The Inimitable Annabeth Albert and Unconditional Surrender

I've got friend and fellow author Annabeth Albert in the hot seat today, answering questions and giving a sneak peek at the new M/M bundle, Unconditional Surrender! Check it out...
Name three things you’re scared of.
a.     Not being able to write!
b.     Not being able to read!
c.      Something happening to one of my kids!

You’ve been offered a guest spot on your favorite TV show. What is the show, and who is your character?
I want to be an extra on Downtown Abbey, and I want to be a fabulously wealthy visiting friend with a great wardrobe.

You are planning a cross-country trek to raise money for a charity. What is the charity? What does it mean to you?
I support a lot of different charities, but as part of my promotion for this anthology, I’ve been talking about the awesome work America’s Vet Dogs does to provide service animals for disabled military personnel.  You can learn more at http://www.vetdogs.org/

Why this particular charity for Xander and Mackey’s story? You’ll have to read to find out how Xander’s opinion on service animals changes!

You’ve been commissioned to paint a mural. What do paint, and why did you choose this subject?

Oh fun! Like my characters in this story, I have a special place in my heart for rural America. I’d love to do a Norman Rockwell/Grandma Moses style scene depicting all the best of the heartland—big pies, drive-in movies, fried chicken. Xander and Mackey would approve.
~*~
I’m thrilled to be part of the Unconditional Surrender bundle. My story, Resilient Heart, stars Mackey and Xander.

Army IT specialist Xander keeps his emotions wired as tight as his NETCOM gear, but when he’s seriously injured by an IED, his whole life unravels. Forced to accept help from his ex-friend-with-benefits, Mackey, Xander doesn’t know which is worse: combating his inner demons or dealing with Mackey’s guilty kindnesses. Both men will have to heal their wounded hearts to ensure a future together. 

At the heart of Xander and Mackey’s story is what it means to come back from a war zone. Both men come back changed individuals—Xander has obvious external injuries, but it’s the internal wounds that threaten to tear them apart. What I wanted to explore with Xander was the notion that sometimes the deepest injuries are the ones we can’t see.
Want a sneak peek at Xander and Mackey? This is from the opening chapter where Mackey has come to bring a reluctant Xander back to his apartment:

“Think I pretty much have everything.” Xander gestured at his duffle. A nurse’s aide had helped him pack, a humiliating process. His mom had brought him a bunch of civvies, but otherwise the duffel contained way too many reminders of the Army life he was leaving behind and too few clues about what the heck came next.

“Prosthesis in there?” Mackey asked, body language deceptively relaxed, eyes avoiding Xander’s arm.

“Yeah.” Xander put a heavy dose of “drop it” in his answer. He was supposed to wear his temporary prosthesis at least eight hours a day. He actually had two, but he hated both of them. His residual limb—such a BS term—was short, only three inches below his elbow, which made fitting tricky. The therapists kept telling him how much easier things would get when the last of his swelling went down and he could get a better-fitting myoelectric prosthesis, and how the process of skin desensitization would help him be more comfortable. Fuck that noise. Nothing he tried worked. He kept a padded sleeve on mainly because it hid the stump, but he hated the stupid devices. He was pretty sure his therapist had every synonym for “noncompliant” all over his chart.

“You got all your meds or you need to stop at the pharmacy on the way out?” Mackey dropped the prosthesis questioning, but wandered into the next pile of dog crap Xander wanted to avoid.

“I got them.”

“Including the new one?” Mackey did that thing with his eyebrows again—the thing where he tried to look casual and came off looking like a smart ass.

“Medical information is supposed be confidential.” Xander didn’t know who Mackey was buttering up—nurse, doctor, someone in command—but he clearly had the inside track on all Xander’s shortcomings. “And I don’t need head meds. Doctors want to medicate everyone these days.”

“Oh? You’re not depressed?” Mackey kept that same uber-reasonable tone. Uber-irritating more like it.

“Fuck no.”

“This new propensity of yours for glowering and cursing and scaring nurses, it’s just for giggles and grins? Because I got to tell you man, it’s not working. And it’s not really you.” Mackey hefted the duffel onto his shoulder as easily as if it were one of the bed pillows.

“This is me. You want old me? The nice guy? He’s gone. You’re wasting your time.”

“Oh, he’s in there,” Mackey said lightly. “He’s smothering under that giant chip on your shoulder, but we can knock that sucker off.” And with that, he—and Xander’s bag—headed into the hallway, the sounds of the ward creeping in as soon as the door opened.

Fuck Mackey. Fuck his sudden do-gooder streak and his assumptions. Like Xander wasn’t entitled to be pissed? Like he was supposed to be all Suzy Sunshine about his wrecked life? And Mackey saw him as some of fixer-upper project? Disappointing him was going to be hell, but the old Xander had died in a ditch back in Afghanistan when an IED took everything he knew to be true about himself. He grabbed the pillow and punched it hard with his good hand. Fuck.
~*~
Buy Links:  Amazon US  ARe B&N 
~*~
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter.  In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two toddlers.
Contact:
http://www.annabethalbert.com
http://www.twitter.com/annabethalbert
http://www.facebook.com/annabethalbert

 

 

 

What's On Tap This Week...

I'm taking a couple of days off for myself to read and write and snack on whatever I want!
Meanwhile the Crash Pad blog tour continues. Here's where you can find me:

On October 14^th: http://www.sarahmadisonfiction.com/ I'm answering personal questions for my good friend Sarah Madison.

On October 16^th: http://scwynne.wordpress.com/s-c-wynnes-wordpress/s-c-wynne-blog-posts/ Buddy S.c. is interviewing Jamie from Crash Pad. You can get details about nephews and snakes and Remy!

Here's where I would like to be:

 

 

My Sexy Saturday: Meet Jamie and Remy From Crash Pad

Welcome to the blog of Whitley Gray—cops and doctors in hot water. And My Sexy Saturday! Here are seven sentences from the novella Crash Pad. This is part of Jamie and Remy’s first meeting…

Remy pushed the headgear up far enough to reveal the skater’s eyes, but they remained shut. The brain bucket gave good protection, but a concussion wasn’t out of the question. “Can you open your eyes?”

Golden lashes lifted to reveal eyes the blue of a first-place ribbon. The guy reached up and yanked the helmet off, and for a moment Remy couldn’t move. The injured man had blond curls, plastered down into hat hair. A straight nose and full lips. Gorgeous. Wow. Just…wow.

“Argh,” moaned Gorgeous.

Nice doctor you are, ogling the injured patient. Shoving the improper thoughts away, Remy got back to work with his assessment. “Anything else hurt?”

“Knee,” the man muttered, lids closing over the world’s most gorgeous eyes. “Frickin’ ankle inside the skate.”

Fracture? With the skates, Remy couldn’t see a thing. Removing them would help, but the boot would keep a fracture splinted until they could get X-rays. The guy could move all four extremities. Other than a scrape on the left shin, everything seemed to be in working order. Remy pushed on the man’s hipbones, checking for pelvic fracture.

The man grabbed Remy’s wrists. “You should buy me dinner first, don’t you think?”

~*~
BUY: Loose Id   Amazon

LINK BACK to My Sexy Saturday for more great snippets!

 

 

Emergency Medicine Doctor Meets Massage Therapist: Crash Pad

Loose Id

If you've been here before, you know I like to write medical characters. Doctors, nurses, paramedics--it's all good.

A while back I set out to write a story about an accidental meeting between two men. What better way to have them meet than...an accident? A collision between a runner and a novice rollerblader made a nice premise, especially if the guy who you'd expect to cause the accident was in fact the collide. Even better if one guy was a doctor.

Welcome to the world of Dr. Remy Marshall and massage therapist Jamie Sullivan.

Here's an excerpt in Jamie's point of view:

THIS COULDN’T BE happening.

It just didn’t get more humiliating than this. In the park, on a cloudless day, being carried to a stranger’s car—no, to Dr. Marshall’s car—by the doctor and a female Good Samaritan. And he still had on the damn rollerblades because the MD suspected a fracture. Jamie had to admit, the intense throbbing in his left ankle tended to make him agree. At least going by private car was cheaper than an ambulance. Another group of kids, all giving him unabashed stares. Jamie closed his eyes. Nightmare.

“Almost there, Jamie.” Dr. Marshall spoke next to Jamie’s ear. At least he was cute. Jamie opened his eyes.

Oh no. Cupid, thy name is cruelty. Wending toward them, body moving sinuously in time with the music on his MP3 player, was the object of Jamie’s worship from afar: Cute Rollerblade Guy, fiery ponytail gleaming in the sun.

Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Skate right on by—

Cutie halted next to Dr. Marshall. “Hey. Need some help?”

Jamie’s rescue team paused, and he tried to sit up straighter. Hanging between two people, parked on the seat formed by their forearms—dignity really wasn’t possible. He smiled through clenched teeth.

“We got it,” said the woman. Her tone dared the guy to challenge her capability to haul injured men through the park.

“Big oops, huh?” Cutie pointed at Jamie’s scraped leg and throbbing ankle. “Looks bad.”

“Rollerblading injury,” Dr. Marshall snapped. No mistaking the disapproval in those words.

“Did you fall?” Cutie leaned forward, hands on knees. Tawny eyes met Jamie’s.

The man had dreamy peepers. “N-no, more of a collision.”

“You ran into someone?”

“Sh—sheesh, no. Someone ran into me.”

Dr. Marshall cleared his throat and looked away. “We’ve got to get going, get him to the ER for X-rays.”

The rescuers bounced Jamie up, resettling him in the two-person carry, and resumed their shuffling progress toward the parking lot.

Cutie tagged along, rolling next to the rescue team. “Hope you’ll be okay.”

Jamie tried, but an authentic grin wasn’t possible. “Sure.”

Flashing another stunning smile, Cutie executed a one-eighty and bladed off. Jamie attempted to enjoy the view of Cutie’s spandex-clad ass, but pain got in the way. He closed his eyes. Well, now he’d met Cute Rollerblade Guy. Only had to sacrifice an ankle to do it.

Mission accomplished.

~*~

Buy: Loose Id    Amazon

 

My Sexy Saturday: Meet Cobey and Michael from Artistic Endeavor

Welcome to the blog of Whitley Gray—cops and doctors in hot water. And My Sexy Saturday! Here are seven sentences from the novella Artistic Endeavor, part of the Higher Learning: Campus Cravings collection. This is the first kiss…

More. As Michael deepened the kiss further his pulse thundered in his ears, making him lightheaded as he got every taste he could. Cobey gave a soft moan and clutched at Michael’s shirt, pulling them together. With a stroke and thrust, Cobey explored Michael’s mouth.

No wonder those other guys had jumped Cobey.

This was no ordinary kiss. This was a prelude to bigger and sweatier things. Things that would be much more enjoyable without a gearshift in the way. His jeans were too tight, and it took everything he had not to discover whether Cobey was experiencing the same.

~*~

Artistic Endeavor is available as part of the Campus Cravings collection available at Amazon   Barnes and Noble

More about Artistic Endeavor:

When friends ask one-night stand connoisseur Michael Esteban to introduce college professor and virgin Cobey Miller to the joys of sex, Michael balks. Lust is his thing, not leading a twenty-five year old novice. But shy Cobey has problems meeting men, and their introduction fuels Michael’s decision to help Cobey become a gay-sex-loving guy. It’ll all be fun and games—unless someone falls in love.

www.whitleygray.com

LINK BACK to My Sexy Saturday for more great snippets!

 

Behind the Book: SC Wynne's Damaged Heart

I was trying to think what inspired me to write Damaged Heart. I tend to like damaged characters, and social misfits. I’m drawn to write and read about people who struggle to try and be normal, and find love when they themselves are wounded by their upbringing. I like to write these characters and then show them a way out.

My childhood and adolescence had a lot of drama and angst. Not to the extreme degree that my characters tend to grapple with, but most definitely it shaped my psyche in a way that has never left me. It made me guarded and untrusting.

I went through plenty of relationships where people hurt me or I hurt them. I played a lot of games when I was younger, never really wanting to get too close to people. I still find it hard to be really open with others until I feel I can a hundred percent trust them.

Ultimately I found a partner who accepts me as I am; someone who loves me unconditionally, quirks and all. That’s something my characters will always find as well. I think happy endings are essential for romance stories. At the very least HFN.

I’m so happy to be able to create these characters and tell their stories to the readers out there. Writing, and especially writing M/M, is one of the most enjoyable, satisfying things I’ve ever done.

EXCERPT:

He picked up the boy and held him in a relaxed manner. The miniature monster apparently didn’t freak him out in the least. “He looks like Lydia’s kid.” The hunk looked around the restaurant and called out to a waitress. “Is this Tyler?”

“What’s he doing out of his playpen? I’ll get Lydia.” The waitress disappeared into the back area.

“You know, he doesn’t bite,” the stranger said, studying me. The kid was trying to slap the man’s cheeks, and he avoided the child’s hands deftly.

“I know for a fact he has teeth. I saw them both,” I said, trying to regain some composure. It wasn’t easy with him standing so close to me. His blue jeans hugged his strong legs, and he smelled like fresh air and confidence. I wondered if his self-assurance would slip any if I flirted with him.

“Names Rhys Tucker.” He held out his hand.

I hesitated briefly before taking it. His skin was as warm and firm as I’d imagined, and my stomach had a little visit from some butterflies. “Cory Johnson.”

There was obvious recognition in his gaze, but then it was gone. “I knew that was you. We went to school together.”

“Did we?” I was certain I’d have remembered him. Though my school days were a depressing blur, I should recall knowing someone like Rhys.

“Briefly. You left a couple of months after I arrived.” He swallowed, and for the first time he looked nervous. Well, not as nervous as me, but I would take what I could get. “I was the new kid in town. Some of the other students were assholes to me, but you were different. You were kind.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Are you back for good?” He adjusted the cooing kid in his arms.

I shook my head. “Oh, God no.”

He frowned. “Not a fan of Bayville?”

I shrugged. “I prefer LA.” Obviously he’d had a different experience than I had growing up here.

A plump woman, who I assumed was Lydia, came hurrying up to us, her worried gaze locked on the child. “Tyler, you’re driving me nuts.” She took him from Rhys and laughed. “I’m sorry. I think he’s part monkey.”

“No, it’s fine. He didn’t hurt anything,” Rhys answered her. “He’s grown a bunch since I last saw him.”

Lydia hefted the kid on her hip and sighed. “He’s a handful; that’s for sure.” She turned her apologetic gaze on me. “I’m sorry if he interrupted your meal.”

What could I say, Thank you for that; he was pretty annoying? I decided to be polite instead. “It’s fine. You might want to get him a piece of bread. He seemed fixated on mine.”

“Yeah, he loves the carbs. That’s probably why he’s so huge.” She grinned and wandered away.

I kept silent, and Rhys met my stare, continuing to stand near me. Even with all the patrons in the bright little dining room, I had an odd compulsion to run my hand up his firm, jean-clad thigh. I wasn’t the kind of person who picked people up in restaurants, but I couldn’t help wishing I was more assertive that way. It might have been nice to have someone like him for a diversion while I was stuck here, but odds were he was straight.

“You must have kids. You seemed so relaxed with that little…boy.” I’d almost said creature.

“I don’t have kids. But I would love to one day.” He laughed, and the warmth of it washed over me. “I’m going to take a wild guess you aren’t yearning for a child of your very own.”

I grimaced. “Not really.”

For some reason he wasn’t leaving. He just kept hovering, and I was having the oddest reaction to his nearness. It almost felt like hunger. I racked my brain; how would a normal person behave? Would it be weird to ask him to join me? I enjoyed a flash fantasy of touching his hands, so near to me, and stroking the fine, dark hairs on his wrist. Instead, I sipped my soup self-consciously.

“So, you said you’re not staying permanently. But how long are you going to be here?” he asked, apparently in no hurry to get away.

“I’ll be here a couple of weeks for sure. Maybe longer. My mother passed, and I’m seeing about selling the house and things like that.”

“Yeah, I heard about your mom. My condolences.”

I didn’t say anything. I’m sure that wasn’t the normal response, but I couldn’t seem to drum up feelings on the matter. Or maybe I had too many feelings, and I wasn’t capable of processing them on the spot. I only knew she’d made my life a living hell. When I thought of her, it wasn’t grief that surged; it was anxiety mixed with resentment. I was a grown man, but if I was honest with myself, her death gave me a tiny bit of relief. She couldn’t hurt me anymore. I don’t know, maybe that made me seem odd, or heartless, but the awful reality was we hadn’t cared about each other when she was alive, so why start pretending now?

“Do you know when the funeral will be?” he asked.

I had a momentary thrill at the idea of running into him again, but unless I was going to hold a fake burial, there would be no opportunity for that. “She’s being cremated.”

He nodded. “Will you still have a memorial service of some sort?”

I guess that was what the average son would do, hold a poignant service and invite all our friends and family to wax poetic about what a wonderful wife and mother she’d been. However, we didn’t have any friends or family anywhere that I knew of. But most importantly Beatrice Johnson had been a horrible, heartless bitch of a woman, and there was no fucking way I would spend another dime or moment of my life on her memory. Not exactly something I was going to share with Rhys.

 

“No.” It was, after all, the truth.

 

Fortunately his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out before sliding his thumb along its face. “Work, sorry.” He smiled, looking back to me. “It was great seeing you again, Cory. Hopefully I’ll see you around before you leave.” His voice was like velvet, and he started to say something else but stopped. Then he smiled and walked away and out of the restaurant.

~*~

BUY:  Loose Id   Amazon

BIO:

S.C. Wynne started writing m/m in 2013 and did look back once. She wanted to say that because it seems everyone's bio says they never looked back and, well S.C. Wynne is all about the joke. She loves writing m/m and her characters are usually a little jaded, funny and ultimately redeemed through love.

S.C loves red wine, margaritas and Seven and Seven's. Yes, apparently S.C. Wynne is incredibly thirsty. S.C. Wynne loves the rain and should really live in Seattle but instead has landed in sunny, sunny, unbelievably sunny California. Writing is the best profession she could have chosen because S.C. is a little bit of a control freak. To sit in her pajamas all day and pound the keys of her laptop controlling the every thought and emotion of the characters she invents is a dream come true.

If you'd like to contact S.C. Wynne she is amusing herself on Facebook at all hours of the day or you can contact her at scwynne@dslextreme.com

 

 

My Sexy Saturday #59: Meet Beck and Zach from High Concept

Welcome to the blog of Whitley Gray—cops and doctors in hot water. And My Sexy Saturday! Here are seven paragraphs from the book High Concept, the first time Beck and Zach get intimate...

 

The exploration paused as Zach unbuttoned Beck’s shirt and pushed it off. The cool air of the room raised goose bumps, and a pleasurable shiver waltzed over his skin. Under Zach’s hands, the gentle inspection continued, and as Zach’s fingertips reached the scars covering his shoulder, Beck let out a shuddering breath. “’S okay. Doesn’t hurt.”

On this puckered skin, Zach’s touch brought a mix of pleasure and pain, like the agony before orgasm. Beck huffed a breath. Who knew that hypersensitivity could be erotic? Or was that because it was Zach’s hands on him? No one got to see the damage, never mind touch. Hell, Beck didn’t like to see the patchwork of skin and scar overlaying his joint and chest.

With an aching sweetness, Zach kissed the thick pink landscape of the scar, traced his tongue along the margins. And Beck melted. In the face of this tender care, all his reserve, his refusal to feel something other than lust, evaporated. As Zach kissed along his collarbone, soft hair tickled Beck’s throat, the strands carrying an echo of lemongrass aftershave. For a moment, the other man paused and rested his ear below the scars.

Oh, God. He’d hear how Beck’s heart was beating like a bass drum.

“Come here,” Beck whispered. He bit the sensitive area between Zach’s neck and shoulder, and Zach groaned. Beck soothed the mark with his tongue. He made quick work of the buttons on Zach’s shirt and pushed it off, revealing a sprinkling of blond hair.

Zach’s questing hands unbuckled Beck’s belt, slid to the base of his spine, and journeyed beneath his boxers, stroked the bare skin of his ass. Desire amped up. This was it—the need they’d ignored the last few days, circling each other, wanting but not acting. Beck ground their hips together, stiff cocks dueling through their clothing. The scrape on Beck’s cheek, the pain in his ribs meant nothing. Fucking had first priority.

He clutched Zach’s taut ass, kneading through the layers of clothing, gratified at the jut of the hard cock against his own. A sharp pinch on his left butt cheek made him jump, and Zach’s tongue thrust between his lips, bringing more of that unique taste. Intoxicating, these kisses, and it had nothing to do with the sweet remnant of spearmint flavoring Zach’s mouth.

 

~*~*~

HIGH CONCEPT is available at Loose Id,   AllRomance Ebooks, and Amazon.

More about High Concept:

Denver homicide cop and shooting survivor Beck Stryker lives to solve the case that left him with PTSD, chronic pain, and killed his co-investigator four months previous. Now his career hinges on his ability to work with the man who shut down his advances two years ago.

After last parting ways with Beck, psychiatrist-turned-FBI profiler Zach Littman never anticipated seeing the detective again. Being sent to Denver to work on a series of killings that have continued after the only suspect died is bad enough. Discovering the detective in charge is Beck leaves Zach gritting his teeth and girding his loins.

The last thing either of them needs is romantic entanglement with a fellow investigator, but danger is a powerful aphrodisiac. The case heats up, and friction between them ignites a fire neither can ignore, first at work and then in the bedroom. As they zero in on the plot behind the murders, the crosshairs zero in on Beck and Zach.

Whitley Gray

www.whitleygray.com

 

LINK BACK to My Sexy Saturday for more great snippets!