Love Fantasy Stories? Here’s A Collection Made for You! MYTHS UNTOLD: BOOK ONE – FAERY

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MYTHS UNTOLD: BOOK ONE – FAERY
Publisher: Wilde City Press

Authors: August Li, Brandon Witt,J. Scott Coatsworth and Skye Hegyes
Cover Artist: August Li
Release Date: 4/13/16

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to  have the authors of Myths Untold – Faery here to answer a few questions. Welcome to August Li, Brandon Witt,J. Scott Coatsworth and  Skye Hegyes.

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How do you write – are you a plotter or pantser, or both?

J. Scott Coatsworth: Hmmm… I used to totally be a pantser. I would sit down at my typewriter (seriously – a typewriter!) and just start typing whatever came to me. On the plus side, I got some amazing ideas that came out of my Oreo-addled brain.

But on the negative size, I ended uo with a bunch of 1 and 2 and 3 scene stories that never went anywhere, and nothing to show for the work.

Over time, I have become much more of a plotter. I still don’t work out every detail in advance. There has to be some room for my writer mind to wander.

And sometimes the story or the characters throw me for a loop and send the story of in an entirely different direction.

But those old stories had one unexpected benefit. Periodically I go back to them and pluck them out of their virtual drawer to expand them into finished stories. Are they the same stories I might have written fifteen, twenty, twenty five years ago? Almost certainly not. But they are the stories I want to tell today – and three of them have now been published.

So I’ll steal a phrase from my writer friend SA Collins – I’m now a tentpole pantser. I set up the major points like tentpoles along the way, and I fill in the details as I go.

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August Li: I usually have a lot of my story done in my head before I sit down to transcribe it. I’m a little obsessive, and I think about the characters constantly–part of the reason I can’t work on more than one thing at a time. The plus side of knowing the characters that well, though, is no matter how much of the plot I have outlined in my head, they will say and do things to surprise me. That’s what makes it fun for me. I never really know what the characters will do, and things rarely turn out how I originally envisioned them.

Brandon Witt: I am total planner. Each book gets its own notebook, filled with plot lines, character studies, family trees, questions, outlines, etc. Some of the stuff never gets put into the book, but to me, it makes my characters richer and I like to believe their fuller story is felt, even if not seen. That doesn’t mean that my books always go the way I plan, they don’t, and my characters often surprise me—which is fun! Often, the planning stages takes as long for me as the writing (not in hours, but in days and time spent thinking about different aspects).

Skye Hegyes: I’m a bit of both. With short stories and some of the novellas I’ve worked on, I can take a vague idea and run with it, writing it without planning too much. That said, novels are another story. I recently tried pantsing a novel and just couldn’t do it. I’m a definite plotter where novels are concerned.

Blurbs

Faeries are part of mythology the world over, past, present, and future. Called elves, brownies, the fae, and more, they evoke a sense of wonder and a little danger. Faery has its own rules, and humans enter at their peril.

In this spirit, we bring you the first book in the Myths Untold anthology series—four stories from the land of the Fae: a homeless man in Cardiff and the luck that could destroy him; the trans man in future San Francisco who falls for an elf; the village boy who has always been a little different; and a faery prince whose birthright was stolen from him.

Welcome to Faery.

The Pwcca and the Persian Boy, by Gus Li

Despite beauty and luck, something about Glyn makes everyone uncomfortable. Homeless on the streets of Cardiff, he has nothing to keep him going but his friendship with Farrokh. Through stealing and fortune’s occasional favor, Glyn keeps them alive. But then homeless youths begin to disappear, and when Farrokh goes missing, Glyn begins to discover the reasons behind both his luck and the way people react to him. Determined to save his friend from a danger he never imagined, he enlists the help of Lleu, who might be an ally, or might be manipulating Glyn to achieve his own goals.

The Other Side of the Chrysalis, by Brandon Witt

In a species that values beauty above all else, Quay looses both his freedom and his birthright as prince of the fairies.  Lower than an outcast, he watches over his younger brother, hoping against hope that Xenith’s rebirth will provide safety and positions that has slipped through Quay’s grasp.  Though he expected kindness from no one, Quay gradually starts to trust that there is more to life, even for the likes of him, as sexual encounters with Flesser, a fairy barely accepted himself, turn from lust to love.  Quay knows having forbidden relationships will be his undoing,  but he is powerless to turn away.

Changeling, by Skye Hegyes

With his pointed ears and a tail, Tyler’s always been different than the other children, but until Marsh, a brownie tells him he’s a changeling, he never thought he wasn’t human. Now he will discover what faery life is like, and just how being a changeling could change his life. On the way, his ties with his mother will be pushed and prodded even as his friendships grow and his love life blossoms.  However, in a village of God-fearing people, those who are different are spurned and Tyler will discover how much trouble a fledgling changeling can get into.

Through the Veil, by J. Scott Coatsworth

In the not-too-distant future, San Francisco has been swamped by rising sea levels caused by global warming, and has only survived by building a wall to keep the water out of the heart of the City. Colton is a trans man barely getting by on the canals outside the wall. Tris is an elf who has come to the human world on his journey to become a man. Fate brings them together, and everything changes for Colton when he sets out with Tris to find the elf’s missing brother, taking Colton behind the Wall for the first time.

Length: 79K
Format: eBook, Paperback
Pairing: MM

Buy Link at Wilde City Press

Available at the Wilde City website 4/13/16; other sites one week later.
Price: eBook $5.99, paperback TBD

Author Bios

augusta0liGus Li

August (Gus) Li is a creator of fantasy worlds. When not writing, he enjoys drawing, illustration, costuming and cosplay, and making things in general. He lives near Philadelphia with two cats and too many ball-jointed dolls.

He loves to travel and is trying to see as much of the world as possible. Other hobbies include reading (of course), tattoos, and playing video games.

Brandon Wittbrandon-witt

Brandon Witt’s outlook on life is greatly impacted by his first eighteen years of growing up gay in a small town in the Ozarks, as well as fifteen years as a counselor and special education teacher for students with severe emotional disabilities.

Add to that his obsession with corgis and mermaids, then factor in an unhealthy love affair with cheeseburgers, and you realize that with all those issues, he’s got plenty to write about…

Skye Hegyesskye-hegyes

Dragons, wolves, and sharp objects are commonplace in Skye Hegyes’s home in North Carolina. She spends most of her time between writing and working. When not doing either of these things, you may find her making crafts or adventuring with her family, which consists of her husband, two daughters, two birds, and three cats… and a partridge in a pear tree…

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J. Scott Coatsworthj-scott-coatsworth

Scott has been writing since elementary school, when he and won a University of Arizona writing contest in 4th grade for his first sci fi story (with illustrations!). He finished his first novel in his mid twenties, but after seeing it rejected by ten publishers, he gave up on writing for a while.

Over the ensuing years, he came back to it periodically, but it never stuck. Then one day, he was complaining to Mark, his husband, early last year about how he had been derailed yet again by the death of a family member, and Mark said to him “the only one stopping you from writing is you.”

Since then, Scott has gone back to writing in a big way, finishing more than a dozen short stories – some new, some that he had started years before – and seeing his first sale. He’s embarking on a new trilogy, and also runs the Queer Sci Fi (http://www.queerscifi.com) site, a support group for writers of gay sci fi, fantasy, and supernatural fiction.

Giveaway

Enter to win a copy of the QSF Discovery Flash Fiction anthology.  Must be 18 years of age or older to enter.  Don’t forget to leave your email address where you can be reached if chosen.

A Early Bird Look at a New Release: Sue Brown’s The Layered Mask (a Masquerade Regency Romance)

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The Layered Mask (Masquerade) by Sue Brown
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ublisher:  Dreamspinner Press (2nd edition)
Sales Link: Dreamspinner Press

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Love Author Sue Brown?  Sue Brown has a new release out from Dreamspinner Press.  Have a few sips of coffee or tea and check out the cover and blurb below:

About The Layered Mask, a Regency novel...

Threatened by his father with disinheritance, Lord Edwin Nash arrives in London with a sole purpose: to find a wife. A more than eligible bachelor and titled to boot, the society matrons are determined to shackle him to one of the girls by the end of the season.

During a masquerade ball, Nash hides from the ladies vying for his attention. He is discovered by Lord Thomas Downe, the Duke of Lynwood. Nash is horrified when Downe calmly tells him that he knows the secret Nash has hidden for years and sees through the mask Edwin presents to the rest of the world.

 And then he offers him an alternative.

Book Details:

ebook, 2nd edition
Expected publication: July 22nd 2015 by Dreamspinner Press (first published February 3rd 2012)
ISBN139781634764933
edition languageEnglish
series Masquerade

About Sue Brown:

 Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn’t following their orders, she can be found plotting at her laptop. In fact she hides so she can plot and has got expert at ignoring the orders.

Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she’s made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.

Contact her at:  Goodreads Author Page | Website

Love Skates On Thin Ice with the Long Change by V. L. Locey (excerpt and giveaway)

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Book Name: Long Change by V. L. Locey
Release Date: June 26, 2015

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Goodreads Link
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave
Cover Artist: Allyse Karam

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Sales Links: AmazonKobo  |Ellora`s Cave

STRW Author BookSynopsis

Collegiate superstar goalie Boone Crockett seems to have the world at his feet. He’s rich, handsome, attends an elite college and is a hot prospect for the pros. Pity all that is a front for a deeply closeted and troubled young man.

All Boone’s life plans are shattered when flamboyant ex-figure skater Preston Gordon, an orange-haired twink, shows up to audition for the team’s mascot position wearing sequins, scarves and toe picks. His moves on the ice send Boone into his own pirouette of frustrated and reluctant desire.

As senior year progresses Boone slides deeper and deeper into a dangerous depression, Preston’s sensual strength the only thing he has to hold on to. If Boone can’t keep from plunging through the thin ice he’s skating on, it could take a twink to make the big save.

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
A Romantica® gay erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Pages or Words: 70 pages

Categories: Contemporary, M/M Romance, Sports

STRW Spotlight Book Excerpt

We stood side by side at the sliding door that looked out over a snow-covered campus. It was beautiful, untouched and pure. I was rather glad now that I hadn’t done the head in the stove thing. We talked between swallows, spoons hitting bowls the only noise aside from the heater coming on from time to time. I liked watching the way Preston’s hair fluttered around his face when hot air blew down from the vent directly above us. He handed me his empty bowl, then unlocked and opened the slider.
“Dude, heater’s on,” I pointed out. He crouched down. I inhaled. The air was brittle like a dead leaf and cold with a light scent of snow on pine. It was an odd sensation, the cold blowing in to blend with the warm cascading down from above. It wasn’t unpleasant at all. The patio was blanketed in four to five wet inches. Preston stood up. His head turned slowly. I looked over at him, a sated smile trying to curl the corners of my mouth. He was patting a perfectly formed snowball.
“Don’t even think about it you mother—”
Snow filled my mouth, nose and eyes. Preston shrieked. I sputtered, shaking snow out of my eyes, then dashed after him. He was fast and proved hard to get a hand on. After a few laps around the furniture in my living room, the dipshit ran out into the hall. I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t. I had ice particles dangling from my eyelashes. Vengeance would be mine. We thundered down the steps, his high-pitched squeals of laughter and my warning growls seeming extra loud in the ghost town of a dorm building. The side exit flew open. I barreled out on his heels. The snow was freezing on my bare soles. Preston hissed a nasty curse when his naked tootsies hit the white stuff. He slowed just enough. I tackled him from behind. He went face first into the fresh fluff, all the air leaving his lungs with a loud “Oof!” when I landed on his back.
I clawed up a nice handful of snow as he frantically tried to free himself. I had him pinned, one arm picking up wet powder, the other holding his face into the drift. Wicked laughter boiled out of me when I shoved that snowball down his back. His scream was piercing. He kicked like a wild man, his arms flailing to the sides. I flopped down on him to ensure the snow was plastered to his back.
“Get off! Oh, fuck me, that is so cold! You asshole!” he shouted.
I stayed where I was, splayed over his back, my hand down the back of his shirt, chuckling steadily. I rolled off a moment later still bubbling with laughter. The sky overhead was filled with snow clouds. You know those huge white ones that blow over, drop some flakes, then continue on to let the sun shine down on the freshly carpeted world? Eyes closed, chest heaving, heart lighter than it had been in months, I spread my arms and legs out, inhaled the unique scents of winter and Preston and enjoyed the tickle of new snowflakes touching my cheeks.
“I hate you.”
I rolled my head in his direction and opened my eyes. “Really?”
His mouth rolled into a perfect pout. He was such a pretty thing, even with snow-frosted bangs.
“No,” he huffed as he dashed at the melting snow on his chin. “I should, though. That was heartless!”
“I’ll warm you back up if you want.” The offer slid out of me before I could stop it. A snowflake landed on the tip of Preston’s pixie-like nose. I so wanted to reach out, touch the perfect flake, dry his nose then pull him down for long, wet kiss. Instead I got to my bare feet, standing now in the shadow of the moisture-laden cloud overhead. “I didn’t mean to say that out here.”
“You can, you know,” he said, extending his hand to me. I looked around the quad, the creeping stink of worry now mucking up what had been a perfect moment. “You can say you want to warm me up, or that I have a cute ass, or anything else you want to say. Go ahead. Say it again.”
I shook my head as I hauled him to his feet. Damn, my feet were cold. I turned from him then walked inside, my head low, my mind filling up with concern over my stupid behavior. What the hell had I been thinking, chasing him outside then rolling around in the snow with him as if we were straight lovers.

 

STRW Author Bio and Contacts

About Author V.L. Locey:
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted goofy domestic fowl, and three steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.

Where to find the author:

Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/pages/VL-Locey/124405447678452
Twitter- https://twitter.com/vllocey
Pinterest-http://www.pinterest.com/vllocey/
Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5807700.V_L_Locey
My blog- http://thoughtsfromayodelinggoatherder.blogspot.com/
tsú – https://www.tsu.co/vllocey

RC

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Rafflecopter Prize: E-copy of ‘Long Change’ by V.L. Locey. Must be 18 years of age or older to enter. Link and prizes provided by the author and Pride Promotions.

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Tour Dates & Stops: June 26, 2015
Parker Williams, Kimi-Chan, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Bike Book Reviews, Full Moon Dreaming, Hearts on Fire, Havan Fellows, Bayou Book Junkie, SiK Reviews, Because Two Men Are Better Than One, Mikky’s World of Books, Happily Ever Chapter, Up All Night, Read All Day, Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews, Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents, MM Good Book Reviews, Rainbow Gold Reviews, Velvet Panic, Divine Magazine

It’s Here! Pulp Friction 2015- Book #1 Jack of Spades, Drawing Dead by Lee Brazil

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Book one in Lee Brazil’s Jack of Spades Series, Drawing Dead,

is releasing today, Feb. 15th.

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Pulp Friction 2015: Altered states
Jack of Spades #1,Drawing Dead  By Lee Brazil

About the book:

Genre: m/m paranormal serial
WC 16000,Heat Rating: 3

About Jack of Spades #1,Drawing DeadPF1-DDead-400x600

The world hasn’t been the same since the preternaturals came out of the closet. Much to many people’s chagrin, strange beings of all kinds are making life tricky for the “normals.”

Physics professor Dr. Sabine Brusilov has been obsessed with ghost hunting since he was eight years old.. He’s gathered a wealth of knowledge, but can’t produce a shred of scientific proof.

One hundred and seventy-five years of death haven’t done riverboat gambler Barton Montoire a damn bit of good. He’s still rash, impulsive, and prone to fits of temper and bouts of melancholy.

You’d think that when fate brought the two of them together, Bart’s lonely spirit would be calmed, and Sabine would have the proof his heart desires.

In a world where mythical beings are real, love is still the most elusive… and treacherous myth of them all.

EXCERPT

“Mrs. Carew, I apologize. Tell me about the paranormal problem again?” Sabine brushed back over his shoulder the dark hair that his mischievous boyfriend had loosened. Normally he kept it in a ponytail, a queue, as Bart quaintly called it, because it tickled his face when loose. He always ended up pushing it back and getting smudges on his glasses in the process.

He frowned at Bart’s glimmer…the sort of ripple in the air that reminded him of the way heat looked rising off a highway in the dead of summer. Sneaky bastard.

“It’s my new upstairs neighbors, Dr. Brusilov. Before they even moved in they installed dark blinds on their windows and I never see anyone coming out during the day. Not even at the mailboxes. But all night long… The thumping and the bumping and the shrieking. I’m sure they’re vampires up there murdering innocents.”

Sabine tapped his pencil on the desk and watched Bart coalesce into something resembling a solid shape in front of his office door. “Being a vampire is not illegal, and you’d have to have proof of murder, Mrs. Carew.” He explained as patiently as he could.

Six years earlier he’d investigated a haunting at Mrs. Carew’s church…and had received bi-weekly phone calls about hauntings ever since.

“Well, couldn’t you come out and investigate it?”

“That’s not the sort of paranormal I investigate, Mrs. Carew. Here at Dead Men’s Tales we only investigate hauntings.” He glanced at his watch. Thursdays were generally light, but tonight happened to be poker night, and as luck would have it, it was his turn to play host to the gathering.

“You mean ghosts, like at the church, right?”
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“Exactly, just ghosts.” His brows shot up and his lips twitched as Bart began an elaborate strip tease accompanied by high knee kicks and spins. The cancan had been popular with students when Bart was at university, nearly two hundred years earlier. It was Bart’s idea of risqué…and Sabine bit back his laugh.

“Those are real, too?”

“Yes,” he sighed, setting the pen down and rubbing his temple. “Ghosts, vampires, werewolves…you name it, I imagine it’s real.” The world had changed so much, people like Mrs. Carew who’d once been considered crackpots were thrown even more off balance. Learning that the world as you knew it was never really…well, the world as you knew it, had been devastating for some and inspirational for others.

The vampires had come out first…then the wolves.

Just Sabine’s luck that the supernatural beings he’d spent the last fifteen years trying to prove existed—scientifically and irrefutably—were still shy and in hiding. Except Bart. He glanced up at the semi-transparent and now fully nude ghost that had haunted him for the better part of the last decade. And Bart was just stubborn enough to refuse to share any relevant information with him.

“You know what, Mrs. Carew?” he straightened in his chair. “I’ll come by on my way home. Maybe if I just knock on the door and ask them to be a little quieter at night, it might help.”

“I’ll make cookies.” The elderly lady sounded delighted, and Sabine was glad he’d made the offer as he hung up the phone.

“You”—he narrowed a level glare at his boyfriend—“are incorrigible.”

Bart stopped his high knee kicks, put his hands on his hips, and stood, bits dangling, an indignant expression on his face though his dark eyes twinkled with mirth. “That is exactly what old Father Peter used to say.”

“The old sod was right! How could you distract me while Mrs. Carew was on the phone?”

Bart jiggled and thrust his hips, and his prick bobbed and twirled. “She’s a waste of time. The old bat’s crazy as a loon.”

“She’s lonely.” Sabine rose and went around to the front of his desk. Bart immediately flashed, then reappeared centimeters from Sabine, close enough that Sabine could feel him…a warm current of air that grew hotter as the passion that drew them together intensified. In his pocket, the gold watch grew warmer as well. “You remember what that’s like, don’t you?”

Bart bounced back, instantly reclothed in the dark jacket and trousers, the brocade vest and frilled shirt that he’d died in.

“Why do you have to keep bringing that up?”

“Because you’re remarkably intolerant of human needs for someone who…”

“Was alone at the bottom of the Mississippi for, what did you say? A hundred and seventy-five years? That’s right. It’s 2015 now, isn’t it? I hardly think the few paltry years your Mrs. Carew has been alone count for a pittance in a pisspot compared to that. I need your company. She can find her own.”

Sabine dug his hand into his jeans pocket and closed it into a fist around the gold pocket watch he’d found in Barton Montoire’s steamer trunk when he’d excavated it from the depths of the river more than a decade earlier. “I was going to take you with me, but given this attitude…” He pulled the watch from his pocket and set it on the desk.

“Don’t you…” Bart flashed again…appearing across the room, by the windows. A splinter of light disrupted his eyes… Sabine caught his breath.

Most of the time Bart was good-humored, fun, and a pleasure to have around. He was an educated man and an excellent companion. Other times…the handsome face could appear menacing, and this was one of those times.

“Don’t leave me here,” Bart repeated. This time he took the time to walk across the room to Sabine, and his body had solidified to the point where his boot heels actually made noise as they struck the tiled floor.

Sabine shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t trust you, not in this mood.”

He’d learned the hard way that Bart’s morality was highly questionable, whether that was because he was a gambler or a ghost was in dispute. Certainly, he’d been considered a criminal in his own day, and his death proved that integrity and honor were malleable concepts for him.

“I’m not going to do anything to your old lady.” Bart flickered, and he was so beyond control that in some reappearances, the gunshot wound that had torn apart his chest before he’d been thrown overboard from the Delta Queen was clearly visible, gory and dripping with blood.

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