October Fieldingpalooza Contests and Tour

It’s a busy time around here! October means FOUR new releases, and then a fifth release on November 1. To celebrate, a contest! Or really, multiple contests. Now, pay attention, because there’s a test at the end.

First off, we have three Rafflecopter giveaways. You can enter all three. If you comment, please specify which contest you’re commenting for. You can comment once for each if you like. 001This is one of the prizes: a tote bag filled with a T-shirt, swag, a surprise book of mine, and a bunch of bone-themed goodies. I’ll sign the bag if the winner wants me to, and I’ll ship anywhere.



Winners will be notified on November 1. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveawaya Rafflecopter giveaway

What are the new releases?

Brute in French on October 7


Bone Dry on October 10


“Standby” in the Stranded anthology on October 10

STRANDED-Final Cover

“The Dance” in the Bones anthology on October 27


The Festivus Miracle on November 1


And I’m doing a huge blog tour, so come visit these sites for interviews, trivia, and lots more. There’s another contest at the end!

On November 1, I will post a quiz. The answers to the quiz questions will be in all those guest posts–so it’s sort of a scavenger hunt. You’ll have one week to find the answers. Whoever gets the most answers correct wins one of those lovely bones swag bags, complete with t-shirt and goodies, plus a complete set of the Ennek trilogy in print (signed if you like), plus a $10 Dreamspinner gift certificate and a $10 Wayward Ink Publishing gift certificate. If there’s a tie, I’ll randomly choose a winner. So read all those guest posts–each one is different!–and keep an eye out for the end of tour quiz.

New release! “Standby” in Stranded anthology

They’ve been shipwrecked and abandoned.

Marooned and cast away.

And left helpless and high and dry.

But you should never underestimate the tenacity of the human heart…

STRANDED-cover preview size

Stories Included:

Craiving Stains by Alina Popescu

Trapped since birth in a sterile, hospital-like apartment, Wynn longs to break free to experience the world.

Enter Doyle.

But is Doyle real, or is he just a figment of Wynn’s imagination?

Say Cheese by Michael P. Thomas

Sitcom sensation Felix Medrano, America’s Sweetheart, throws a star-studded surprise party for his sweetheart, beanpole barkeep Grover Shepherd.

It’s a smash, save for one detail: Shep is a no-show.

Who’d have thought it would be so hard to pop the question?

Standby by Kim Fielding

Who’d have thought being stranded at the airport could possibly have some long term benefits?

Certainly not Tom.

But then he hadn’t bargained on meeting Rafael…

The Raider by Asta Idonea

The gods truly do work in mysterious ways as Thorstein found out when he was left for dead on the battle field of a foreign land.

The Buckle by Rob Colton

One ditching and one rescue later, Hayden discovers the use of a telephone isn’t the only offer that’s on the table…

Ari by Nephylim

Benji and Ari have spent their lives feeling lost and alone, stranded between genders.

Can they help each other stop unravelling?

Opposites Attract by Lily G. Blunt

Chris and Andreas are opposites in character.

Both fear the other wants to move on.

Can being stranded on a mountainside resolve the doubt that is threatening to tear them apart?

Out of Order by Eric Gober

Rob was the one who got away.

Trent stumbles upon him during a trip to San Francisco…

Right before a deadly earthquake…

Dating for Deafies by Nikka Michaels

If Evan York keeps hiding from the world behind his laptop he might miss out on something special.

Will he find the courage?

One Snowy Night by Louise Lyons

One snowy night, Keith Brambles learns that appearances can be deceptive.

The Climb by kirifox

Jessie went camping with friends expecting to have some fun and maybe drink a little beer.

Instead, he found his perfect man…

but is he real or just a dream?

Did You Leave Any for Me by Sarah Hayes

Two ex-lovers, one hotel room, and one random act of technology.

Will they fall out or fall back in love?

Sweetness and Strength by JN Olsen

Miles makes one seemingly small and inconsequential decision that turns out to be not so small and inconsequential after all.

Pre-order now!

Get your copy of Stranded by pre-ordering it on the WIP website.

Please welcome Kay Walker!

AllInADaysWork blog  tour  banner



Hi there! I’m Kay Walker, and I’m very thrilled to be here to discuss an anthology I’ve had the privilege to be a part of.  Thanks so much to Kim Fielding for hosting me today!


Earlier in the year, a group of writers via Bru Baker on Twitter had a conversation about using the theme of ‘workplace’ for writing short stories. We all went our own separate ways to create a variety of unique shorts based on that theme, and then put them together as an anthology.  Lucky for us Dreamspinner liked what we came up with!  Below is a little bit about the anthology All in a Day’s Work, and my own story called Unmasked, including an excerpt.



All in a Day’s Work blurb:


A guy’s got to make a living. He can do it the conventional way—by selling cars, scooping ice cream, or delivering sandwiches—or he can earn his money as a spy, a historical interpreter, or the host of a myth-busting television show. Whether the men in this anthology are working hard to build their own business or performing in drag at a dance hall, every day has the potential for surprises and the chance to satisfy their lust or maybe find something more permanent. For the guys in these stories, what’s all in a day’s work might be anything but what they expected.

Ice Cream Dreams by Shae Connor My OTP by Bru Baker The Bet by Holly O. Hale Not Quite 1776 by Therese Woodson Extra Mayo by Henrietta Clarke Short Timer by Jenni Michaels Dance Hall Days by Amy Jo Cousins Unmasked by Kay Walker





Unmasked summary:


In the near future, the line between the poor and the Uppers—the cruel and greedy rich—is sharper than ever. Raven’s work as a spy is to maintain the public persona of a member of high society while teaming up with his tech handler, codename Glitch, to electronically steal from the rich and redirect resources to the poor. They’ve set their sights on avaricious Upper Jakinda Diaz, who Raven has been studying for months. After a close call on the mission, Raven returns to their safe house full of restless energy. Both Raven and Glitch need to relieve the stress of their dangerous careers in espionage and they find that with each other.


Unmasked excerpt:


All clear, Magpie,” Glitch said through the communicator.

Raven growled with a little annoyance. “Raven. It’s Raven. We’re in the middle of a mission. Can’t you use the codename you’re supposed to?”

Sure thing, Toucan,” Glitch said easily, and Raven rolled his eyes. “Speaking of the mission, now is not the time to complain. You’ve got work to do.”

We’ve got work to do,” Raven stressed.

“True. That being said, digital is on loop. Funny word, isn’t it? Loop. It just means that it will only record a blank corridor, no matter who finds themself down it. Why would you call it a loop? Why not just a—constant play, or something?”

“Who’s wasting time?” Raven asked, though it came out a bit more fond than he meant. “You’re the techie, not me.” Raven let himself out of the stall. The tension and frown had melted away, the act of Marcus being unsettled and needing to excuse himself completely gone. Raven was fine. More than fine. He was about to embark on the task behind his whole reason for being at this stupid event.

Coast is clear,” Glitch said again, so Raven left the restroom and continued down the corridor, going farther and farther away from the main lobby. “Next door to your left is the stairwell. Go up three flights.

Raven pulled open the door with no problems; Glitch had unlocked them remotely so Raven wouldn’t have to chip-swipe in. He couldn’t leave a trail.



All in a Day’s Work anthology available from Dreamspinner Press: ebook || paperback



Kay Walker’s Bio: Kay Walker was born and raised on the Canadian Prairies. Growing up in a small, rural town, books not only helped to pass the time but also became a beloved form of entertainment. Reading opened up the world in ways Kay could only dream about. And dream she did! Kay now loves trying to create characters, plots, and entire worlds of her own in hopes to entertain others.

In addition to reading and writing, Kay likes watching movies and television shows—especially anything supernatural, sci-fi, LGBTQA, or with strong female characters. She enjoys traveling, spending time with friends and family, and tries to be buddies with the elliptical. (They don’t always get along.)

Twitter: @KayWalkerWrites

Website: http://kaywalkerwrites.com/

E-mail: kay.walker.writes@gmail.com


Banned Books

As you may know, we’re in the middle of National Banned Books Week. You can see the list of most-challenged books here.

In addition to being an author, I’m also a parent. My kids are 11 and almost-15, and they’re both avid readers. My younger one, who favors fantasies, has almost exhausted her school library’s supply, leading the librarian to give her lists of books to check out from the county library instead. My older daughter is currently re-reading To Kill a Mockingbird and has just discovered Love in the Time of Cholera, which she’s raving about. She also loves Stephen King. Needless to say, this makes my heart sing.

I would never try to prohibit my kids from reading a book. To be sure, I’ve gently discouraged both of them from picking up my books for a couple more years because I think–especially for the 11-year-old–some of my work is too explicit. And here’s the thing: neither of them has argued with me about this. And although my books are readily available around the house and on our Kindles, neither of the girls has tried to read them (except the Ennek series, which my older daughter has read). I think this is because kids, like adults, will naturally censor themselves. If something makes them uncomfortable, they probably won’t read it.

I also think parents can discuss difficult book topics with their kids. For instance, my older daughter and I have had some great discussions about racism and the justice system, thanks to Harper Lee.

What it comes down to in the end is that precious few children have ever been harmed by reading a book–but a whole lot of people have been harmed by not reading.


Please welcome Taylin Clavelli

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Writing M/M fiction as a female author

As a female writing all male characters, I’ve been asked the question why, several times.

On a personal note, I have been married for 24 years, and for the majority of that time I have worked in a male dominated environment. I am also a practicing martial artist, which again, is a male dominated sport. So I’m familiar with the way men speak, act and think. When it comes to writing, regardless of gender, emotions are emotions. If I get injured, I experience the same pain as a man. At the other end of the scale, when I am happy, the same elation runs through my body.

The ability to think of an adventure and transfer it to the page—well, that all depends on the artistic nature of the author, and gender doesn’t enter into the equation. On that occasion, my style would differ from another woman’s as much as it would a man’s. As far as the intimate sexual details are concerned, I’m old enough to know the euphoria accompanied with the act as well as a few other details which I won’t go into. This leaves the differences between m/m loving as opposed to f/f or m/f loving. Well, apart from the fact that I truly enjoy my research, I have some friends who are happy to be frank, open, and honest with me, plus I am thankful for my imagination!!!

So, in the end, I guess it comes down to the fact that I simply enjoy writing stories where the main characters are in an all-male relationship. I don’t get jealous about wanting to be the woman in the stories, and I can concentrate on the adventure itself. And I get double the fun ‘playing’ with two cocks instead of one.

The community of LGBT writers, too, is so supportive; it’s a privilege to know them. They also have one hell of a sense of humor, and when we get together, I split my sides laughing. In their company is a good place to be.

I only have one complaint about writing m/m, and I’m sure authors of f/f literature encounter the same. When some people, thankfully not all, discover I write m/m they automatically think it’s porn on a page. This truly irks me. I changed many of my reading habits over to m/m because I found the stories so much more interesting. Sexual interaction in an m/m adventure is there for exactly the same reason as m/f fiction – it’s there to enhance the story not make it. Yet no one bats an eye when the coupling characters are m/f. Some of my readers have been brought to tears (in a good way) at my stories, and not all of them have explicit sexual content.


Born in the wrong time…

In 1875 Dakota, Sheriff Jamie Carter has to hide his interest in men, even from his gutsy twin sister, Anna. On a good day, the truth can mean a bullet between the eyes, and on a bad, one in the back.

A man on a mission…

Jamie leaves Anna in charge of Blackrock and he hits the bounty hunting trail, along with his faithful equine companion, Houston. Five territories, scores of ‘Wanted’ posters, and many bullets later, his path unexpectedly converges with that of enigmatic loner, Kit Brooks.

Two men with one soul…

Will the smoldering fire between them rage into an inferno and break down protective barriers, allowing them to find love? Or will it separate and kill them?

Beneath Dakota skies…

Jamie and Kit’s story is a sweeping saga of cowboys, Indians, persistent broads, and vengeful villains, where the cowboys aren’t always the good guys, and love can’t be taken for granted.

Book trailer:


Buy the book:

WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/dakota-skies/

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NHPMJ7C/

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00NHPMJ7C/

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dakota-skies-taylin-clavelli/1120358729?ean=9781925222036

About the author:

Taylin Clavelli lives in the United Kingdom, about 15 miles south of Birmingham, and a short journey from the world famous Cadbury’s Chocolate factory. She’s married with children and loves her family with all her heart.

Her love of books has been a long standing affair, with Taylin liking nothing better than to lose herself in an imaginary world.

Until she met Lily Velden, she never considered trying her hand at writing. However, after talking ideas, Lily encouraged her to put pen to paper—or rather, fingers to keyboard. Since, with a few virtual kicks in the right place, she hasn’t stopped. Her confidence eventually led to her writing an original work for submission.

Her first published work was Boys, Toys, and Carpet Fitters, developed for the Dreamspinner Press Anthology – Don’t Try This At Home.

Now she absolutely adores immersing herself into the characters she creates, and transferring the pictures in her brain to paper, finding it liberating, therapeutic, and wonderful.

Outside of writing, her interests include; martial arts (she’s a 2nd Degree Black Belt in Taekwon-do), horse-riding, all of which facilitates her love of a wide variety of movies. Her action heroes include Jet Li and Tony Jaa—finding the dedication these men have for their art combined with their skill both amazing and a privilege to watch. If pressed, she’ll admit to thinking that the screen entrance of Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean – Curse of the Black Pearl, and Shadowfax in LOTR, to be the greatest screen entrances ever. Her all-time favorite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.

The simple things in life that make her day, putting a smile on her face are:

Laughter – especially that of her children.

The smell of lasagna cooking – it makes her mouth salivate.

The dawn chorus – no symphony ever written can beat the waking greetings of the birds.

Social links:

Website: http://www.taylinclavelli.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005234535413

Twitter: https://twitter.com/taylinclavelli



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It’s called karma

I flew to Seattle this weekend for GRNW. The conference was fantastic. Got to hang out with some great people and had a lot of fun. I’m pretty sure that if she wanted to, Tracy Timmons-Gray could take over the world. I gave away a lot of unicorn ducks.

018But first I had to get to Seattle, which meant driving to Sacramento and getting on a plane. it’s a short flight–only about 90 minutes. Perfect for reading the newest installment in Amy Lane’s serial novel, Beneath the Stain. But then these two ladies sat next to me and proceeded to chat nonstop with each other, very loudly, about Jesus. Then we landed and had to spend 30 minutes or so waiting for our gate to clear, at which point the ladies’ loud conversation turned to ex-husbands and their gardens, and how their pansies miss them but they don’t get along with their oleander. They did voices for the flowers. I wanted to open the emergency exit and boot them out, or at least read aloud from a particularly juicy part of Amy’s book. But I am a grown-up. So instead I complained about them on Facebook.

And then I got to Seattle and had a lovely time. Most of the conference was in the main branch of the public library, which is a really cool building. I had a view of it from my hotel too.


And it’s a nice hotel. You can borrow a goldfish to keep you company (I didn’t, but it’s nice to know there’s an option). But I am so annoyed when hotels pile on decorative throw pillows, which are unhygienic and will only require removal, and I will probably trip on them if I get up in the middle of the night.

002But I recovered from my slight pillow-related trauma, in part because the lovely Andrea Speed discovered that the café across the street has margarita gelato. With tequila in it.


And the weather was gorgeous and I met all sorts of fun people, and I generally had a great time. On Sunday I even got to sleep in and then have a nice walk around downtown.

So then I headed back to the airport–congratulating myself for avoiding the people on their way to the Seahawks-Broncos game–and I checked in, and I had some lunch and walked some more, because I really do try to get 10,000 steps each day.

And it was time to get on the plane so I lined up. I was spacing out when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned and who did I see? The Jesus ladies. “Hey!” said one of them. “We shared a plane on the way here!”

Yes. Yes, we did.

Not only that, but they ended up sitting one row in front of me, where they talked Bible stories the entire way. Nonstop and loudly, although at least I couldn’t hear them as well this time. And I’m sure this wasn’t coincidence. It was my karma for complaining.

As we deplaned, I noticed that the lady who’d sat next to them on this trip was glaring at them. I wonder if she complained on Facebook. I wonder how karma will bite her on the ass if she did.

On the good side, the gate agent in Seattle for Virgin America looks like Robert Pattinson and, although he was in Washington state, he did not sparkle. At least, I don’t think so.020


(PS–When I got home, I had news that Brute releases in French on October 7. Merveilleux! That means I have 5 releases within less than 30 days. It’s a Fieldingpalooza!)

How to Get Boned

Tsk tsk. Get your mind out of the gutter!

BoneDry_postcard_front_DSPAs it turns out, October is a very bony month. On October 10, the 3rd book in my Bones series, Bone Dry, releases. Not only can you preorder it now, but you can preorder the paperback at 35% off through September 21. And if you’re going to GRL, you can use the code GRL2014, and DSP will ship the book to GRL for you for free, and I can sign it for you there.


Bones_Cover6But also! On October 27, the second book in the Gothika series will release. It contains voodoo-themed novellas by me, Eli Easton, Jamie Fessenden, and B.G. Thomas. It’s called Bones.

So you see? A bony month.




To celebrate, I’ve had a few tote bags printed up with those terrific covers. I’ve filled the bags with a matching T-shirt plus lots of bones-themed swag and surprises. I’ll be giving a couple of these bags away during contests in October, as part of a big blog tour.


I’ll be bringing a couple of these bags to GRNW this weekend. They’ll go to the first people who request them.

And I’ll be bringing a few to GRL in October. The question is, how should I decide who gets them. A contest beforehand on my blog or FB or Twitter? First come, first served? Give ’em to the first people who bring me Bone Dry to sign? I can’t decide!!

Please help me by leaving a comment below, telling me how I should distribute the bags at GRL.

(I’ll have lots of other swag too, including unicorn rubber ducks, bone candy, and free stories.)



If you’ve read my blog entries before, you’ve undoubtedly surmised that I love to travel. When I do, I pick up souvenirs. I have a few special themes, such as my collection of children’s books in other languages, and I have a tendency to buy earrings.

But one of my favorite things to snag is a small piece of artwork depicting the place. Here are a few of my favorites:

004005006 From left to right, these come from Mostar (which inspired The Pillar), Zagreb, Ljubljana, and Paris. The one from Mostar is handmade in copper.

009010 The items in the grouping on the left come from St. Martin (hey! I have a story out in December called “Saint Martin’s Day”!), Warsaw, and San Francisco, and the one on the right is from Prague.

011013 These come from two separate trips to London. The first one shows the city in 1572; the other is a modern-day panorama of the Thames.

012 This is a collection of photos of pointy things from my first trip to Europe. They’re from Germany and London.

014 While photos and inexpensive art make great souvenirs–easy to schlep!–postcards are great too. This is one of my office walls.

008007 I occasionally go for pieces that aren’t quite as flat and easy to carry. The raven’s from the Grand Canyon and the dish is, of course, from Murano.

And sometimes souvenirs come of neccesity. I have a pair of pajamas I bought in Barcelona after Air France lost my suitcase for a day and a half. I have a couple of sweatshirts from underdressed visits to the mountains and the coast. And I have this watch, which I bought in Trieste, Italy.


It’s not an Italian watch–it’s actually a Swatch. But I’d been living in Croatia for 4 months at that point, my Timex battery had gone dead, and I’d given up on finding someone in Zagreb who could replace it. When we took a day trip to Trieste–my grandfather’s birthplace–I bought a new watch. I wear it daily, and it always reminds me sweetly of that day.

My daughter collects snowglobes. She has dozens and dozens of them. What are some of your favorite souvenirs?

Please welcome Lex Chase!

 Americana Fairy Tale 
(Fairy Tales of the Open Road #1)
Lex Chase

Modern fairy-tale princess Taylor Hatfield has problems. One: He’s a guy. Two: His perfect brother Atticus is the reincarnation of Snow White. Three: Taylor has no idea which princess he is supposed to be. Four: Taylor just left his prince (a girl) at the altar. Despite his enchanted lineage, Taylor is desperate to find his Happily Ever After away from magic, witches, and stuffy traditions. Regrettably, destiny has other plans for him. Dammit.
When word reaches Taylor that Idi the Witchking has captured Atticus, Taylor is determined to save his brother. He enlists the help of rakish and insufferable Corentin Devereaux, likewise of enchanted lineage. A malicious spell sends Taylor and Corentin on a road trip through the kitschy nostalgia of roadside Americana. To save Atticus, they must solve the puzzles put forth by Idi the Witchking. As they struggle, Taylor and Corentin’s volatile partnership sparks a flash of something more. But princesses have many enemies, and Taylor must keep his wits about him because there’s nothing worse than losing your heart… or your head.
Available to purchase 


“I’m getting a shower,” Taylor said and quickly shuffled into the
bathroom. In the silence, Taylor pressed his back to the door and slid to the
floor. He clamped both hands around the crotch of his shorts and hissed through
clenched teeth, “Stop, stop, stop, please, stop.”
He had to stop thinking
about his dream. And thinking about Corentin in that way. Corentin wasn’t even
his type! And Corentin’s type was clearly
not a raging homo-sheckshual. By all of Taylor’s understanding, Corentin’s breed
of redneck was of the misogynistic racist variety. Taylor paused. Was he just
telling himself that? Taylor mentally felt around the edges of the dream. He
flinched with the dirty feeling.
Shower. He needed a shower. Now.
He picked himself up off the floor, then staggered to the tub. The
enamel had seen better days, with that lovely rusty ring around it. The shower
curtain seemed to be a repository for all assorted natures of DNA. Taylor
gingerly touched it in an effort to move it just out of the way enough to turn
the faucet. Scuffed up and mottled with rust, even the faucet made him wince.
He ripped off a sheaf of cheap toilet paper to use to turn the faucet on. First
the water belched into the tub, then after a few rude bubbling gurgles, ran in
a steady stream. It wasn’t particularly warm, however. Taylor surmised he
didn’t really need a hot shower anyway.
He disrobed, dropping his clothes in a heap on the floor. But on
second consideration, he didn’t have anything else to change into. What he had
on his back was it. Like his cum-stained cargo shorts. Yuck. He scooped his clothes off the floor and hung up his shirt on
the towel rack. He’d have to do something about his shorts, because they’d
smell and get uncomfortably crusty. He chuckled. He would never have predicted
how contentious he’d become about cleanliness until he only had one change of
clothes for the foreseeable future.
As the tub faucet ran to get some marginable level of lukewarm, he
cranked the faucet in the sink. He let the water run over the crotch of his new
shorts and scrubbed them as best he could with the questionable cracked soap
Corentin knocked once on the door. “Come on, man. Gotta pee.”
“Hold your horses,” Taylor huffed. “Let me get in the shower first.
Great Storyteller Almighty.”
Taylor hustled and wrung out his shorts. He hung them also on the
towel rack and finally hopped into the shower before poor pitiful Corentin
could have an accident on the floor. Some self-reliant huntsman he was.
Couldn’t he go out back and take a piss on a tree? Of course, there would
likely need to be some nature of tree on the premises.
Taylor jerked the curtain across the tub for privacy and instantly
regretted taking a fistful of it in such haste. “Okay! It’s safe.”
“I heard princesses were prissy, but I didn’t think it applied to
male princesses,” Corentin said as he walked in.
Taylor could see the outline of his body through the haze of the
shower curtain. He pushed himself back against the far wall to gain some
distance. A small gap remained between the curtain and the shower wall, and he
carefully peeked. With a familiar clanking of a belt buckle followed by a
zipper, Taylor instead sent his gaze upward to Corentin’s face and his bare
shoulders. Corentin had done away with his shirt, and Taylor’s face heated with
the view. Corentin was lean, like a panther, his tattooed skin pulled tight
over his biceps and hard abs. He finished, flushed, and turned away to zip his
pants. Taylor pressed his fingers to his lips at the sight of the rise of Corentin’s
tight rear as he shifted to the sink and washed his hands.
He studied himself in the mirror while Taylor stared through the
shower curtain.
Corentin swung open the door and called behind him, “Don’t use all
the hot water.”
“O-oh-okay,” Taylor croaked, his face hot from gawking.
The door shut with a click, and Taylor sighed with the relief. He looked down at himself in
disappointment. Taylor was filthy from dirt, sweat, and whatever else was
lurking in Corentin’s disgusting truck. He turned, reaching for the cracked
soap bar. The blacked grooves in the soap made him reconsider. He reached for
the mini Johnson & Johnson shampoo bottle and uncapped it. After a careful
sniff, he tried to make sure it wasn’t rancid and questioned if it was possible
for shampoo to go rancid. Figuring he would chance it, he scrubbed himself down
with the terrible No More Tears formula.
He breathed one more time, trying to cope with the lukewarm water,
and then decided it was time to face the reality of a nasty motel room with a
man he didn’t trust who made him blush. He shut off the water and carefully
maneuvered out of the shower without touching the petri dish that served as a
Taylor considered his clothes. His shirt could use airing out, and
his shorts were a definite no. His only option was a towel around the waist. He
didn’t even like that option in high
, let alone in the middle of nowhere with the current company. Ringo
was there, though. That made it better. Ringo would save him.
Covering himself, Taylor took a breath. On a mental count of three,
he turned the doorknob.
And the chill of the overworked window unit hit him square in the
bare chest.
Fuck,” Taylor gasped and
scuttled to the bed. He immediately wrapped himself in the threadbare blanket,
which didn’t help at all. He had a string of curses on his tongue when he
finally glanced up and saw Corentin.
More specifically, saw Corentin’s tattooed torso.
Corentin, on the other hand, busied himself with making notes in
his monstrosity of a book. His brow would furrow every time he underlined
something with a determined gesture across the page. He seemed not to notice
Taylor’s open staring at the intricate black ink of an oak tree drawn in the
style of Gustave Doré. The trunk of the tree was a full sleeve with the roots
growing from Corentin’s left wrist, and at his shoulder, the branches twisted
in a windblown manner across his collarbone, shoulder blade, and a few branches
even curled at the base of his neck.
Taylor swallowed. At least it explained why Corentin was so covered
up for June weather. But something was strange about the tattoo. There were
seven boughs, but only one had leaves.
Corentin kept making notes and didn’t look up. His brow furrowed
into an even angrier contortion, and he wrote faster. When he apparently ran
out of space, he flipped his book to sit horizontally and wrote in tiny print
in the margins. He hesitated, tapping his pen on the paper.
Taylor pulled the blanket higher on his shoulders. The steam from
his body captured under the blanket helped in making the chill of the room
Corentin scribbled again in his book. He frowned and scribbled in a
repeated gesture. He shook his pen with a flick of the wrist and tried again.
He grunted and threw the pen. “Fuck,” he said and went fishing in his messenger
bag. He feverishly reached around, looked in, and then reached around again. He
puffed a sigh and upturned the bag onto the carpet.
A palm sized bottle of liquid bounced across the floor and Corentin
scrambled to snatch it midtumble. He glanced at Taylor and offered a smile.
“Hand sanitizer. Can’t go anywhere without it.” He quickly shoved the bottle
into a side pocket of his bag.
Taylor said nothing, merely watching the bizarre display as
Corentin poked through the crumpled receipts, hair ties, old cracker wrappers,
and various unidentifiable crumbs and wadded-up trash. He also flipped through a
collection of condoms in shiny magenta wrappers and printed with hearts and
lips. Taylor tightened his grip on the comforter and his face heated. Well, at
least they were cherry flavored or something?
Corentin shook the bag again, and Taylor remained silent.
As a roll of duct tape tumbled out.
And then zip ties.
Taylor’s eyes snapped wide. Corentin had fucking huntsman death
tools on him at all times. He shivered and scooted back on the bed. He judged
the distance from the bed to the door in case he needed to run at a moment’s
notice. Obviously a naked guy running down the interstate would get some
attention. But he hadn’t seen any cars on the interstate since they ended up
here. He nibbled at his lip. Maybe if he stole Corentin’s truck? That seemed
like a good idea.
“Ah!” Corentin said, clearly relieved he apparently found a pen,
and ignored the zip ties and duct tape. He resumed his furious scribbling.

About the Author

Lex Chase once heard Stephen King say in a commercial, “We’re all going to die, I’m just trying to make it a little more interesting.” She knew then she wanted to make the world a little more interesting too. 

Weaving tales of cinematic, sweeping adventure and epic love—and depending on how she feels that day—Lex sprinkles in high-speed chases, shower scenes, and more explosions than a Hollywood blockbuster. She loves tales of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. She believes if you’re going to going to march into the depths of hell, it better be beside the one you love. 

Lex is a pop culture diva and her DVR is constantly backlogged. She wouldn’t last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse and has nightmares about refusing to leave her cats behind. She is incredibly sentimental, to the point that she gets choked up at holiday commercials. But like the lovers driven to extreme measures to get home for the holidays, Lex believes everyone deserves a happy ending. 

Lex also has a knack for sarcasm, never takes herself seriously, and has been nicknamed “The Next Alan Moore” by her friends for all the pain and suffering she inflicts on her characters. She is a Damned Yankee hailing from the frozen backwoods of Maine now residing in the burbs of Northwest Florida, where it could be 80F and she’d still be a popsicle. 

She is grateful for and humbled by all the readers. She knows very well she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them and welcomes feedback.

You can find Lex at



Presented By

I got the blues….

I don’t really. But I was doing some cleanup in my study the other day, which means I was sifting through geological layers of magazines, children’s artwork and report cards, papers that seemed vitally important six years ago, etc. And I found these lyrics my husband and I wrote a while back.

Suburban Middle-Class Blues

My Lexus done broke down
Cleaning the pool is a chore
Starbucks is crowded and
My iPhone don’t work no more

I got the blues
I got suburban, middle-class blues
I got a 401k
Don’t mean I can’t have the blues

I just stepped on a Lego
Scraped up dried-up fruit snack
Today’s my turn to drive carpool and
One kid puked in the back

Telemarketers callin’
‘Bout lower interest rates
Tween daughter is textin’ boys and
Pretty soon she’ll want dates

Got five appointments this week
Dentists, doctors, et al
And if I want a new pair of walking shoes
I’ll have to go to the mall

Pizza boy can’t get here
In thirty minutes or less
So I keep goin’ by drive-through and
My waistline is a mess

Feel free to add your own stanzas in the comments….