Tuesday, December 22, 2015

The Boys of Summer--Just in Time For Christmas!


Today the lovely and talented Sarah Madison is here to answer questions and talk about her rerelease, The Boys of Summer.

Why write M/M romance?
I’ve thought about this question a lot, and have written extensively about it in the past. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that when I was growing up, men had all the best roles. They got the best lines, the best parts, and they got to have the most fun! I never wanted to be Jane during role play—I wanted to be Tarzan!
As I got older, despite secretly pining for romances, I could never identify with the heroines I was offered. I liked pretty things but I didn’t like waiting around to be rescued by the hero. I wasn’t afraid to get dirty. I liked sex and didn’t think I should have to wait for a declaration of marriage or true love. I hated seeing the typical heroine become Too Stupid To Live as soon as she met the hero. I disliked the frank inequality I saw between the heroes and heroines in their interactions.
When I discovered M/M romance, for the first time I felt as though I’d discovered adult romance written just for me. I can’t tell you how huge that was. The main characters met on equal terms—and took turns rescuing each other. They both got to have the best lines and the fun parts. And best of all, the sex was unapologetic and hot.
The longer I do this, the more I realize I owe it to my childhood self to take a crack at creating a heroine I can admire. One that won’t make me roll my eyes three pages into the story. I recognize however, that because she will break the rules, she’ll likely be unpopular. That’s okay. I have to try. In the meantime, I enjoy M/M romance.
What subgenre is your favorite?  I’m a real sucker for mysteries, with sci-fi/fantasy coming in a close second.
What Star Wars character would your lead character choose to be? Han Solo, of course! Wouldn’t they all?
 
What is the hardest part of writing your books?
Finding the energy to write after a long day at work. My job is extremely rewarding, but it can be emotionally and physically challenging too. Many days I plan in my head what I’m going to write when I get home, only to be too tired to do so when I finally walk in the door. I get frustrated sometimes because if I don’t write every day, it takes me a long time to get my head back into a story when I do pick it up again. As it is, I tend not to be as fast a writer as some—and I hate the idea I might be disappointing readers because I’m so slow at times.
 
What three essentials must you have in your writing room? A cup of tea, warm hands, and some uninterrupted time.
 
Blurb for The Boys of Summer:
David McIntyre has been enjoying the heck out of his current assignment: touring the Hawaiian Islands in search of the ideal shooting locations for a series of film company projects. What’s not to like? Stunning scenery, great food, sunny beaches… and a secret crush on Rick Sutton, the hot, ex-Air Force pilot who is flying him around.
Everything changes when a tropical storm and engine failure force a crash landing on a deserted atoll with a WWII listening post. Rick’s injuries, and a lack of food and water, mean David has to step up to the plate and play hero. While his days are spent fighting for survival, and his nights are filled with worrying about Rick, the two men grow closer. David’s research for his next movie becomes intertwined with his worst fears, and events on the island result in a vivid dream about the Battle of Britain. On waking, David realizes Rick is more than just a pilot to him. The obstacles that prevented a happy ending in 1940 aren’t present today, and David vows that if they survive this stranding, he will tell Rick how he feels.
Excerpt:
“I don’t think we’ve got much choice.” Sutton’s voice was grim. “We’re lucky to have that much. Hold on, these trees are coming up faster than I’d like.”
Still fighting to keep the nose of the plane up, Sutton guided the recalcitrant aircraft toward the so-called clearing, the ground rising up to meet them far faster than was comfortable. David found himself leaning back in his seat, bracing his hands on the console as the tops of trees scraped the underside of the plane. Branches swiped at the windshield, and David had the sudden impression of being in a car wash scene as written by Stephen King.
“Duck your head!” Sutton barked. “Wrap your arms around your legs!”
“And kiss my ass goodbye?” David shouted, raising his voice over the increasing noise as he obeyed Sutton’s orders.
Incredibly, Sutton laughed. It was an oddly comforting sound. Like everything was somehow going to be all right because Sutton was at the controls.
The moment of humor was gone in a flash. The plane screamed with the sound of tearing metal and the sharp, explosive crack of tree limbs and breaking glass. David kept his head down and his eyes closed, praying to a God he was pretty sure had more important things to do than to keep up with the well-being of one David McIntyre. There was a moment of eerie, blessed silence, and for an instant, the assault on the plane seemed as though it had lifted.
Someone had left the window open and it was raining on him. How incredibly annoying. He shifted, intent on reaching for the offending window, when a jolt of pain ran through his shoulder, and he gasped. When he opened his eyes, nothing made any sense at first. Then he remembered the crash, and realized that his side of the plane was pointing up at the sky. The rain was coming down in a steady stream through the broken windshield. The sound of the rain on the metal hull of the plane was nearly deafening.
He winced at the pain in his neck when he turned to look over at the pilot’s seat. Sutton was slumped to one side in his chair, unmoving. His sunglasses were hanging off one ear.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” David murmured, hastily undoing his seatbelt so he could reach across to Sutton. His skin was cold and damp where David touched it, and adrenaline pounded through David’s veins as though he could jumpstart Sutton’s heart by sending his own pulse beating through his fingertips. “Sutton! Rick!”
David fought to free himself of his seat, twisting for greater access to the other side of the cockpit. When the seatbelt came open, he fell half across Sutton. Sprawled practically in his lap, David could now see the nasty cut on the left side of Sutton’s temple. The pilot’s side of the plane had taken a lot of damage, and David yelped as he encountered a sliver of glass. Bits of the windshield and console were scattered like confetti over Sutton’s jacket. “Sutton!” The lack of response was unnerving. He tossed aside the sunglasses and worked a hand down into Sutton’s collar, feeling frantically for a pulse.
He could have kissed the man when Sutton suddenly groaned.
~*~*~
 
BIO:
Sarah Madison is a writer with a big dog, an even bigger horse, too many cats, and a very patient boyfriend. She is a terrible cook, and concedes that her life would be easier if Purina made People Chow. She writes because it is cheaper than therapy.
Sarah was a finalist in the 2013 Rainbow Awards and is the winner of Best M/M Romance in the 2013 PRG Reviewer’s Choice Awards for The Boys of Summer. The Sixth Sense series was awarded 2nd place for Best M/M Mystery Series in the 2014 PRG’s Reviewer’s Choice Awards. Walk a Mile (Sixth Sense series Book 2) was a finalist in the 2015 Rainbow Awards.
CONTACT: Website  Twitter  Facebook 
 
 

1 comment:

  1. Thanks for hosting me here today! I enjoyed it. :-)

    ReplyDelete