* * * *
Hello, VJ! Thank you for having me on your blog to share my boys with you and your readers.
I currently have 2 M/M Romantic fiction works published with eXtasy Books, but today I'd like to focus on Seeing Red.
This is the cruel reality for Gabriel “Red” Thatcher, convicted at age nineteen for the
murder of his father. Now twenty-five and eight months out of prison, Red has nothing to his name and no one to help him through the horrifying memories of his past.
Then he meets Silo Winters, a man so much like him yet so different that it drives Red crazy. How could someone who went through the same trauma he did in prison still look at life so cheerfully? And though Silo tries to show Red that life after hardship isn’t bleak and meaningless, Red finds it difficult after all he’s been through to let anyone in.
Excerpt:
“Silo?” I struggled with a bag full of marinara-oozing subs through the door, assuming Silo was asleep somewhere when he didn’t come help me. Of course I didn’t expect “somewhere” to be on the floor in front of the TV. I caught the flash of a spaceship zipping across the screen and smiled.
On my way to the kitchen to set down the bags and take off my coat, I realized I owed Loretta a favor and cringed. She’d been nice enough to take me to the sub place after my shift, and to top it off, she drove me home, too. She’d probably heard me complaining to myself about how I’d have to reheat the subs after the bus ride home. Well, I felt glad regardless. Food always tasted best fresh.
“Gabriel?”
What? I poked my head back into the parlor, an eyebrow raised. “Silo?” When he didn’t answer, I tiptoed over to him and checked his face. His eyes weren’t open, and his mouth slacked a bit in a quiet snore. Drool trickled out of the corner of his mouth, soaking a blotch into his shirt. I couldn’t exactly call him cute like that, but if I had a camera I would’ve taken a picture.
The rest of Silo looked just as disheveled as his face. He wore a pair of flannel pajama pants, unbuttoned to expose the crotch of his rather tight black briefs. Aside from those, he wore a plain red T-shirt, twisted around his waist so his belly stuck out. Stupid idiot would probably catch a cold like that.
A bit ruefully, I shook his shoulder. He struggled with my grip for a bit before he rolled over on his side and sat upright.
“Red?” His eyes didn’t seem to want to follow his brain’s coordination as he looked up at me with them closed. I waited until he cracked them open with a wince and smiled.
“Hey.” I pointed behind me to the bags of food I’d set down.“I brought subs.”
Following his sense of smell, he bumbled to his feet and into the kitchen after me. “You are amazing. I’m…” He yawned. “So hungry.”
“You look more tired than hungry.”
“I was until you woke me up. Now that I smell those subs, I’m starving.”
“Sorry for waking you.”
“Don’t apologize! I didn’t feel like cooking tonight, so this is bliss.”
I laughed, but I felt a bit guilty. Given his expertise, Silo usually cooked dinner. It wasn’t like I couldn’t or didn’t know how, but Silo knew his way around food like Ben Bailey knew his way around the streets of New York City. Thanks to Silo, I’ve become addicted to good food and game shows like Cash Cab. We couldn’t watch Wheel of Fortune without it turning into a competition.
Silo snatched the bag from me and dug through it like a kid in a candy store, an equally childish smile stretched across his face.
“Ooh! Meatball subs! You are a god.”
“A favorite of yours or something?”
“Meat is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Could you grab me a cola out of the fridge?”
“Yeah, sure. Can I have one?” I wasn’t the caffeine junkie Silo was, so when there was soda in the fridge, it was because he’d bought it.
“What have I told you? I don’t care what you use besides my toothbrush and my razor. We live together—what’s mine is yours and all that jazz.” He caught his cola as I slid it across the table, popped it open, and took a long gulp. “Get it?”
“Yeah…” I did get it, but understanding didn’t make me feel any more at ease. More and more every day Silo was burrowing down, making a home of the apartment that was supposed to be his temporary fix. Did that mean he wanted to stay? It’s wasn’t like I wanted him to leave, but… Would he just up and haul ass one day while I was at work? Like we’d never happened? Would he eventually want to go back to his old life, the one he’d lost three years ago? After all, living with a murderer only sounds good as long as you’re desperate.
*****
A little about me:
I’m in my 20s, a lover of books and art, and have a fascination for lizards and other small critters that borders on an obsession. Which is probably why I already own 3 and have to actively stop myself from getting more.
I began writing because I always loved the idea that words can create entire universes and characters from nothing but a blank page and an idea. Like one day you have an empty Word document and then in as little as a few minutes--boom! You just created a snarky art school graduate with purple hair whose blood may actually be 90% coffee.
I write erotic Male/Male romance. My books focus on realistic life topics--stuff everyday people go through and struggle with. I like when we as readers can feel connected to the characters we’re reading about. When we can understand their feelings and then suddenly they become truly human.
You can find me and my books and some reviews on my website or Goodreads!
No comments:
Post a Comment