing that is a terrible idea, you instead spend a few minutes talking to the person as if they were there.








Finally, you realize you're being crazy. Normal people don't talk to themselves. Your anger begins to morph. You're not sure what is coming next.





The pity party has arrived. A moment of silence before the inevitable. Somewhere in the background, Against All Odds by Phil Collins is playing.






One tear turns to an ugly cry session. Why don't they love me? I'm sorry I use too many commas and didn't know Fabio wasn't a name used in 18th century Rome. I'm sorry you thought a vampire sleeping with a mermaid was unrealistic yet overrated. How is that even possible! I love mermaids! Everyone loves mermaids!





I thought you loved me. Why does this hurt so much? This Ben and Jerry's is the only thing keeping me alive.





A moment comes when you stop crying. You take a deep breath and then...




The reason you wanted to write in the first place is lost. Your confidence shattered. You should have never stopped waiting tables, the tips didn't come with terrible reviews. For the next ten minutes, you are under the impression you will never write again.






After breaking your favorite Hello Kitty paperweight, the limited edition one with the bejeweled eyes that doubles as a stapler. An eerie calm washes over you--the calm you perfected in high school when you wanted to punch Sally Jones in the face for declaring to the room that your outfit reminded her of a librarian.





Suddenly, the computer chimes. You have a new email.







It could be another attack. You prepare yourself with a few cleansing breaths.





Even though you know it could be another bad review. You can't help, but read the feedback. Your breath fogs up the screen while you scan the message.





They like it? Oh my God, they like it!!!!





Emotional yet again, you pump your fist with a nod. That's right girl--the person I don't know and will never meet. Speak thy truth. I love you girl. I just can't tell you how much...*grabs for a tissue*





Overjoyed, and with a slightly scary perma-smile, you bask in the glory of the one sentence review.







The lone smile that would scare the pants off your roommate if he were here, turns to five minutes of fawning over yourself. You're amazing. Did you know that? You're just a friggin rock star. You should get highlights and maybe a side of fries to go with that entree of awesome.




 The moment comes when you realize your ego is starting to leak out the windows. You reel it back in and settle for a small mmph with your arm, a quiet yes from your lips.






Refueled from the fresh in your mind review, you smile sweetly with a flick of your lashes. You are writer and the people have spoken. They still love you.




Now where was I? Oh yes, chapter 2. Fabio,,,,,,,the merman pressed his lips to the vampire's chest,,,,,,a gutteral moan sounding from his fanged lover,,,,,,,,





ROFL XOXO NIGHTTEMPEST






Monday, August 27, 2012

In The Hot Seat: Guest Blogger Tali Spencer Talks *Sorcerer's Knot*: Bonus Giveaway!!

Hey everyone! I've got Tali Spencer in the Hot Seat talking about her new book Sorcerer's Knot. So let's give her a round of applause and a little love. Also be sure to comment with your name, email, and your favorite thing about the interview with Tali after the goodies, for a chance to win a copy of Sorcerer's Knot! Woot! We'll be drawing a winner Saturday at midnight (Eastern), so don't forget to comment! ♥♥ Now let's get to the  good stuff...


Back to Night's basement to get some answers!


About Tali Spencer:


Tali Spencer is fascinated by swords, mythology and everything ancient and magical. Thanks to a restless father, she grew up as a bit of a nomad and her vagabond youth lives on in a tendency to travel whenever she can.  She’s not afraid of planes, horses, trains, or camels.  Her preference is for ships, however, and few things relax her like a week or two at sea.  On land, her favorite destinations are castles, museums and cozy Italian restaurants. An irrepressible romantic, she and her true love reside in Pennsylvania, where she creates alternate worlds through which her characters can roam, brawl, and find themselves in each other’s arms. 





Whoa! This cover is yummy! 
I bet you're already sold on the cover alone. Buy Sorcerer's Knot here now.


Blurb:
In a world where pleasure unlocks even the best-guarded magic, Cian has a long list of magical talents—and an even longer list of sorcerers he slept with to acquire them. He even seduced a dragon. There’s just one arcane power left for him to master: command over the sea. Now Cian has learned where to find Muir the Scarred, the only man known to have mastered that power—and he is determined to wrest it from him by whatever means necessary.
But completing the task isn’t so easy. First, Cian’s boat is wrecked on the shores of Muir’s desolate island. Then he learns an enchantment will keep him there forever. And when he tries to seduce Muir, he finds himself being seduced by the mysterious sorcerer instead. But the source of the power Cian seeks is also trapped on the island, and it will stop at nothing to break free, even if that means forcing pleasure—and magic—from Cian's unwilling body.


Excerpt:
Cian began to remove his garments, one by one. He knew what he looked like without them, what peeling away layers of borrowed raiment would reveal. What he wore was scavenged, mismatched, salvaged from the sea or left behind by previous houseguests. None of the items suited his coloring. He yanked off his boots first, glad to rid himself of stiff, stained leather and missing nails. The wool jacket he shrugged off his arms was rough and patched, though the soft shirt beneath looked shabby only because it lay against skin as creamy as the ocean’s finest pearls. Lastly he unknotted the rope he’d used as a belt and pushed down his trousers, leaving only the draped and tucked linen of a loin wrap.
“I have something you want more than food,” he said.
Though the sorcerer did not speak a word of protest, Cian knew he’d guessed right. Half-formed desire gazed back at him from those pitch-dark eyes. Half-formed. What else lingered there issued a warning.
“I was wrong,” said Muir. “You may well eat tonight after all.”
“I’m not a whore, but I’m not a beast, either. I can’t live on grass. If my hard work won’t earn me food, maybe soft work will. I don’t want to leave here to toil in the village or on one of the farms, never repaying my great debt. I want to stay with you.”
“With me?” Muir smiled ever so slightly. He resumed stirring his soup, but he was listening. “You have no idea what you are asking, or offering. What will you do if I send you away?”
“Come back. Like a dog.”
Something predatory leaped over Muir, anger throwing off everything about him that was false. He ceased stirring his soup and strode to where Cian waited, stripped to a loincloth. He grasped Cian by the hair at the back of his neck and pulled him off-balance against him, mouth descending to capture his lips with a ferocity that made Cian gasp. And then that gasp too was taken, Muir’s tongue pushing it back into Cian’s throat as his free hand explored the smooth, offered flesh.
Instead of triumph, Cian felt fear, but it was a wild fear, exhilarating, the kind of fear that led men to hunt beasts capable of rending them with horns and claws. His cock hardened, tenting the loin wrap and pushing into the other man’s thigh. Muir’s power was within his grasp. He had sunk the hook and now had only to pull the man in, exhaust his senses and weaken his mind. Little by little, he yielded, giving himself over to that roaming hand, allowing Muir full access to his mouth. The man tasted like cherries, honey, and salt.
Cian wound his arms around Muir’s chest, pulling him tight and reveling in his scent. He smelled the sea, heard waves crashing. His moan vibrated the tongue now probing his surrender. With his hands, Cian explored Muir’s broad shoulders, grabbing handfuls of coarse wool, trying to undress him. Was Muir’s body scarred also? He dreaded what he might find, but he craved it too much to care. The path to power lay through Muir’s body.
He ground his groin against Muir, inhaling sharply when he felt the thrust of the man’s erection. Hard, long, and thick, rubbing against him with a summons he yearned to obey. For far too long, he’d denied his own urges. His mouth broke from Muir’s when the sorcerer grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him down, onto his knees. Mouth wet and puffy from being kissed, Cian looked up to see Muir rip at the lacings of his robe so the long-sleeved garment fell down over his arms and thighs to the floor.
Muir the Scarred was well named.
Trails of annular blemishes ribboned the pale skin of Muir’s previously hidden torso and limbs. Knotted ridges and rings of healed tissue, some half the width of Cian’s hand, strung along a serpentine path that curved from the sorcerer’s right shoulder, puckered over thick muscle and lay flat upon his breastbone, then continued down the ladder of his left side; more trails of ringed scars appeared under his arm to curl down his ribs and wrap around his hips. His cock, too, as long and thick as promised, was embellished with smaller variations. Ring-shaped cicatrices of pale rose encircled the dusky shaft, a swirling pattern at once shocking and strangely beautiful, like jewels embedded under the skin.
Muir reached down and ran his fingers through Cian’s hair. “I haven’t had a man as pretty as you in some time.”

Want to know more about Tali? Here are her author and buy links:

My Twitter: @tali_spencer
Sorcerer’s Knot buy link (Dreamspinner Press): http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3183


~~~~~~~~~~~~

I put Tali in the infamous Hot Seat for a few questions. Let's see what she had to say...

 ~ Who are your favorite authors (in your same genre or not) and some of the best books you’ve ever read? What is your favorite book that you remember from childhood? 
My favorite genres are fantasy and historical romance, so my favorite authors fall into both camps. I can’t even name them all, but long time favorites include J.R.R. Tolkien (The Lord of the Rings) and Tanith Lee (Night’s Master), whose Flat Earth fantasies I own in leather-bound special editions. Ursula K. LeGuin (The Left Hand of Darkness), also, blows me away with her imagination. Every writer of LGBT erotic fiction should read those last two writers and books. In M/M romance, I buy everything by Harper Fox (Scrap Metal) and Megan Derr (Prisoner). Both write lush, dense stories with fully realized characters. Outside of fantasy and romance, I read every Ian Rutledge mystery by author Charles Todd.
My favorite book from childhood was King of the Wind, by Marguerite Henry. It had everything I love: horses, exotic locales, a rags to riches storyline. Traces of that book’s influence live on in The Prince of Winds, and not just in the title: Henry’s book first inspired my love of things Middle Eastern.



~Every reader has probably wondered this from time to time, as you are a female writing M/M romance. Have you ever wished, even for a moment, that you were a gay man?

For a moment, sure. I have a limber imagination and can easily envision handing over this body for a male one. And a gay one. There’ve been times when I see a man and think, “I would like to experience him guy on guy.” My husband teases me about that. It’s a joke between us that I was probably a guy in a previous life because I’m pretty direct and adventurous about sex, and I say, “Maybe, but I like cock too much.” To which he says, “You were probably a gay guy.”



~Do you listen to music when you're writing and if so, what kind of music do you listen to?

I don’t listen to anything while writing. I like silence. But I do listen to music while imagining. There’s often an hour or so between when I stop writing and when my husband comes home. I may cook then, or simply relax, and that’s when I listen to music. Sometimes I set my scenes or even whole stories to a “soundtrack”. My favorite music comes from videogames—the Final Fantasy soundtracks are amazing, and while writing Captive Heart I listened to “Kingdom Hearts” almost nonstop for months. Videogame music is triumphant, you see, and I like triumphant. Classical music also inspires me, as does opera or some good hard-hitting rock. On our weekly long car trips to visit family, I’ve imagined whole scenes while listening to mixes containing Springsteen, Pink, and Muse, for example.



~If Sorcerer’s Knot had a theme song, what would it be?

I had to ponder this one, because that story didn’t actually have a soundtrack in my mind, but its theme song would have to be “It Dawned on Me” by Calla.



~If we could see your writing space, what would we see?

An Arts and Crafts Mission oak library desk from 1902 that once belonged to my great grandmother. I rescued it from my grandmother’s basement years ago when I first moved out on my own. I knew it would be my writing desk—and it has been. Everything I’ve ever written was born on it. It watched my kids grow up. The thing is enormous. I have my entire computer set up on there, along with my phone, modem, desk stuff, coffee cup (on a coaster), big bottle of water (ditto), and a nice lamp—and I still have desktop room to spare. The desk sits in a corner guest bedroom and we don’t usually have guests, so the whole room is pretty much mine. You’d see bookshelves groaning with reference books (if you need a book on metallurgy in the 14th century, I’m your girl), file cabinets, and a side table for my dictionaries, active story notes, and other stuff I need handy. The room also has a nice night table and day bed… for the occasional guest.




~ You’ve just been let loose in the world of fiction, with permission to do anyone you want. Who do you fuck first and why?

Gosh, I screw fictional characters (in my mind, at least) all the time. Sorry fellow writers, but I’ve taken shameless liberties. I don’t kiss and tell, though, so let’s see… does fiction include film and comic books? Because I’d have a go at Thor. I mean, come on, look at the man—he’s a god!






~If you could be a character in a fantasy fiction novel, who would you be and why?

Daenerys Targaryen, from The Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R. Martin. Why? Because I’d be beautiful, smart, and have my own dragons! Imagine what I could do with three of those…



~Where did you get the inspiration for Sorcerer’s Knot?

Sorcerer’s Knot began life as an idea for a story about a wizard who seeks to gain great power from a sea creature at horrible cost to himself. It was originally conceived as a story for the Literotica Halloween contest… but it never quite took shape and I went with another story instead. A few months later, MA Church thought it would be fun for us to try to get into a new anthology together. The theme was tentacles. Well, I had this story about a wizard and a sea creature… and sea creatures can have tentacles! I took the original idea, introduced another human character as a love interest, drew on some hot yaoi tentacle manga I’d read over the years, threw in a little H.P. Lovecraft, a dragon, and a nifty windswept island loosely based on the Faroes, and… wellah!



~Do you start a story with a character in mind and build their world around them, or is it the other way around?

That’s a trick question, right? Because I do both. It really does depend on the story. I love to root stories deeply in a setting, so on occasion setting does come first, as it did in “The Seventh Sacrifice,” a story I have coming out in an anthology this fall. I said to myself, “I’m going to set this story in La Paz.” And I took it from there, creating characters and a plot. But Sorcerer’s KnotCaptive Heart and The Prince of Winds all started with characters first.






~Did anything influence you personally towards the M/M genre?

There was a boy I knew in high school. He was my best friend and we both liked guys together and hung out, talking endlessly. He was wicked funny, the only kid my age who totally “got” my sense of humor (to this day, my family thinks I don’t have one), and as a result of our friendship I was probably one of the more sexually well-rounded virgins on the planet. I was already writing stories, of course, and it felt perfectly natural for some of my guys to fall in love with other guys, usually alien. My first efforts at publishing weren’t M/M, though. I thought I had to write straight love interests, so put M/M on the side for a long time.



~What does your husband think of you writing M/M fiction?

He’s completely proud of me, but it’s kind of funny how he handles it. He’s 100% gay-friendly, absolutely comfortable with me writing M/M romance… but he’s such a guy he can’t wrap his head around why women would want to either write or read M/M sex. I show him my book covers, or those of my writing friends, and he just looks bemused by all the male torsos. My writing M/M romance is not something he boasts about at the fantasy football draft.



~Do you have any quirky habits that come forth when writing?

Nothing other writers don’t do. I talk and laugh out loud, spout dialog, berate my characters. I like to name places or minor characters after people I know. Sometimes I stand up and act out scenes as a way of getting the action details right.




~If you won the lottery, how would you spend the money?

I’d invest the lion’s share of the money in a mix of blue chip global stock funds, market indexes, and U.S. Treasury bills. Then I’d use some of the money to buy a shore house, maybe in Ocean City, New Jersey, or thereabouts. And instead of taking one cruise a year, we’d take two. Oh, and I’d make my husband a kept man. He’d like that, I think.




~Do you feel that writing romance/erotica makes you a more sensual person?

That’s an interesting question. Part of why I write is because it’s a way for me to express my sensuality and sexuality. But I’m creative off the page as well—always have been. Let me just say that doing research for writing erotica does bring fresh ideas to the love life.



~If you could live in any time period other than the one you are currently in, when would that be and why?

If I could be rich and privileged, I would love to live in Imperial Rome. Hygiene was generally good, an upper class woman or man could read lots of books or attend interesting social events, even orgies, and slaves would do all the work. But if I had to be working class… I’ll stay where I am, thank you. Why would I give up washing machines, cars, air conditioning, and antibiotics?





~The great debate, vampires or werewolves?

Werewolves. I never got into vampires and can’t even explain why. They just do nothing for me. Werewolves are hit or miss, but a person unleashing his or her inner animal is a concept I can buy into.



~Is there anything you’d like to tell? Maybe something in the works you would like to promote?

My next M/M erotic fantasy, The Prince of Winds, is coming out from Dreamspinner in a few weeks. And “The Seventh Sacrifice” is a wickedly fun short story in Storm Moon Press’s Devil’s Night anthology, which will be available the first week of October. A M/M novel set in the world of Captive Heart (to which it’s a sequel) is with a publisher and I’ll have more about that soon. As for writing, I’m hard at work finishing up Thick as Thieves, a M/M sword and sorcery romp I started on my blog. The first chapters are still up on my blog if anyone is interested in checking them out.

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Thanks so much for stopping by Tali, and thank you to all my readers for visiting. Don't forget to leave a comment with your name, email, and your favorite part about the interview for a chance to win a free e-copy of Sorcerer's Knot! *does little dance* Tali will email the winner after the giveaway has ended. *throws confetti* 

Later guys and dolls. Muah.

XOXO NIGHTTEMPEST