Category: Historical

Charlie Cochrane on Writing Historicals and her holiday release ‘Wild Bells’ (guest blog)

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Wild Bells by Charlie Cochrane

Purchase at  7104e-waxcreative-amazon-kindle

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Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to have Charlie Cochrane. one of our favorite authors, here today to share with our readers about writing historicals and her latest release, Wild Bells. Welcome, Charlie.

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Why does “blizzard” make Charlie twitch?

The word “blizzard” makes me shudder. Not because I’ve ever been stuck out in one (although we did once have the most horrendous snow affected car journey) but because I used it in speech in the first edition of my Regency, “The Shade on a Fine Day”.  Now, it sounds a nice old word, doesn’t it? You can imagine King Lear blethering on about blizzards on the blasted heath. It isn’t. It’s late Victorian and comes from North America so my nice, gay Regency curate couldn’t have used it, unless he actually coined the word and it then somehow crossed the Atlantic.  Having the book come out in a revised edition has allowed me to correct my error!

I have to admit that no readers have ever taken me to task for this mistake, because it’s not an obvious blooper, but I know, which is quite sufficient. Sometimes authors are their own hardest critics. I hate getting anything wrong in my historicals, although things do slip through and my wonderful editors usually catch those, but the odd bit of stuff creeps into the final text, usually because something sounds old and isn’t.

Writing historicals can be a tricky business. To start with, that a lot of the challenge lies in the conscientious author’s head. If we didn’t care about getting things right, we could just plough on, putting the sound of Big Ben’s chimes into a Regency or letting our Victorian hero eat Jelly Babies, not checking dates and times and brands and all the other things which keep authors awake at night. We have to remember to get our men to raise their hats to a lady, to dress for dinner and to use the right words.

There is also a cadence and a rhythm to language, which makes some historicals (be they novels, films or tv programmes) sound out of kilter. I’d say to any aspirant historical writer to read things from the era they’re looking at. Novels, newspapers, plays, anything to get a feel for the words and the way they were used.

Now, there’s always the argument that says that the past isn’t so different from now. People haven’t changed, not matter what people say about the (surely imaginary) “good old days”, when everyone was decent and honest. I’m sure Ham, Shem and Japhet probably cheated at Ludo to get one over on Noah. I was recently reading about two Irish forwards dumping a Welsh rugby player into the crowd during the game, leaving him with nasty injuries including a couple of fractured ribs. Back in 1999? No. Back in 1899.

Human nature remains recognisable, even if the experiences and social conditions which play such a part in moulding people are different according to the time and place where they were raised. So getting it right in the story isn’t just a matter of language or customs, it’s about attitudes and expectations. I recently heard a keynote speech (at the Queer Company event) which illustrated the huge differences between the Regency era – the sort of period in which both the Wild Bells stories are set) and the Victorian age, and how that transformation had come about due to a number of factors such as movement into cities and economic changes. Fascinating stuff, all of which was new to me, even if I knew about the consequences.

The past has a wonderful capacity to surprise us; and sometimes it catches us out.

Wild Bells – Two stories by Charlie Cochrane

The Shade on a Fine Day:
Curate William Church may set the hearts of the parish’s young ladies aflame, but he doesn’t want their affection or presents, no matter how much they want to give them to him. He has his sights set elsewhere, for a love he’s not allowed to indulge. One night, eight for dinner at the Canon’s table means the potential arrival of a ghost. But what message will the spirit bring and which of the young men around the table is it for?

The Angel in the Window:
Two officers, one ship, one common enemy.
Alexander Porterfield may be one of the rising stars of the British navy, but his relationship with his first lieutenant, Tom Anderson, makes him vulnerable. To blackmail, to anxieties about exposure—and to losing Tom, either in battle or to another ship. When danger comes more from the English than the French, where should a man turn?

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About the Author

As Charlie Cochrane couldn’t be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice—like managing a rugby team—she writes. Her favourite genre is gay fiction, sometimes historical (sometimes hysterical) and usually with a mystery thrown into the mix.

She’s a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, Mystery People, and International Thriller Writers Inc., with titles published by Carina, Samhain, Bold Strokes Books, Lethe, MLR, and Riptide. She regularly appears with The Deadly Dames and is on the organising team for UK Meet.

To sign up for her newsletter, email her at cochrane.charlie2@googlemail.com, or catch her at:

A Caryn Review: You Are Not Me (’90s Coming of Age #2) by Leta Blake

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

you-are-not-me-by-leta-blakeI can’t remember the last time I was this emotionally connected to a book.  I read this through in one sitting, and I kept wanting to reach in and shake Peter, or warn him, or give him a hug, or something!!  And I’m now so invested I can’t wait for the last installment!

The book picks up immediately after Pictures of You ends – the summer between high school and college.  Peter’s boyfriend and first love, Adam, is in Italy to stay with his parents until college starts in the fall, while Peter remains at home, working to save money to go to University of Tennessee.  He’s still feeling that uncomfortable mix of guilt and want that was with him all through senior year, missing Adam, and wondering what really will happen when Adam gets back.

But the summer turns into a series of revelations for Peter.  All his high school friends?  Actually more of Adam’s friends, and Peter doesn’t have much in common with them anymore now that Adam is gone.  His parents, who had been distant and uninvolved his entire life, turn over a new leaf and become both supportive and intrusive.  Peter starts spending more time with Robert (his drag queen boss) and her boyfriend, and they both encourage him to get to know other gay people.  He had his first taste of being open and honest when he came out to his parents, and now he is exploring what it means to be gay, and thinking about coming out to the world at large.  His boss Robert takes it upon himself to introduce Peter to the gay community of Knoxville, primarily through  the club where he performs as a drag queen.  I was reminded at this point that Peter is still only 19 years old, with teenage judgement and teenage hormones – kudos to the author for making sure the reader never loses sight of this as he goes through all these difficult situations!  When he is exposed to the world of alcohol, drugs, anonymous sex and promiscuity, he gets conflicting advice from his friends, from “party hard” to “be safe”, and meanwhile he is still trying to decide how he is going to handle Adam when he comes back home.

To complicate things further, Daniel – who was introduced in the first book when Peter met him at Robert’s house – is back in the picture.  The initial attraction that Peter felt for him is still there, and perhaps even stronger now that Adam is only a voice on the phone or in a letter.  Daniel is everything that Adam is not:  he is completely out, mature, responsible, looking out for Peter and trying to keep him out of trouble, and completely honest with everybody.  Always.  Daniel wants Peter, everyone knows it, but he will not pursue Peter as long as Peter wants to stay faithful to Adam.

Peter’s choice:  stay with his closeted boyfriend whom he still loves and who says he needs him, or break it off and pursue what he knows would be a healthier relationship.  It should be an easy choice, but Adam still exercises a fascination that Peter has trouble resisting, and since Peter is basically loyal and generous, he can’t let Adam go.

That’s the kind of choice that makes a person really examine their values and their past decisions, knowing that the choice they make now will have a permanent influence on who they become.  Heavy stuff!  But sympathetically written, engaging, and once again ending at just the right spot when Peter makes that choice.

Finally, I really appreciated how the hysteria surrounding HIV/AIDS in the early 90s was presented.  The ways different gay men approached safe (or not) sex, testing, and those who were HIV positive.  25 years later, HIV is now a manageable chronic illness, and the general public is no longer so fearful of touching or even being around HIV positive people.  But I remember those days, remember doing HIV awareness programs in high schools – in the bible belt where we were forbidden to talk about condoms or safe sex! – and how bigots hoped that the “gay plague” would wipe out homosexuals.  Even though we have a long way to go for equality, we have come really far!

Cover is gorgeous and perfect for the story and series.

Sales Links

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Book Details:

ebook, 328 pages
Published November 29th 2016 by Leta Blake Books
ISBN139781626227613
Edition LanguageEnglish
Series’90s Coming of Age #2

Nicki Bennett on The Perils of POV and ‘Stronghold’ by Nicki Bennett and Ariel Tachna (Dreamspinner Press Author Guest Post )

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Stronghold (All for Love #3) by Nicki Bennett & Ariel Tachna
Dreamspinner Press
Cover art by Reese Dante

Sales Link

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The Perils of POV

It’s no secret that when we write together, we tend to use omniscient POV. To some extent that’s a product of how we write together, but it’s established enough in the All for Love series that Stronghold presented a real challenge for us. It’s hard to write omniscient POV when the characters aren’t together!

For two-thirds of Stronghold, Gerrard is in England and Raúl is in France, and so obviously those scenes were written entirely in the POV of the character we were with, including the memories of times they had spent together. This forced us to consider what to do with the scenes when they were physically together in the present, not just in their memories. We chose to leave the first scene in omniscient POV, since it represents the last hours of Raúl and Gerrard’s life together to that point, and everything readers know of their story until that time had been told in that manner. Once the chapter ends and they go their separate ways, however, we wrote the remainder of the story in limited POV.

That presented its own challenges, though, because we write together in real time, each of us taking a character and writing his thoughts, feelings, words, and actions. This method of collaboration creates very dynamic conversations and reactions because, much like in real life, each of us can only control what her character says and does, not how the other character reacts. For Stronghold, though, we had to find a way to mesh our writing process with the POV of the scene we were working on. In some ways it was harder. How as an author do we convey the character’s reactions if we aren’t in his head and can only see him through the other character’s eyes? On the other hand, the challenge was a good stretch of our skills, of showing rather than telling. The reactions/thoughts/feelings of the non-POV character had to be clear enough that the POV character could interpret them for the reader, either through his knowledge of his lover or, in the case of some of their memories, through the lens of later discussion between the two of them about those memories.

Omniscient POV is a valid choice that can be necessary in some stories. Partnership in Blood could never have been written in limited POV, even multiple limited POVs, because of the wide scope of its storyline and the large number of characters involved. When we started writing Checkmate and All for One ten years ago, omniscient POV was what we were comfortable with. In the intervening years, we’ve learned that some readers don’t enjoy it (too much “head-hopping”) and that the current industry trends lead toward a single POV in any given scene. As we’ve evolved as writers, we’ve moved more in that direction in all our work, but Stronghold was started five years ago. Then we took a three-year hiatus before finishing it. The end of the book is definitely a reflection of our evolution as writers compared to when the series and even Stronghold began.

We’ve included two excerpts below, one from the opening of the story written in omniscient POV, and a second from later in the book written in limited POV. Which do you prefer?

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Blurb

“Are you surprised that strength is drawn to strength?”

For the last six years, the gypsy healer Raúl has lived a life he never dreamed possible. Gerrard Hawkins has stood at his side, his love a source of silent strength like nothing Raúl has ever known.

When a letter from Gerrard’s estranged father forces them in separate directions—Gerrard back to England to make peace with his family and Raúl to Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer for his annual pilgrimage—Raúl expects to suffer for their parting, but he holds on to their plans to meet again in France when Gerrard has satisfied his father’s demands.

Gerrard left England never expecting to return, especially after he pledged his life and love to Raúl. Yet he cannot dismiss his father’s offer of peace without some acknowledgment. When he arrives in England to find tragedy, his sense of duty toward his family’s tenants wars with his promises to Raúl.

As tensions mount and illness spreads in France, Raúl stands as a bastion of hope, but his strength is not limitless. Gerrard is the rock he leans on, and without that strength, Gerrard’s arrival in France may come too late.

Excerpt

“I should leave in the morning,” Gerrard Hawkins said with a deep sigh. “I don’t want to, but if I must go, the sooner I leave, the sooner I will be able to return.”

The room was cool despite the unseasonably warm April weather, but the thick walls of Ambassador Blackwood’s hôtel particulier, where he and Raúl had been guests for over six months, kept the heat out, and Gerrard was glad of the warmth from the fire at his back.

“I won’t be gone more than a month. Two at the most.”

The shiver that curled up the nerves of Raúl’s spine had nothing to do with the coolness of the room. His eyelids flickered shut, the vision lasting only a moment, though that was enough to chill him even further. Drawing a breath, he opened his hazel eyes to fix on Gerrard, replacing the illusion with the reality of Gerrard’s presence for as long as it was still his to claim.

“Of course you must go,” Raúl said. “The claims of family are not to be ignored. And you have been absent from them far longer than they ever expected.”

Gerrard rolled his eyes. “Were it not for my nephew’s death and my brother James’s illness, my father would be happy never to see me again. He made his opinion quite clear before I left England with Christian. I am far happier with you than I ever was in his house. I will do my duty by them and return to your side, where I belong.” Rising from his seat, he drew Raúl into his arms, bending to kiss the slender column of his neck. Raúl’s willowy figure had deceived Gerrard when they first met, but no longer. He knew the steely strength belied by the lithe form and fully intended to take advantage of it before the night was over.

Letting Gerrard pull him into an embrace, Raúl raised a hand to brush through the crisp, dark hair, longer than it had been when they first met six years before, though still far shorter than his own. He indulged in the warmth of Gerrard’s lips against his throat until the need to taste in return became too strong to resist. Closing his fingers around the silken strands, he urged Gerrard’s dark head down, claiming his full lips in a demanding kiss.

Gerrard gave in eagerly to Raúl’s demand, parting his lips so Raúl could ravish his mouth. The thought of being separated for the first time in almost six years tore at his heart. Pulling away, he caught Raúl’s face between his hands. “Give me something to remember you by,” he pleaded. “Some token to carry with me while we’re apart.”

The love, tinged with anticipated sorrow, lighting Gerrard’s deep brown eyes so filled Raúl’s thoughts that the words did not at first register. When they did, he smiled, tugging gently with the hand still woven in Gerrard’s hair. “A token?” he repeated. “A scarf, perhaps, to cover your hair like a Rom’s? You might set a new fashion in England.”

Gerrard laughed. “I think perhaps my father might object to that.” He fingered the gold loop that pierced Raúl’s ear. “Then again, I suspect he would object to anything associated with you and my new life, but many a Rom has a scarf. I was hoping for something more intimate.”

“More intimate? You already carry my heart with you,” Raúl answered, the words full of meaning for all they were spoken with a lilt of humor. “I fear any more intimate portions of my anatomy must await your return. But what think you of this?” He swept the dark hair behind Gerrard’s ear, tracing his fingers over the whorled shell to linger at the lobe. “A ring to mark you as Rom.” As mine, his heart whispered as he rubbed his thumb over the pendant flesh. “Your hair is long enough that it may escape your father’s notice.”

“I care not if he notices,” Gerrard said, voice rough with desire. He leaned into Raúl’s touch, his body tingling with the thought of his gypsy leaving a permanent record of their relationship. “Mark me as yours, love.”

~~~~~

A knock at the door drew their attention. Gerrard was loath to let Raúl go even long enough to open the door, but he knew how Raúl felt about showing weakness to others. That he had leaned on Gerrard so much already with others around was a testament to how worn down he was. “Sit,” Gerrard urged. “That will be water or food. I will take it and send the servant on his way.”

“There should be clean clothes in that armoire,” Raúl said as he bent to remove his boots. “After wearing these for the past sennight, I will be glad to be rid of them.”

Gerrard set the plate of meat, bread, and cheeses the kitchen maid delivered on the dresser and turned back to Raúl before he could unfasten the collar of his doublet. “I’ll do that,” he murmured, kneeling before him to slip the ties free and gently lift the fabric over Raúl’s head. He tossed it aside and kissed a path down the cords of Raúl’s throat, then turned his head to rest it against Raúl’s chest. Raúl’s breath rose and fell unsteadily, which Gerrard would rejoice in if he were sure he was the cause of it. “You’ve exhausted yourself,” he admonished, running a palm down Raúl’s side. Raúl was always slender, but the ribs beneath the skin were too prominent for Gerrard’s liking. “You give and give to others and forget to reserve anything for yourself.”

“It is a failing of mine,” Raúl said, “especially when you are not around to remind me.” He coughed fitfully into his hand, only increasing Gerrard’s worry.

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About the Authors

Growing up in Chicago, Nicki Bennett spent every Saturday at the central library, losing herself in the world of books. A voracious reader, she eventually found it difficult to find enough of the kind of stories she liked to read and decided to start writing them herself.

Visit Nicki:

When Ariel Tachna was twelve years old, she discovered two things: the French language and romance novels. Those two loves have defined her ever since. By the time she finished high school, she’d written four novels, none of which anyone would want to read now, featuring a young woman who was—you guessed it—bilingual. That girl was everything Ariel wanted to be at age twelve and wasn’t.

She now lives on the outskirts of Houston with her husband (who also speaks French), her kids (who understand French even when they’re too lazy to speak it back), and their two dogs (who steadfastly refuse to answer any French commands).

Visit Ariel:

Release Day Blitz for You Are Not Me (’90s Coming of Age, #2) by Leta Blake (excerpt and giveaway)

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Title: You Are Not Me

Series: ’90s Coming of Age, #2

Author: Leta Blake

Publisher: Leta Blake Books

Release Date: 11/28/2016

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 100,000 words

Genre: New Adult, coming of age

Add to Goodreads

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Synopsis

Follow Peter into the summer following his senior year to face new beginnings, new friends, and old baggage.

After a tumultuous final year of high school, Peter Mandel needs a break. It’s the summer of 1991, and his secret relationship with his ‘best friend’ Adam Algedi is put on hold as Adam goes away to Italy for the summer. On the cusp of adulthood, Peter has a couple of months to explore who he is without Adam at his side.

Enter Daniel McPeak, a slightly older, out, responsible college guy with a posse of gay friends and an attraction for Peter. Drawn into the brave new world of the local gay club, Peter embarks on a whirlwind of experiences—good and bad—which culminate in a hotel room where he has to make the ultimate choice.

But Adam will come back eventually, and there are promises that have to be kept. As autumn draws near and college awaits, can Peter break free of the binds of twisted first love? And what exactly is Daniel’s role in his life – a brief temptation, or something more?

Join Peter in the second book of this four-part coming of age series as he struggles to love and be loved, and grow into a gay man worthy of his own respect.

***

This new series by Leta Blake is gay fiction with romantic elements.

Book 2 of 4.
Length: 100,000 words, 328 pages

These books contain aspects of: New Adult fiction, ‘90s gay life, small city homosexual experiences, Southern biases, sexual exploration, romance, homophobia, bisexuality, and twisted-up young love. Oh, and a guaranteed happy ending for the main character by the end of Book 4.

Excerpt

The stool next to me wasn’t empty for long. Minty dropped onto it, his purple tutu rubbing against my chinos and his thin, white arms curled up to rest on the bar. He stared at me for a long, curious second. “I’ve met you before, right?”

“Yeah.” I shook off my disappointment and gave him my attention. “Last spring, up on campus.”

“Did we fuck?”

I almost choked on my soda. “No.”

“Right.” Minty frowned. “Did I suck you off?”

I stared at him.

“Well?”

“My car was broken down,” I said slowly. “Daniel helped me.”

Minty grinned. “Oh, right! I remember now. You looked amazing that night. Made of moonbeams. Everyone was made of moonbeams.” He tilted his head. “You look all right now too.”

“Thanks?”

Minty laughed and fluffed his tutu. He turned away from me to hammer his fists on the bar. “Jolly Zima, Barry! Watermelon! Hit me!”

Barry rolled his eyes, but he pulled a Zima out from the fridge and popped the lid, then reached under the counter and came out with a watermelon Jolly Rancher, unwrapped it, and dropped it into the drink. Minty slapped three dollars down and took a dainty sip.

“Ah! Perfection!” He turned to me with his eyelashes lowered flirtatiously. “Anyway, back to what you were saying. We haven’t fucked yet?”

Startled, nervous laughter bubbled out of my mouth.

“Minty,” Barry said. “Drink your Zima and leave Peter alone.”

“Sure thing. You’re the boss.” Minty sighed and leaned toward me conspiratorially. “He won’t fuck me either. What’s a girl gotta do these days? I mean, I look good, don’t I?”

I looked him over—white, though scuffed, ballet slippers, purple tutu, toned, pale, lithe arms, and his made-up face. “Sure. You look really pretty.”

Minty grinned. “Aw, you know how to make a girl feel nice.”

“Didn’t I just see you downstairs with two guys, though?”

“Two? Please. That’s just a warm-up.” He sniffed.

Renée appeared at my side, dropping an arm around my shoulder. “Minty, doll baby, I need you backstage in an hour. You’re my naughty boy tonight.”

“Okay, but I want to wear my tutu.”

“You’ll be gorgeous.” Renée grabbed hold of Minty’s face and looked him over. “We need to put some eyelashes on you too.”

“And red lipstick.”

“Yes! Every man in this room will ache to be in that pert ass of yours.” She glanced at me and then back at Minty. “Except Peter here.”

“He catches?” Minty asked.

“Like Johnny Bench, baby.”

I didn’t like my positional preferences being discussed like it was any of their business, but I was mystified that Renée seemed so certain about it. Was there something about me that screamed loves it up the ass?

“How do you know who Johnny Bench is, woman?” Barry handed Renée a milky-looking drink topped with brown liquor.

“I listen!”

“I’ve never mentioned baseball to you and you know it.”

“Of course not. You’d never do that to me. Earl at Ringo Comics, though, he babbles on and on about it when he’s trying not to come. Earl says I catch like a pro.” She patted her ass.

Daniel was right last spring when he said Robert and Renée were the same but different people. Robert could be sassy and forthright about his sexual shenanigans, but raunchy details rarely left his mouth. My face burned.

“Hear, hear!” Minty cried, throwing back his head to draw a long swig from his Zima.

Barry frowned. It was the first time I’d seen Barry look even moderately unhappy about Renée—or Robert’s—indiscretions.

“What?” Renée asked defensively.

“Earl’s positive.” Barry’s gaze bore into her. “You used a condom?”

“Of course!” Renée licked her lips and shifted nervously to her other foot, her hip cocking out. “I always do. You know that.”

Minty bit his purple-painted thumbnail, eyes going distant. “I’m probably positive. I should get tested. My mom wants me to get tested.”

Barry nailed Minty and Renée with a frustrated glare. He reached under the counter and pulled out two condoms. Then his gaze shifted to me and he pulled out a third. “For fuck’s sake, use these. Every time. Every damn time.”

Renée stuffed the condom in her bra. Minty held it up in front of his face and then gave it a kiss before lifting up his tutu to tuck it into the waistband of his white briefs. Nodding, I pocketed the one Barry handed to me, even though I wasn’t going to need it. Adam was in Italy and the casual sex Minty and Renée played with was something I’d never risk.

Breaking the tension, the two guys Minty and Daniel had come upstairs with shoved into the space between us, ordering beers from Barry and slinging their arms around Minty’s shoulders or Renée’s waist.

“Who’s this?” asked the muscular, olive-toned one, dropping a kiss on Minty’s upturned cheek.

“Peter,” Minty said sweetly, like I was a cat he was fond of. “He knows Renée, Barry, and Daniel.”

“Ah.” The guy was handsome with bedroom eyes. Dark circles smudged beneath them, as if he’d just left a fistfight or he’d been crying his eyes out. Both thoughts twisted something up in me, a hand grabbing my heart and squeezing for a second. He looked like he needed a hug.

Minty caught me staring up at his friend. “He’s smarter than he looks,” he said, out of the blue, and I blinked in confusion. “And he likes to kiss more than fuck.”

“Okay?” I had no idea why Minty was telling me this.

“Oh, and he’s a big pussy cat when he’s in love.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“What?” Minty looked scandalized. “Of course not. That’s gross.” He grinned slyly. “He could be your boyfriend, though.”

I shook my head, and Minty laughed.

“Name’s Antonio,” the guy said, sticking out his hand. “Ignore him. He’s always trying to set me up with pretty bottoms. I keep telling him I’m not a top.”

Minty rolled his eyes. “You have to be a top. Have you looked in the mirror? Those eyes? That mouth? Your tough-guy pout? C’mon. Fuck me.”

Antonio sighed. “I only like to stick it in chicks. I’ve told you.” He tugged their Asian friend a little closer. “This one’s the top.”

I gulped club soda, unsure how to deal with a conversation with complete strangers about who liked what about butt sex.

“I forget you’re bisexual,” Minty said archly to Antonio. “You never bring girls around.”

Antonio snorted. “I love eating pussy, but nothing beats a cock up my ass.”

“Cheers!” Minty cried, toasting the sentiment.

Antonio went on. “Sometimes a man’s gotta make a choice about what he wants to pursue in life, and, well, I’m chasing dick.”

“Can’t blame you for that, man,” Barry said, nodding.

Minty grabbed their Asian friend’s tie and pulled him down close, saying to me, “This is Windy. With an ‘i’ in the middle and a ‘y’ on the end. And he tops like a champ.”

Windy kissed Minty’s cheek and winked at me.

Minty’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t ask where he’s from, it pisses him off.”

“Why would I ask him that?” I said, confused.

“People always want to know. ‘Are you from Japan? Or China?’” Minty rolled his eyes. “He’s from Vietnam.”

Windy shoved Minty hard enough to unseat him from his stool. “I’m from Kentucky, asshole.”

I sipped my club soda. “Kentucky’s nice. Horse farms. Bluegrass.”

Windy laughed.

Once Minty had righted himself, he gripped my shoulder and whisper-yelled into my ear, “Windy’s basically my best friend besides Daniel. We only fucked once.”

Windy corrected him again. “Twice, actually.”

“That’s how I know for sure he’s a great top. You should try him.”

“Um, no. Thank you. I’m good,” I babbled.

Windy laughed at me and then swept in and gave Minty a wet kiss on the mouth. I wasn’t sure if there was tongue or not. Breaking away, Windy grabbed Minty’s Zima and took a swallow from it.

“So, Minty and Windy, are those your real names?” I asked.

“Is your real name Peter?” Minty asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Yes?”

“Well, aren’t you lucky then?” He tossed head, lifted his hand dramatically, and Windy pulled him up from the stool. “To the dance floor!” He grabbed hold of my arm and tugged me up too. “Let’s show this crowd what gorgeous bitches we are!”

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Meet the Author

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Author of the bestselling book Smoky Mountain Dreams and fan favorite Training Season, Leta Blake’s educational and professional background is in psychology and finance, respectively. However, her passion has always been for writing. She enjoys crafting romance stories and exploring the psyches of made up people. At home in the Southern U.S., Leta works hard at achieving balance between her day job, her writing, and her family.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | eMail

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Two lucky winners will win an ebook copy of Pictures of You, ’90s Coming of Age #1

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A MelanieM Review: Murder Between the Pages by Josh Lanyon

Rating: 4.5 stars out of 5

murder-between-the-pages-by-josh-lanyonFelix Day, author of the Constantine Sphinx mysteries, and Leonard Fuller, author of the Inspector Fez mysteries, are bitter rivals and the best of enemies. Both happen to present when a notorious author of roman à clef is shot by an invisible assailant during a signing at historic Marlborough Bookstore.

Even if they weren’t both suspects, it’s the perfect opportunity to match wits and sleuthing skills.

If only the murderer was equally amused.

Murder Between the Pages by Josh Lanyon combines so many of my  favorites elements.  You have two main characters who happen to write murder mysteries of the type that were popular in the 40’s (and now, they never go  out of style).  They both have incredible past histories, war experiences that have marked them severely enough that neither feels suited to a “typical” return to normal life after the war.  And of course, you have the murder (sometimes murders) mysteries to be investigated and solved by the end of the story.  Romance too, lets not forget.

All wrapped up in a story that involved snappy dialog, beautifully layered characters, and an historical tone and feel that has the post war era all over it.  I loved  it all, from the author hostilities at the book club over their very similiar detectives to the terms used by gay men to signal their sexuality to each other in the 40’s.  Just so well done.

Of course, Josh Lanyon is a favorite author of mine for exactly the same reasons I loved this story.  Its short but doesn’t feel that way.  Its concise and yet at times, I could slow my reading down and admire the language and descriptions of the men and locations.  There’s my regret of a lost character who came and went too soon.  He was so well written even for one so briefly known, full-flavored and believable.

And then there’s the mystery. It comes with just the right amount of angst and flair for the dramatic.

I adore stories like this, can’t get enough of them.  Luckily I have Josh Lanyon who seems to love writing them as much as I love reading them.  Now I can’t wait for the next one to flow off Lanyon’s pen or what have you.

Cover art is superb.  Love it too.

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Book Details:

Kindle Edition, 144 pages
Published November 8th 2016 by JustJoshin Publishing, Inc.
ASIN B01K2M0QXG
Edition Language English