Tuesday, March 27, 2012

An Update on Wade Kelly's writing :)

Hello all,

Since the last time I blogged for AMR I still have not published another book to talk about. Sorry :( But never fear, it is in the works! )

In the meantime, When Love is Not Enough is the current Book Of The Month for the M/M reading group on Goodreads.com. It has 109 ratings (  5 stars (60)  |  4 stars (27)  |  3 stars (12)  |  2 stars (8)  |  1 star (1)) and gets reviews like:

Kade rated it 5 of 5 stars
Oh Jimmy! God how I loved him and his spirit. God he was such a sweet, caring guy. This is a BEAUTIFUL story and gods I didn't know how I was gonna survive it. The reason for the suicide is heartbreaking and I won't lie you will fall in love with Jimmy and your heart will bleed for him. etc...
Absynthe rated it 5 of 5 stars
Shelves: first-timem-mromance
Heartbreaking and wrenching. A beautiful story, but painful. Definitely worth the read! etc
SIMPLY STUNNING! From beginning to finish, When Love Is Not Enough, is truly a special story that will touch your heart! etc...
Mika Milette rated it 5 of 5 stars
Shelves: bittersweetfaves
I laughed...I cried...and by the end, I was smiling. This is a beautiful bittersweet story. 

And loads more. I couldn't be more pleased by the way it has been received by my readers. My regret is that the sequel is still not published. I am working on it. One "Beta" reader has gotten back to me and has found very little wrong with it. I ramble (shocker) here and there and we are going to clean that up, but all in all I think she loves it. It WILL be published, you and I simply need to be patient.
I am also working on a sarcastic comedy about college students. It is up to 60k. YAY! I have high hopes for that one, although it is completely different from anything else I've written.
My stuff was at the Rainbow Book fair and I here things there went well. Several people apparently HAD read my book!  YAY.
I blog regularly on Goodreads so if you want to keep up with what happens each week, hop over there!
Thanks to you all for stopping by. I'm sorry there isn't more interesting information to give you at this time.  But I'll keep you posted!



JIMMY walked down the country lane, looking at the surrounding fields and farms. A lot of corn was planted here. The state was known for sweet corn. He liked corn. It was great on the grill with barbecued chicken, or better yet—crabs! He loved steamed crabs the way the little shop around the corner made them. Loads of Old Bay made anything taste good. He remembered eating crabs in Massachusetts once, when he was a kid. The restaurant boiled them. Yuck! No flavor at all. Blue crabs were awesome steamed with Old Bay, a little vinegar, and sometimes beer. He licked his lips, thinking how yummy they would taste right now. If he only had a couple of bucks. His pocket produced lint upon inspection, so he kicked a rock and just kept walking.

He turned left onto the next crossroad and followed its winding path through the trees and cornfields. As he passed a dirt driveway on his left, Jimmy paused. Dirt driveways sometimes led to abandoned houses or hunting shacks. His eyebrow shot up. He was feeling rather inquisitive and decided to check it out.

The driveway was rutted and obviously rarely used. Grass grew in the center, at least a foot tall. No one could have driven up here lately unless they had four-wheel drive. The forest on both sides got thicker, obscuring his view. The birds in the trees were singing and chirping happily, so Jimmy wasn’t bothered to be so completely isolated. Quiet always accompanied danger in the woods, like a precursor. Silent birds meant something was wrong. It was the same as growling dogs in the house at night. He felt safe when the dog was sleeping soundly, and now while the birds were chirping.

Something glinted through the hemlocks and oaks, and Jimmy stopped. Water? He could swear it was sun reflecting off of a pond. What a great place to explore! A few more feet and he noticed an overgrown path heading in that direction. He took it, and in five minutes Jimmy found the path opened up to reveal a hidden paradise. “Paradise” because it felt like it was solely his. It was a huge pond, surrounded by hemlocks and sycamores, a willow tree and a few redbuds, with just enough grass to lie back and enjoy the view of blue skies above.

He was about to walk to the water’s edge when a voice from his right stayed him. “Who are you?”

Jimmy jumped. He looked to the person seated on the grass and stuttered, “Um, I, m-my name’s J-Jim.”

“This is private property, you know,” the boy said, glaring at Jimmy from underneath his shaggy black hair.

“Oh, I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass.” His dad’s warning flashed through his mind. Did this guy have a gun? He certainly looked scary.

The kid, dressed all in black, got up and walked over to Jimmy. “I don’t care.” He shrugged. “It’s not my property. I’m here illegally too. Got a light?” He took out a cigarette and tapped the butt on the pack.

“No.” Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

“You’re better off. I wish I never stole my mom’s cigs when I was eleven. It’s a bad habit to get into.” The kid’s expression lightened and Jimmy felt much less threatened. “So, what’s your name again?”

“Jim. I don’t mean to bother you. I can leave.”

He gave Jimmy the once-over. “No, it’s okay. You look all right.” The boy tucked his cigarettes back into his tight black jeans and stuck out his hand. “My name’s Darian. Darian Weston. I live up the road. I was just messing with you about the private property shit. I mean, it is privately owned, but the owner hasn’t been around for years. My mom says he’s trying to sell this land, but no one wants to pay the asking price. Whatever. I come here to be alone.”

Jimmy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are you sure it’s okay if I stay? I mean… you don’t even know me.”

“No, but most people won’t even talk to me. So, if you aren’t afraid, and you aren’t gonna beat the shit out of me, then I’m glad for the company.” He pointed to Jimmy’s notebook. “You write? Or draw?”

Jimmy looked down and lifted his notebook. “This? I write.”

“Cool. I draw. You write poetry, or what?”

Jimmy chuckled. “Poetry? Um, no.” It finally clicked; this kid must be emo. Or goth? What was the difference again? He unquestionably had the look of some high-school clique. Black T-shirt, black jeans, abnormally black hair, purple nail polish, pierced eyebrow, and Jimmy even noticed black eyeliner under his long lashes. Most assuredly emo and possibly gay, Darian was no longer a threatening presence. Jimmy felt his insides relax. “I write… stuff,” he answered ambiguously. “Whatever comes to mind. Kind of a project my school’s counselor suggested.”

“What? You got emotional issues?” Darian asked bluntly.

“Something like that,” he answered with a shrug. Maybe he wasn’t vague enough.

“Me too.” Darian bent down and picked up a stone. He skipped it sideways into the pond; five hops and then it sank. “I was cutting last year. My gym teacher freaked when he noticed the marks. I had to sit through weeks of bullshit.” He held out his arm, removing the leather wrist cuff. “See. I still have three scar lines.”

Jimmy swallowed a lump in his throat. “Fuck.” He’d never thought of cutting before. Sure, he was upset a lot, but he never thought of hurting himself by dragging a blade across his skin. Mostly his frustration came out in the form of fistfights. Darian didn’t even seem to mind showing him. Jimmy wasn’t sure if he was proud of the scars or just didn’t care about them at all. “What school do you go to?”

“Winter’s Mill. You?”

“Westminster High School.”

“Ah, Heroin High. Too bad. How come you go there when you live out here?”

Jimmy sat in the grass and set his book down. “I’m just visiting my dad this weekend. Most of the time I live with my mom on Larson Court. I used to live practically across the street from the high school, but we had to move after the divorce.”

Darian’s eyebrows shot up. “To the richie-rich part of town!”

“Not really,” he said defensively. 

“It’s cool. I’m not judging.” Darian picked up and threw another stone. “I live with my mom as well. Never knew my dad. My mom has a different boyfriend all the time. Got four siblings, all from different sperm donors.”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide. “Damn!”

“Yeah, we’re a fucked-up family. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Two stepsisters and a half brother. Tommy is six months old. My mom only seems to have time for him, lately.”

Darian came over and sat in the grass next to Jimmy. “And let me guess, you get left out of everything?”

“Yup.” Jimmy grinned, looking at this very congenial fellow. How could people not like him?Jimmy’s normally reticent personality took a back seat in light of Darian’s charm. It wasn’t so much the things Darian said that drew him in as the way Darian’s eyes lit up when he looked at Jimmy. He found himself asking, “You got a book of drawings I might get to see sometime?”

Darian smiled and nodded. “Sure, I’ll see what I can find.” He lay back in the grass and closed his eyes, folding one arm behind his head and the other across his stomach.

Jimmy grinned and did the same.

The clouds floated by and drained away every care Jimmy had in the world. He closed his eyes. His ears picked up a blue jay, off in the distance. He heard a bullfrog. He heard rustling in the leaves, somewhere behind his head. A squirrel, maybe? It didn’t matter. The birds were chirping, and he felt safe.

Jimmy also heard Darian breathing, slow and steady, as if he were sleeping. Jimmy knew he wasn’t. The boy was just lying there listening to the sounds of nature and enjoying the quiet. Jimmy’s insides fluttered. As he lay there with Darian, listening to the smallest of sounds and sharing the most peaceful moment of his life, Jimmy knew meeting Darian Weston was going to be one of the best birthday presents of all time. He took a deep breath and relaxed more fully than he had in years.

Monday, March 19, 2012


Past and present exist side by side as the ghost of a young poet seeks to protect the family living in the house he haunts.

Robert ‘Robbie’ Clavell, a young Victorian poet, is murdered by a jealous competitor, but his murderer, not content with ending Robbie’s life, also invokes an ancient curse that forces his spirit to remain earthbound.
When Jamie Barrett, a dancer in London’s West End, receives a phone call from his mother telling him of strange knocking noises and furniture moving about, he travels home to Manchester to investigate and give support to his mother and his twelve year old niece, Laura.
Advised to contact a psychic for help, Jamie meets Kevin Singleton, and despite the seriousness of what they discover, the two men find a mutual attraction. Kevin explains to Jamie and his mother that their recent family tragedies had opened a portal allowing base spirits to enter and feed off of Laura’s youthful and vibrant energy.
Kevin is able to make a psychic connection with Robbie who tells him that George Russell, his murderer, is the one responsible for the upheaval in the Barrett household. But when Robbie tries to help Kevin exorcise Russell’s spirit, Russell summons up an even darker force - one that could not only destroy the house and everyone in it, but ensure Robbie’s spirit will never find his way home.

~J.P. Bowie


Excerpt From: A Ghost Story
Manchester, England 1899
From Lord and Lady Maplethorpe:
You are cordially invited to attend an intimate soirée on the evening of February 24th at 8 p.m. The renowned poet Mr Robert Clavell will entertain us with a short dissertation of his recently published poem, Lannisbourne. A light supper and refreshments will be served.
Robert sighed as he read the words printed in an elegant scroll on the very expensive card he held. He wished now he had never agreed to attend or read a stanza or two from his latest poem. Lannisbourne meant more to him than being listened to by a gin-swilling mob of degenerates masquerading as nobility. In his opinion, the secret life he led was a damned sight more palatable than the ghastly indulgences favoured by some of the Maplethorpe’s friends.
Only yesterday, he had heard through the gossip mill that a young girl had been admitted to the local hospital suffering from a severe beating after attending a private party given by some well-heeled fops. Robert had a suspicion as to whom the gossip referred. He shuddered, hoping against hope that George Russell would not be one of the attendees at tonight's soirée. The man was a thorn in Robert's side, a self-proclaimed 'master of the verse', and one to quickly deride Robert's work at every turn in the editorials he wrote for the newspaper bequeathed to him by his late father.
A discreet tap at his bedroom door pulled him from his dark thoughts. "Come in, Danvers."
His manservant appeared in the doorway, a small smile on his lined face. Danvers had been his parents' manservant before their tragic accidental deaths five years earlier in a hotel fire in Venice, Italy. As their only surviving heir, Robert had inherited the townhouse on Featherstone Avenue, and he had asked Danvers to stay on in his employ.
"Mr Edmonton is here, Master Robert. Shall I tell him you will be down momentarily?"
"Ask him to come up please, Danvers. I'm not quite finished dressing."
"Do you require assistance?"
"No, no... I can manage." Robert rarely asked Danvers to assist him with his wardrobe, requiring him only to draw his nightly bath and occasionally help with a bothersome button or collar.
"Very good, Master Robert. I shall send him up directly."
"Thank you, Danvers."
Robert breathed a sigh of relief that he had managed to garner his friend John Edmonton an invitation to tonight's gathering. John, a successful lawyer based in London was in Manchester for a weekend visit, staying at a gentleman’s club. With John there it would be bearable, and perhaps afterwards they could return here for a brandy, and...
Another tap on the door, this one more robust, and John entered, his handsome face wreathed in smiles. "Robert, how dashing you look in your best bib and tucker!"
Robert chuckled and opened his arms to his friend. "And you will turn every head tonight, John."
"The only head I want to turn is the pretty one perched on your shoulders." John wrapped his arms around Robert and kissed him, gently at first, then as longing and need took over, with a fervour that had both men moaning into each other's mouths.
"Oh, Robbie..." John groaned his pet name for Robert softly against his lips. "It’s been too long since last we enjoyed one another's company like this."
Robert ran a hand over John’s thick, sandy-coloured hair, his fingers straying over the nape of John’s neck in a tender caress. "I know, my love, but it's difficult when we live so far apart."
"You could move to London." John kissed Robert's neck. "What is there here for you that makes you refuse to leave?"
"This is my home, John. I have friends here..."
Top of Form

J.P. Bowie, Author

Monday, March 12, 2012

DC Juris talks about BETRAYED

Why So Serious?

I’ve been asked several times why I “felt the need” to make Meldrick and Faldor’s story in “Betrayed” so dark.
The short answer, and the answer I always give to questions of this sort, is “the characters dictate the story, not me.”

The long answer, I suppose, is because I’m probably more comfortable with darker emotions than I am with lighter ones. Anger, pain, betrayal, rage, jealousy - these are all emotions I became closely acquainted with growing up. There wasn’t a lot of joy in my childhood. So things feelings like love, kindness, compassion – those all came to me later in life. They were all things I had to learn to negotiate, and some of them I’m still learning.

So when one of my characters does something that other authors, or even my beta readers, frown upon, I’m usually sitting there nodding, thinking, “yeah, but I’m totally on board with that mindset.” I “get” tortured, dark characters far easier than happy, healthy ones.

The other answer is probably that there’s a bit of self-mirroring in those characters. Take Meldrick, for example. He has a history – he’s done things that most people wouldn’t be able to relate to. Yet there’s something about him…some redeeming quality that keeps a person latched to him. Keeps them from throwing up their hands and walking away. His outer shell is hard, his inner core is bruised and battered, but what makes him who he is – his soul – is still there, underneath everything. And he’s still beautiful for it. He’s still worthy. And that’s kind of how I see myself, at the expense of sounding vain. 

Underneath all the pain, I’m still the person I’ve always been, and that keeps people from walking away.
I received an e-mail from a reader a couple weeks ago. It was just two lines: “Goddamn you for making me like Meldrick. Bravo.” And I realized – that’s my talent. That’s the message behind my stories – flawed or not, my characters are worthy of your time. 

That is all for now,
DC Juris

DC Juris, Author of GLBTQ & Het Romance
"Love is a Many - Flavored Thing"


Monday, March 5, 2012

Jaxx Steele

Greetings Lovers of M/M Romance,
Jaxx Steele here once again to share my work with you. This time I come with Cam’s Best Friend in hand. I have always like magic induced stores, but one ever came to mind. When the idea finally came to mind for my first fantasy the story came together pretty fast, but getting it from my head to the computer was a challenge. Bottom line, my typing skills pretty much suck. I type with four fingers and my brain moves way faster than my fingers can keep up with.
The characters spoke continuously, screaming at me to get their story but I couldn’t get it out fast enough. It drove me crazy! Once finally on paper and done, it moved swiftly to the top five of my “favorite babies” list along with Papa Knows Best, Indian Blood Moon and Christmas Nick for Everyone. 
This book has magic, betrayal, destined love, an awesome fight scene and hot sex…what’s not love? Seriously speaking, this was my first fantasy and it has sparks something in me. I have 2 more fantasies coming in the near future. 
A little about Cam’s Best Friend…
Cameron Gamble was a simple man who ran away from an awkward life. He found a new city to start over in, a new job and the perfect best friend, Mel, a large chocolate lab. It wasn’t long before they were inseparable and Mel had a permanent place in Cameron’s heart. One night, as Cameron recovered from a nightmare, the bright light of the moon revealed Mel’s true nature. All was well in Cameron’s world from that day forth until his ex-lover showed up with the intention of bringing him home.
I am thankful to Tristan for spotlighting me this week so you guys get first look at Cam’s Best Friend. It will be released at Silver Publishing March 3rd, 2012.

Here is a peek inside…Enjoy!

"His eyes were bulging so much it was easy to keep eye contact," Baptiste continued aloud, severing the connection to Reynaud's mind. "The second the light of life left his gaze, the magic in his soul transferred to me. It was such a rush!" Baptiste shook the bars. "I had no more use of him afterward so I returned him to you," he added with a dismissive wave in calmer tones.
Baptiste's treachery horrified Reynaud. Such a deed had never been done intentionally. The forbidden act of taking another's magic remained the highest undocumented law. Everyone generally assumed no one would ever do such a cruel, cold-blooded and evil thing to another Creolyte. The transfer itself had been discovered by accident many years ago when a Creolyte woman embraced her dying lover. He held her gaze, whispering his love and with his final breath his magic transferred to her.
Reynaud closed his eyes tight, pushing away the dreadful feelings Baptiste's words created inside of him. But he could not remove the scene forced into his mind. He saw Baptiste carrying his beloved Angele's lifeless body back into the bedroom, returning him to Reynaud's side as clearly as if it were happening at that moment. Reynaud's heart pounded behind his chest and tears welled behind his lids. He took a deep breath and swallowed his pain before opening his eyes. The smug grin on Baptiste's face inflamed Reynaud's anger.
"You have shown me the treachery at your hands, and I am about to pay the price for it, Baptiste. Now tell me why. Why would you kill Angele if he posed no threat to you?" Reynaud asked through gritted teeth.
Baptiste's smirk turned into a sinister smile. "Angele's death was essential to my plan, my good man."
Reynaud's confusion continued. Baptiste chuckled.
"You have held your station long enough, Reynaud Leduc. It was only because you caught Madame Cousteau's eye as a child that you became her favorite. It was her favor that elevated you to your post. I think it is time someone else had it… namely me."
Reynaud scoffed. "That's what this is about… jealously?"
"I am not jealous!" Baptiste snapped then quickly cleared his throat. "This is not about jealously, Reynaud," he amended in a calmer tone. "This is about due process. It is simply my time. My magic is strong, but never as strong as yours. However, with Angele's magic added to my own, it is just as powerful. They will give me a mate and I will finally have the prestige I deserve."
"What you did was unspeakably heinous! Why attack an innocent? If you wanted to take my place, why not just come after me?" he asked incredulously.
"Oh no, Reynaud. It was not that simple," Baptiste explained, shifting his position against the bars. "You are Madame Cousteau's favorite… well you were, anyway. I could not openly attack you without reprimand. I had to make it so even she could not help you." He paused, pressing his face between the thin iron poles. "I had to destroy you," he emphasized, his voice dripping with ice.
Abruptly Baptiste's head jerked to look over his shoulder. The sneer on his face had disappeared when he turned back to Reynaud. In its place was an almost pleasant smile.
"I can hear your welcoming committee coming, Reynaud. Good luck in your next life as a beast," Baptiste said lightly.
Baptiste left Reynaud sitting on the bench filled with bewilderment and anger. He leaned his head back against the wall and listened. The clumping of the shoes the guards wore came closer and Baptiste's satisfied laughter moved further away.
"The council is ready, Reynaud." A man appeared before the cell.
Reynaud rose and went to the door with his hands before him. The magical binding took place, pressing his wrists together and suppressing his magic as soon as he stepped out of the confined space. The guards returned him to the room where the elders sat, but no one else remained.
Once again, Madame Cousteau came to her feet to address him. "We wish you luck, Reynaud and hope you find love with a human so you may return to your Creolyte body someday."
Reynaud thought for a moment about telling them what Baptiste had confessed, but decided against it. He had no proof to exonerate himself and the sentence would be carried out anyway. Accepting his punishment with his head high, Reynaud held his tongue. The other elders joined Madame Cousteau, forming a circle around him. They muttered the incantation in unison. He closed his eyes, feeling the change come over his body, and vowed to be more diligent in his mission in the future. 

Buy link available at my house!


The Rainbow Book Fair

Just an update since the Rainbow Book Fair is 19 days away!

All Male Romance (allmaleromance.com) is “a small ‘community’ of writers with one thing in common: We love gay romantic fiction.” It is a website “dedicated to bringing readers of m/m romantic fiction together with the authors they love!!”  
We are a SPONSOR at the BOOK FAIR

Come visit us at: Table A8  and take home free handouts and a CD!
Saturday, March 24, 2012    11am–5:30pm
The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center 208 West 13th Street    NYC

Click for link

Some of our authors have BLOGGED about it. Check out what they have to say here:

Ryan Field - click here

Wade Kelly - click here

Jaxx Steele - click here

Michele L. Montgomery at Top2bottomreviews - click here

Rebecca Leigh Click here

I will post more links to author blogs on the Rainbow Book Fair as I have them.

Thank you,

Tristan :)