It seems even when I'm not writing, I'm writing. There are always little ideas that pop into my head, or research to be completed.
Writing is something I do to de-stress and relax, which is odd since it's also work.
I suspect I'm a closet workaholic.
No matter, the point is I like to write.
I also like to have a good cup of coffee (or three) while I'm doing my writing
Yes, I'm a whole bean girl! I love flavored coffee and I have a collection of grinders, one that looks similar to this one! Mostly it just sits on a shelf in my kitchen looking pretty, but it really does serve a purpose.
If my power goes out, I'm still having my freshly ground bean cup of coffee! I use a French press to do the actual brewing.
A friend of mine sends me coffee for Christmas and my birthday from a place called Berres Brothers. Awesome coffee. My current favorites are the Highlander Grog and Black Velvet. They are to die for!
Like most writers I use my likes and dislikes with my characters. One aspect that's bled into almost every book and is a staple in two of my series is love of coffee. I don't even do it on purpose, it just happens!
In the very first Sentries book, Marked Yours, Nick is introduced to coffee for the first time. His love of a good cup is something woven through the entire series. Nick uses a hand grinder much like mine.
My vampire, Jonas Forge, has sniffed out his java (and many bad guys) through two series now, The Sleepless City and The Vampire Guard.
Like me both these guys enjoy coffee with a bit of chocolate added and they like it strong. Not black, I can't do black, so cream and sugar for them too!
Dreamspinner Press and DSP Publications has provided me with a discount coupon for my books. Use ElizabethNoble , as always case sensitive between now and March 8, 2017 to receive 30% off any of my titles.
Today I welcome my friend, J. Scott Coatsworth and am very excited to be a part of his blog tour for his latest uber-cool book! Go buy it.
Jameson Havercamp, a psych from a conservative religious colony, has come to Oberon—unique among the Common Worlds—in search of a rare substance called pith. He’s guided through the wilds on his quest by Xander Kinnison, a handsome, cocky wing man with a troubled past.
Neither knows that Oberon is facing imminent destruction. Even as the world starts to fall apart around them, they have no idea what’s coming—or the bond that will develop between them as they race to avert a cataclysm.
Together, they will journey to uncover the secrets of this strange and singular world, even as it takes them beyond the bounds of reality itself to discover what truly binds them together.
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Scott was kind enough to answer some questions for me.
Interview: J. Scott Coatsworth
Thanks for having me to celebrate the release of my first novel, “Skythane.” :) Here are my answers.
Do you still have the same critique partners/betas you had when you first started?
Yes and no. I had a great critique group back in the nineties, but that was seven or eight moves ago. But more recently? I have a group of friends who betas for me, but it rotates depending on availability and the kind of project.
Do you write more on the romance side, or the speculative fiction side? Or both? And why?
LOL … yes! I started out writing only sci fi and fantasy. But over the last few years, I’ve branched out a bit. I managed to get my first publication by submitting to every open anthology at Dreamspinner in 2014, but even that one had a bit of magical realism to it. It’s rare that I write a “straight” contemporary – that is, one with no fantasy or sci fi in it at all.
My first novel, Skythane, is a mix of sci fi and MM romance. My second novel, out for submission right now, is more sci fi with queer characters.
Do your books spring to life from a character first or an idea?
Usually from an idea. Skythane from the idea of a split world (though it started with a strong character too). Liminal sky form the idea of a living world built in space by mankind. The idea usually comes first, but the characters follow quickly behind.
How did you deal with rejection letters?
They used to kill me. In fact, a spate of them in the mid-nineties turned me off of writing for the better part of twenty years.
Now, though, I see them as an opportunity. If a story doesn’t work at one place, it might at another… and there’s always self-publishing, which is so much easier in the digital age than when I was first writing.
Plus, I don’t get rejected now nearly as much as I used to.
How do you construct your novel?
I used to just dive in and see where it went. These days, I lay out a chapter by chapter plot, and although I usually don’t follow it to the letter, it serves as a roadmap to get me to the end. Now my stories actually get finished, and usually make sense. :P
My new novel, Skythane, is just out – and it combines my love of sci fi and secret reveals and MM romance. I hope you enjoy it!
Rain hit the plas and ran downward in little rivulets, separating and rejoining like branches of time as the storm whipped itself into a frenzy over Oberon City.
Xander Kinnson lay on his bed, head thrown back, watching the tempest with a laziness that belied his inner turmoil and pain. Alix had left him and gone missing. A year had passed, and still he had a hard time accepting that simple fact.
His dark wings with their jet-black feathers were stretched out lazily to each side of his supine form, their tips extending past the edge of the bed. His chest heaved slowly up and down, and he breathed easily, as if he were utterly relaxed.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. Below the surface, under the deception of skin and sinew, his heart beat at a thunderous pace, and his mind raced for answers to Alix’s fate that slipped beyond his grasp.
The handsome trick he’d brought home rested his warm hands on Xander’s thighs, his hot mouth engaged elsewhere. Xander smelled the deep, masculine musk of him, slipping a hand absently through the man’s dark, tousled hair as the rain increased to a thundering downpour against the plas. The drops glistened, each an individual universe of shimmering light before running quickly out of sight.
A flash of lightning illuminated the room, thunder indicating how close it had been. As the heavy rain pounded against the arco’s walls, Xander rode the wave of pleasure higher and higher. Despite himself, he rose quickly toward climax, drawn up on the tide as the trick worked his cock. Unable to stop himself, he thrust his hips almost angrily upward into the man’s willing throat. Closer, closer….
He reached the crest, a pleasure so intense it burned through him like phosphorous, a white-hot fire.
Lightning flared again across the wet, black sky, followed by thunder so close it shook the bed. The storm had reached a fever pitch outside, and he arched his back in the air one more time, his wings rustling beneath him. As if in concert with the storm, Xander came, the release of his orgasm radiating from his hips along his spinal cord and down through his toes and the tips of his wings.
The rush of elation washed away his cares for a few brief moments. Xander shuddered, shivered, and shuddered again, and it was over.
For a while, he drifted in an oblivion that was blessed in its emptiness. The rain fell in a steady beat against the window, and he forgot to wallow in his pain. His mind floated free, with no responsibilities, nothing to worry about for those brief moments between sex and real life. This was what he needed. This lack of thought, this pleasurable oblivion where he could just be.
When he opened his eyes at last, the nameless trick was staring down at him, expectant.
“You’re still here.”
“I can do more, if you’d like,” the man said with a grin. Like Alix, he had no wings—a lander man.
Xander glared at him, annoyed. He was handsome enough, tall, dark-haired, with blue eyes and a light complexion. Strangely, he reminded Xander of Alix. The hair and eyes were wrong, but there was something about him, and that annoyed the hell out of Xander, for reasons he didn’t care to examine too closely. “Get out,” he said with a dismissive wave.
The man frowned. “I thought—”
“Oh right, your pay.” Xander took the man’s arm and slitted him a hundred crits from the wrist reader embedded in his own. Then he waved the trick away. “We’re square. Now get the fuck out of my flat.”
The man gathered his own clothes, but Xander didn’t give him time to put them on. Instead he hustled the trick out of the irising door, palming it closed on his hurt and angry expression.
I really have become a bastard, he thought, staring at his dim reflection in the shiny black door. It had been a long year.
He tapped the cirq in his temple with his left hand, and called out to his PA. “Ravi, any messages for me?”
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Meet J. 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. He has sold more than a dozen short stories - some new, some that he had started years before. He is currently working on two sci fi trilogies, and also runs the Queer Sci Fi site, a group for readers and writers of gay sci fi, fantasy, and paranormal fiction.
Don't forget to stalk...urm follow Scott!
Meteors are awesome. Where they originate from is pretty cool as well!
Essentially meteor are small particles in space that can range in size from something pebble sized down to that of a grain of sand. Comets, or sometimes asteroids, will either shed these particles or break apart completely. The particles spread out in a a sort of line.
These particles come into contact with out atmosphere, traveling anywhere from 25,000 to 160,000 miles per hour (11km/second to 72 km/second). When they smash into molecules in our air the energy produced creates a flash of light and acts like a tiny comet with a tail. That's the streak we see from the ground.
The differences in the speeds in which the meteors hit our atmosphere is affected by the Earth's speed as it travels around the sun.
Until next time, Happy Reading and don't forget to take some time to go outside and look UP!
Giving the commencement speech at his alma mater doesn’t fit Clay Keller’s meticulous schedule. As Chief Executive Officer of Travel Mogul—the largest travel connoisseur company on the West Coast—he has no time to get back in touch with his country roots. He left fifteen years ago without a second look, but a medical scare makes him change his mind about the speech and brings him face-to-face with his only regret.
Time always moves slower in Southeastern Iowa, and Aaron Grant loves it. He’s added solar farms to the Grant Lanes portfolio and has been teaching at the local university for a decade. The last thing he needs is to have his tenure application compromised by the return of his ex-boyfriend. If he had known who the commencement speaker would be, he would never have volunteered to be the administration liaison.
A proposal—to date for a year—will help them discover that time changes a person, even when everything else stays the same.
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©2017 Lila Leigh Hunter
All Rights Reserved
Back to the future and all of that were Clay’s first thoughts as he stepped out of the car. The campus looked the same—Midwest Americana at its best. Redbrick buildings and perfectly pruned trees surrounded him, but as if the last fifteen years hadn’t happened, Clay’s world narrowed to the man waiting at the top of the portico stairs. The only thing time had changed? Them.
“Here’s your receipt, Mr. Keller,” the valet said, interrupting Clay’s musings. He didn’t remember being as young as the valet. Mr. Keller was his father, but Clay didn’t feel like correcting the man’s error.
“Not a problem. The man in the light gray suit is Professor Grant. He will be your escort today.”
“Perfect,” Clay responded, smiling at the mention of having an escort at his service, especially one whose body he knew well. With a nod and a tip, Clay left the valet behind, turning his attention back to Professor Grant. Professor. Aaron had done it after all. Clay had never doubted it, even after Aaron decided to stay and work at his family’s farm instead of moving with him to LA. Now he needed to find out if he had a chance with Aaron. At least having him there, waiting for him, had to be a good sign. Today was his lucky day indeed. True, he hadn’t expected to see Aaron so soon. He had planned to stop by the farm after the commencement, but he was ready either way. Life had been rough lately, but having the opportunity to see Aaron again was worth coming back to the middle of Nowhere, Iowa.
He walked casually toward the man he’d left behind many summers ago—a man standing like a prizefighter, waiting for Clay to reach him. With only a couple of feet between them, Clay’s step faltered. Aaron didn’t seem happy to see him, more like he was ready to bolt before Clay got to him. Shaking his head and keeping his eyes on his prey, he closed the distance and extended his hand in greeting.
“Professor Grant, I believe you’re expecting me?” He hoped his smile would ease Aaron’s frown.
“That I am, Mr. Keller. As the university liaison, it is my pleasure to welcome you back to your alma mater and to convey the president’s and the board of trustees’ deepest regards.”
“How long did it take you to memorize that spiel? As far as I remember, you weren’t fond of formalities.” Neither of them let go of the other’s hand. Aaron’s touch, familiar and foreign, branded him in seconds.
Aaron didn’t expect the hug that followed. As soon as their bodies touched, Aaron tensed, but Clay held him tighter.
“Relax, sunshine. It’s been a while.” Clay let Aaron go, but not before he rubbed his trimmed beard against Aaron’s clean-shaven face as he moved back.
Meet the Author
Lila Leigh Hunter is the pen name of a Puerto Rican author with a hyphenated surname. Born and raised on the island, Lila grew up making up stories her siblings pretended to like. But no matter what they say, as the youngest of six, she’s still their mom’s favorite. According to the dusty diplomas on her wall, she’s an architectural designer living in Southern Texas with her husband and four military brats.
She spends most of her free time writing homoerotic romances about middle-aged men finding happiness and the rest hiding from pesky house chores. When outside of her cave, she likes to observe people and try to guess their stories. Sometimes she wishes the voices in her head were real; going out with the boys in her books sounds like a plan made in heaven.
This week's snippet is from my current work in progress, Edge Jump. It's a BDSM story between a retired pro hockey player and an ice dancer with a touch of a mystery added in. In this little part the two MCs are starting to open up to each other and sort of tap dance around their attraction. It's part of chapter 2.
“Wow, thanks. How’d you know what I liked?” Rylan sipped the coffee. “Now I’m doubly impressed. You got my order perfectly.” Brett shrugged, took a drink of his own coffee then a bite of his food. His eyes had a roguish glint and he bobbed his eyebrows a few times. Rylan bumped his elbow against Brett’s. “Seriously, how did you know?”
Brett swallowed, took another gulp of coffee and licked his lips, grinning mischievously while he jerked one thumb over his shoulder. “I told the girl at the counter I was trying to impress you and she said double shot mocha cappuccino and that bagel would make you fall into bed with me.”
Check out other snippets HERE.
I had the pleasure of beta reading this book as Grace wrote it. I loved every chapter and couldn't wait for the next! Today I'm so excited to be a part of the cover reveal for this wonderful book. It's sweet and sexy. One of those books that is fun to read and simply makes you feel good.
By Grace R. Duncan
Cover by Jess Small
Pre-order available 2/3/2017
Release date: 3/3/2017
Liam Scott is sick. That’s not supposed to be possible. As a wolf shifter, he’s supposed to be able to heal. The omega gene he was born with means he’s capable of carrying shifter young and Liam is worried that whatever is wrong will mean his one-day hope of having pups will be dashed. But despite the fears keeping him away from the doctor until now, he knows he needs to go.
It turns out the sickness is temporary, but the treatment causes a whole other problem.
Mason’s alpha gene means he’s one of very few wolves who can impregnate an omega male. For two years, he’d been watching Liam, but things kept getting in the way. When Liam shows up in heat, Mason recognizes the opportunity he needs and doesn’t hesitate make to Liam his mate and the father of his pups.
But Liam has old wounds and fears to work through which the pregnancy is only making worse, and Mason isn’t sure how to get past them to show he’s serious about making a life together as loving mates. It’s not until a female wolf decides Mason should be hers that Liam makes his biggest worry known—and Mason can finally put the fears to rest.
When the alarm went off, I smacked it into submission, then burrowed farther into my pillow. The last thing I wanted to do was get out of bed. Despite knowing I had to have slept, I had absolutely zero energy. I didn’t remember waking up overnight at all, and I knew I’d lain down by ten and fallen asleep pretty fast.
I gave in to a moment of self-pity. As a wolf shifter, I wasn’t supposed to be sick. I wasn’t supposed to be able to get sick with common things. And if I got sick, I was supposed to be able to recover within a day or two. Our injuries never lasted more than a day or two, and that was only if it was severe. We didn’t get diseases, especially human ones. And if we did manage to contract some kind of bug that attacked wolf immunity, our bodies killed it quickly.
There were rumors that a form of cancer had started hitting the wolf population. That scared me more than a little, especially recently, with whatever was wrong with me. It was one reason why I hadn’t yet gone to the doctor. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what they’d tell me.
Because I was also not a typical male shifter. I was one of a rare type the Idiots That Be named “omega.” I didn’t know if they found it ironic or what when they borrowed the name from the humans’ faulty knowledge of wild wolves. But omega was definitely a misnomer. It used to mean “weak.” The bottom of the totem pole, as it were, in a wolf pack. I was on the smaller side, but that was no more indicative of my strength than my light brown hair was.
Omegas are as strong as most other wolves, as fast as any of them. We’re not looked down on—for the most part—by other wolves, or made to be the last to do or get anything. Sure, there are always some who insist we’re inferior. I suspect it’s mostly jealousy, though that wasn’t always easy to remember when I was the one being picked on.
No, what made us unique was that omegas could carry and give birth to our young.
Like the female wolves, omegas went into heat once a month, usually for four days around the new moon. Sometimes more or less; it was as individual as human females were. We wolves, omega and female alike, took a form of birth control that suppressed our heat. I had no idea how it worked with our metabolism, but apparently the shifter scientists knew a lot more than me. So, as the new moon approached, I took a pill twice a day and voila—no heat.
Which was good because going through heat sucked.
It was the worst horniness imaginable. I could jack off constantly for that four-day period and it didn’t relieve me. I could stuff my ass full of dildos and nothing helped. The only thing that would was the one thing I hadn’t let myself do—find an alpha male to breed me.
Yes, we had alphas. It was a genetic marker in their blood, not much else. Most of them were a bit bigger than the rest of us, some a bit stronger. But it wasn’t a huge difference. And I hadn’t yet met an alpha with the kind of asshole attitude that’s so frequently portrayed in fiction. They got named alpha because they were discovered first. Alpha males were the only ones who could impregnate an omega, which was probably because of that genetic marker. And while the scientists understood it, I didn’t.
The rest of the wolf population didn’t have a specific designation. If you weren’t an alpha or omega, you were just a plain ol’ wolf.
But even though I wasn’t ready to mate yet, I did want to have pups someday. So I was scared to death of what a doctor would tell me. What if something was wrong and I couldn’t have them?
I was going to have to put aside my fear, though. It’d been going on for two months now. Despite shifting on the full moon—we had no choice; we were forced through the shift—and exercising when I could, running at other times, I hadn’t gotten better.
I was exhausted. All the time. I got cold at the drop of a hat.
And I’d been forgetting shit. Stupid little details, that were driving me crazy. It had to stop.
Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.
A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.
As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.
Find Grace here:
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