Monday, October 28, 2013

Garrett Leigh--Bullet is Coming...

Today Garrett Leigh talks about her writing process and newest release, BULLET.

Plotter or pantster?
Plotter, at least in theory. I try my best, but occasionally the evil curse of the pantster catches me and I just have to ride it out. Though, for me, that's rarely a good thing. Without the supervision of at least some vague notes, my manuscripts have a tendency to become utter chaos.
Tortured hero or tortured villain?
Both. I like my characters deeply flawed, and I don't believe all villains are bad to the bone. Who doesn't like a bad guy with heart?

Easy on your characters or as hard as possible?
Hard. Without doubt. I put my characters through the mill, build them up, then shove 'em right on through again. Conflict, angst, hurt, comfort. That's how I roll.

What do you consider to be the key elements of a great story?
All of the above, I guess, but as a reader I need to see really great characters. They don't have to be a certain type, but they must be emotive and likeable. Too often I've picked up a book with a great plot, only to find I don't give two shits about the ending because the leading character is booooorrrrrring. I'd rather a dickhead, than a one dimensional brat.

What is the hardest part of writing your books?
Continuity and timelines. Every editor I've ever worked with tears their hair out over my inability to keep things coherent. Comments like: 'How can X be doing Y, when you still have him over at Z's' are a part of my everyday life.

Who has been your favorite character to write?
Oooh, now that's a hard one. Ash from Slide is my original baby, but I've grown rather fond of Levi too. He's a big bear of a man, but soft as shit beneath it all. And he doesn't have much luck, bless him.

Favorite line/quote from current work?
I'm quite partial to the opening line of Bullet… 
"A trickle of sweat ran down the center of Levi Ramone’s chest. More beaded his brow. He shook his head, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes. It was too long for working on broken-down motorbikes, too long for his momma’s liking, and definitely too long for porn."

Sets it up quite nicely *snicker* and here's the blurb…

Levi Ramone entered the gay porn market for one reason, and one reason only–he needed the cash to pay his momma's spiraling gambling debts.

Seven years later, he's a veteran with a reputation as one of Blue Boy Studio's most ruthless tops, and when his boss suggests it's time for a change, he finds himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Figuratively speaking, at least.

Enter Sonny Valentine, a go-go dancer at Blue's sister club, Silver's. Levi has secretly admired Sonny from afar for years, but there's one problem–he can't stand Sonny and the feeling is entirely mutual. When Levi learns Sonny is to play the third part in a scene he considers his worst nightmare, he figures things can't get any worse.

But when preparations for the scene from hell collide with tragic events in his personal life, he finds his fast growing, red hot attraction to Sonny the one thing left between him and a bullet.


Garrett Leigh lives in a small commuter town just north of London with her husband, two kids, a dog with half a brain, and a cat with a chip on her shoulder. She's twenty-nine, and now she's reached that milestone, she intends to stay there for the foreseeable future. Garrett has been writing just about her whole life, but it's been about three years since she decided to take it seriously. According to Mr. Garrett, it was either give the men in her head a voice or have herself committed.

Angst. She can't write a word without it. She's tried, she really has, but her protagonists will always always be tortured, crippled, broken, and deeply flawed. Throw in a tale of enduring true love, some stubbly facial hair, and a bunch of tattoos, and you've got yourself a Garrett special.

When not writing, Garrett can generally be found procrastinating on Twitter, cooking up a storm, or sitting on her behind doing as little as possible. That, and dreaming up new ways to torture her characters. Garrett believes in happy endings; she just likes to make her boys work for it.

Garrett also works as a freelance cover artist for various publishing houses and independent authors under the pseudonym G.D. Leigh.

Cover art enquiries:



Thursday, October 24, 2013

Hard-ass is Here--Yes Indeed!

Today I have S.c. Wynne here interviewing Character Taylor Williams from Hard-Ass!
What is your name and occupation? Taylor Williams

How old are you? Thirty-Four

How did you come by your current occupation? I had a horrible home life growing up and I ran away. The man who took me in paid for me to go to college where I received a degree in Business. I was pretty gun shy about people so that allowed me to focus on school and being at the top of my class I got a great job with Peterton Financial.

Do you like your job? Why or why not? Yes. I love my job. I used to love it because it was a job with structure. Numbers don’t let you down or change and then turn on you. They either add up or they don’t. I love my job even more now that Phillip Daniels has arrived.

Who is the person you dislike the most? My father.

Who is the person you respect the most? Phillip Daniels.

Is there anyone special in your life? Phillip Daniels. He’s amazing.

What’s your favorite meal, and do you fix it yourself or have someone fix it for you? I don’t really have a favorite meal.  I love food but I’m too lazy to cook. Phillip loves to cook so he would be the one making our meal. And it would turn out flawless…like him.

Football or baseball? Football. But only watching it. I might get killed if I tried to play it. I’m a numbers guy not a pigskin guy.

Favorite exercise?  Using my calculator. I’m kidding. I like jogging.

I hear you’re planning a winter vacation. Where are you going? Is anyone going along? Big Bear, CA. I’m a little nervous because I’m not an outdoor macho type of guy. I’m going with Phillip. He invited me up there for Christmas. I’ve never liked holidays. Until now.

If you had one wish, what would it be? That I’d been born with different parents so I wouldn’t distrust people so much. My entire life would have been different. But I would still want to have met Phillip Daniels. Knowing him has given me hope.

Senior Analyst Taylor Williams knows there’s an embezzler at Peterton Financial, and he’s been doing everything he can to catch the crook. Unfortunately the numbers keep adding up to him being the thief.  When corporate sends in Regional Manager, Phillip Daniels to catch the crook, it’s obvious he suspects Taylor right off the bat. Phillip is gorgeous, sexy as hell and a hard ass. But when it comes to sexual attraction logic can’t compete. Even though Phillip suspects Taylor might be the thief, he can’t keep himself from bringing him into his bed, time and time again. Will the numbers add up to a happy ending for these two?
“What the hell is this?” I asked, scowling as Randy dumped a huge, sloppy pile of files and data sheets onto my desk.
“He wants us to go through all of these, ASAP,” Randy said.
Who wants us to go through all of these?”
“The new hard-ass is here.” Randy’s voice had the usual respect he afforded the higher-ups. None.
I swiveled my chair and peeked out of my office to see a man standing with the bigwigs in front of the shimmering Christmas tree in the lobby. The new guy was about forty, black hair, at least six feet tall, with broad shoulders impeccably encased in what was probably a two-thousand-dollar designer jacket. His jaw was tense, belying the air of relaxed confidence he was doing his best to sell.
The guy allowed a polite smile as Sally, the receptionist, pulled a piece of shiny silver tinsel from his shoulder. Knowing Sally, she’d be positioning him under the mistletoe first chance she got.
“Where did he come from?” I asked.
“Your dreams?”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me he was already here?” I asked, ignoring Randy’s taunt.
“I am telling you.”
“I mean sooner. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Did you explain to him we’ve compiled this already?”
“I tried. He’s good-looking, but he might be lacking in smarts.”
“It makes no sense to go through these. We have it all in digital files already.” I grumbled, flipping through the sheets. “What is this, 1984?”
“You can take it up with Pretty Boy yourself. Looks like he’s making the rounds, and he’s coming this way.”
Great. This was who they sent? We’d been hemorrhaging buckets of money, though those losses were largely due to theft. Reviewing data printouts of losses we’d already reviewed a hundred times was a waste of energy and cash. Peterton Financial was a large, well-oiled machine, which meant it took a lot of money to pay for all that square footage. I guess I’d have to shut up and let the new boss take a stab at fixing our branch’s problems. And when he left, like the last two, I could get some actual work done.
“Ten bucks says he doesn’t last the week,” Randy whispered, waving a bill in front of my nose.
I eyed the new guy’s perfect haircut and aquiline nose. Maybe he was tougher than he looked? Probably not, but it was only ten bucks.
“You’re on.”
“Like taking candy from a baby,” Randy said, tucking the money back in his pocket.
Lucinda Mercy, the office manager, stopped at my office with Mr. Haircut.
“Taylor Williams, I’d like to introduce our new regional manager, Phillip Daniels.” She smiled at me, lipstick on her teeth. “Taylor is the senior financial analyst for the New York project.”
“Nice to meet you, Taylor.” Daniels took the lead. His shake was firm, the skin of his manicured hand smooth. I got a whiff of grapefruit, lavender, and lemongrass. He smelled terrific, I wasn’t going to deny it, but his gaze appeared tepid at best.
It had been a long time since I’d met someone as good-looking as Phillip Daniels up close and personal. In fact, I hadn’t been up close and personal with anyone in quite a while. But that was no excuse for being rude and leering at the guy.
“Hope we can accomplish some fine work together.” Was it me, or did I sound like I was coming on to him? Crap, I needed to get laid and fast before I embarrassed myself any more.
“I see Randy dropped off the files I want you to comb through,” Daniels said in a velvety voice.
“About that, we’ve got all this on the computer. I don’t need to go through the hard copies,” I said, meeting his cool stare.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”
I gave a surprised laugh. “No, I mean it’s been done several times already.”
“Then one more time won’t hurt anybody, will it?”
I hesitated. Did he have bad hearing or something? “I’ll see if I can get to it.”
“On the contrary, I want you to make this a top priority.”
He might be gorgeous, but he was either dumb or an arrogant prick. “Maybe I’m not making myself clear. These have already been gone through and saved to the computer.” I spoke slowly, in case he was having trouble understanding the big words.
“Look, Taylor, is it? We need to get something straight right off the bat. I’m your boss, and I’m giving you a direct order.”
“I understand that, but I have a lot of work and this is a waste of my time.”
Lucinda gasped and looked nervously between Phillip and me.
“Do you want to catch the thief, Taylor?” he asked.
“What does that have to do with—”
“You should be willing to do whatever it takes. Since you’re so familiar with the data, it shouldn’t take you long.”
“It’s not as simple as that. Going over all this is extremely time-consuming,” I said. “I have other things I need to get to.”
“I’m sure you’ll work it out. I expect a report ASAP.”
He turned his back on me and walked to the next cubicle, perhaps to spread his good cheer.
“Wow, you like the rough stuff.” Randy snickered.

Contact S.c.: Blog

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Slippery When Wet

The first thing I think of is…the shower. Steam. All that hot water, a bath sponge, lots of foamy body wash…
And a couple of guys.
What’s not to like?
Although Beck and Zach don’t get under water (that we can see)!


Beck reached his desk and lowered himself into the chair. A pile of reports sat waiting for his attention. Ridiculous. He was a homicide detective, not a secretary. This was a waste of his skills. Field cases waited, infinitely more interesting and requiring a detective’s intuition.

Across the room, Van met his gaze and looked away. Beck spun his chair toward the windows behind him. Sheets of water rippled down the windows, blurring the building across the street.

After the shooting, Beck’s ex-lover had made it clear as still water that there was nothing left between them. At least Van had understood the pressures of the job, the danger, both on the street and in the department. Homicide was a macho division, and the other detectives were unlikely to accept an alternate orientation. He and Van had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps. Had they had a relationship or just been fuck buddies?

Nights in a soft bed, Van’s hot tongue everywhere until Beck squirmed with need. A firm grip on his cock, stroking.

What would you like tonight?

Heat rushed to his groin. Mind-blowing sex—no doubt about that—but was that all they’d had?

They’d never eaten at a restaurant unless it was out of town. They’d never taken a vacation together. Van liked sun and sand and room service; Beck preferred snow and skiing and grilled steaks at the lodge. And they never stayed over at each other’s places.

Sure didn’t sound like a relationship. Hell, when he’d been lying in the hospital with his shattered shoulder pinned together, wondering if his hand would ever work again, he’d turned to Van expecting emotional support, and his lover had gunned down the only thing Beck had left.

Van had left nothing at Beck’s apartment except travel brochures.

The first time Beck had risked his heart, and he’d gotten blown away for his trouble. Staying secreted in the closet precluded Van paying attention to a disabled boyfriend. “It would look strange if I spent extra time with you,” Van had said, and he’d been careful not to visit more often than any of the others. At that point, Beck had wished his injuries had been more severe, that the bullet had hit a few inches to the right and down, preempting Van’s assault on Beck’s heart. Death had sounded better than total bereavement.

Anger had overtaken depression in short order. The first thing he’d done after arriving home was deep-six the tropical-vacation brochures littering the kitchen counter.

In the ensuing weeks, Beck had fought through the pain of physical therapy and the loss of the relationship.

As Beck’s psychologist, Jay had helped him work through most of that. And the painful inquiry about the shootings.

“Hey.” Soft brown eyes gazed down at him, wary, not welcoming. The familiar scent of Van’s bay rum aftershave reached Beck, and his stomach clenched.

“Well. What can I do for you, Detective Gates?”

Van plopped a folder on his desk. “Got a computer request that needs your expertise.”

“Don’t think I can help you.” Beck picked up a pen, tapped it on the folder. “I’m not a computer expert.”

Van’s full mouth thinned, lips pressed together. “It’s a search for vehicle license plates. Need it for the murder book.”

Helpless to resist, Beck’s gaze wandered down Van’s chambray-clad torso. The memory of burying his face in Van’s groin set off a twitch in his own.

“Hey, dickhead. I need the information.”

Head in the game, Stryker. “What’s the case?”




**If you want to be entered in a drawing for a $5 Loose Id gift card, leave me a comment and your email below! Click on the other blogs for more chances to win prizes.