I’d like to thank the generous Gabrielle Bisset for having me on her blog today. This being release day for me and all, please forgive the shaky typing. Does it ever get old the jitters and butterflies?
Today’s release is especially nerve-wracking as it’s my first M/M piece. Though I’ve pubbed another M/M short before, that was included in an anthology, buffered by other talented authors.
Now I’m on my own and seriously the heat, it burns.
I took my concerns to Mr. A, who really should get a medal or something for holding my hand and talking me off ledges. A saint. I told him my fears and he asked this: What do your readers expect from you?
I had to pause for a minute and really think. What do readers expect from me? What have I put out so far that keeps them buying my books and reading? Clearly there’s an expectation of some kind, otherwise why would you buy, right?
Here’s my thoughts on it and what I ultimately told Mr. A. From the author’s viewpoint, I think readers buy my books with an expectation of an awesome read, a way more than necessary helping of the bumping of uglies, funny, strong, and decisive heroines, and delicious men willing to take them on a ride.
That what the author thinks. Naturally, I may be off my bloody rocker with that one.
From the reader’s viewpoint, I expect well written stories from my reads. Stories with heroines with backbones, with men willing to risk it all, and a way more than necessary bumping of the uglies.
Stay tuned for verdict on whether or not the reader and author in me has our needs met.
Make Me Burn- BLURB~ It’s been months since Wes Dumont laid eyes on Jayce Santana. Since Jayce kissed him and then left town without a word. Wes tried hard to put the tattered pieces of his heart back together, but another failed relationship makes it clear he’s nowhere near over Jayce. Now Jayce is back, once again tilting Wes’ world on its axis and setting his blood boiling. All the anger and resentment doesn’t hide the hunger, but Wes has been burned before and he’s grown wary of Jayce’s intentions.
Jayce has been running, from Wes and himself, denying the future he sees in the depths of Wes’ eyes. His past still haunts him, but he’s back, ready to fight. Ready to claim Wes the way he should have. Only Wes isn’t making things easy. Both men just may go up in flames before Jayce convinces Wes he’s playing for keeps.
EXCERPT-PG17 *Some language*
“Well. Well. Well.”
Wes’ eyelids fluttered at the drawl. “Hmm. What…” He stretched achy arms over his head and blinked the sleep out of grainy eyes. “Where—”
“Are you?” The disembodied voice moved from above his head to further away as someone straddled his midsection. “You fell asleep on the couch. Fully dressed.” Laughter warred with the censure in his tormentor’s voice. “That Italian is wearing you out, is he?”
“Ever!” Wes’ eyes flew open. “Stop calling him that.”
His best friend’s green eyes danced with mirth. She cupped his jaw and leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. “What should I call him?”
“You know his fucking name.”
“Dominic. Oh, Dominic,” she sang shrilly. “He must be something else the way he leaves his stamp on you.”
Wes refrained from threatening to ring the little troublemaker’s neck. “What stamp and why aren’t you with whatshisface?” He rose up on his elbows and winced at the pain in his lower back and his…damn, the right side of his neck burned.
Ever sat up. “Simon’s busy, and I’m talking about that huge-ass hickey on your neck. I think it can be seen from space.” She chortled at her attempt at funny.
“What hickey?” He brought a hand up to cup his neck, the area that stung. The area where Jayce… “Oh, God!” Wes bucked. Ever scrambled off his lap and he leaped off the couch, running for the downstairs bathroom. Flicking on the overhead light, Wes crowded the mirror, turned his neck, and squinted.
The hickey stood out bright red on his neck, roughly the size of a quarter.
“That bastard. The fucking bastard, I’ll kill him.” Shame washed over him at how quickly he’d succumbed to the heat of Jayce’s arms. How wantonly he’d behaved when he knew better.
Knew the risks.
To his heart.
l always wanted to have a sexy bio, one to reflect who I am, but after drawing a blank, l could only come up with: I eat cake and I read books…ooh, and I write ‘em too. No one liked it and after massive peer-pressure and pouting, I managed something more…suitable?
A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Brooklyn, N.Y with a tolerant Spousal Equivalent. Together they raise an eccentric daughter who loves reading and school (not so much school anymore). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing plot points of The Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother
Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Av remains a believer of love in all its forms.
Friend Avril on: http://www.facebook.com/writeravrilashton