Author: Kimichan

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Guest Post by R Phoenix

Okay, confession time. I write M/M Dark Romance, Dark Erotic Romance, and Dark Erotica, but I don’t read a lot of M/M. I read even less M/M Romance. I know, I know, it’s blasphemy, especially with me coming in here and talking about what it’s like to write in this genre, but there you have it. I read everything, and I’m just as likely to recommend an epic fantasy novel as I am a M/M dark erotica novella or a YA contemporary book.

When I do read Romance/Erotica, I prefer M/M. I can’t even pinpoint why. I started writing almost exclusively male characters about a year ago, and since then, I’ve had a difficult time writing female ones. I’ll give almost anything a chance, though, because I believe everyone has a story to tell, and I want to see what it is. I have a fascination with characters and how they develop; the more flawed they are, the more I love them. The more nuanced they are, the more I want to read them.

I adore a good plot, and I am awed by good world-building, but at the end of the day, it comes down to the characters–which is probably why that’s where my focus is in my own books.

In my series, “Ripples in the Status Quo,” supernatural beings (aka supernaturals or “supes”) got uppity and decided they were too good to keep hiding. They weren’t interested in fighting for their rights or risking being massacred, though, so they did what any good villain does: they cheated. Vampires, werewolves, and witches worked together to ensure that there would be no resistance; they claimed roles of power, they bribed, blackmailed, and otherwise ensured that they’d have the right people on their side.

And then they struck down humanity in one fell swoop.

This was a decade ago, and the past ten years haven’t been kind to humans–or anyone who tries to protest how they’re treated: as pets, toys, food, entertainment, and all manner of terrible things. It’s considered treason, and sympathizers risk being declared legally human. It’s one step below actually being human, as slavery and death (rather than being sent off to live in some hellhole) are the only real options. Most don’t dare.

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The RISQ works center around characters who put themselves on the line and against the status quo. “Love is a weakness,” a character remarks in the first book. “Everyone claims they’d do anything for it. Let’s test the theory, shall we?” And that’s really what the books are about at their core. What would you do for love? Would you risk everything? What horrible things would you put yourself through to have even the chance for love in this sort of fucked-up world?

The first three books introduce some of the main characters–Jace and Elias, Ashton and Reese, Khaz and Noah–and they can be read as stand-alones in a longer series or in order. There are brief nods to the other characters in the first three, but their stories start to converge in Owned, which is the fourth book.

Each of my boys (except Elias because reasons) gets a chance to speak from his (third person limited) POV; we see the world through their eyes, and that’s the fun part for me as an author. I don’t want any of them to be perfect.

In Ravel, another character makes this observation:

“Humans didn’t dare experience love when a loved one could be easily taken away. They might go for a quick fuck in an alley or spend a night together beneath tattered blankets, but lasting relationships weren’t feasible. How could they be, when at any moment a vampire could come along and decide to turn one of them into his own personal juice box?

They’d end up falling prey to the same fate: sucked dry with the empty container tossed carelessly away.

Ash knew it and didn’t bother to deny it, but he hadn’t been able to eschew human contact completely despite his brave words. He had his close friends, and helplessly watching the number dwindle over the years hadn’t obliterated his need for some form of connection. It didn’t have to be sexual. It didn’t have to be perfect.

It simply had to be real—real, and powerful, and capable of giving him memories that would make the risk and heartache worth it.”

Ravel is the light in the darkness in particular; it’s the only book in the series right now that’s straight-up — er, well, not so straight, but you get the point — (Dark) Romance. (Bought and Owned are Dark Erotica; Recoil is Dark Erotic Romance.)

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The fifth book, Go, will introduce two new characters and give a little more background on the world; it’ll also bring in characters from the earlier books as well as continue to slowly advance the plot. Make no mistake: the series is primarily about the characters and their stories, with the overall “world plot” happening in the background. Because of this, please don’t expect any happily ever afters.

…I plan on writing several in the series, and I want to have more opportunities to torture my lovely darlings.

Thank you for reading! If this sounds like it’s your sort of thing, I hope you’ll check out the books. I hope, too, that you’ll love them and the characters as much as I do. (And stop threatening to set them on fire, damn it!)

-R. Phoenix.

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About the Ripples in the Status Quo Universe:

Dark M/M Paranormal Erotica, Erotic Romance, and Romance

The Ripples in the Status Quo works are set within a world where supernatural beings seized control from humans and relegated them to the bottom of the food chain. Used for food, entertainment, and worse, nothing protects them from the hands of those who claim them as slaves. But not everyone adheres to the status quo the world at large has accepted…

Please note that the RISQ world has little place for humanity, and as a result, content in these works may be offensive to some readers.

They can be read as stand-alones or as serials in a larger story.

The suggested reading order for the RISQ books is:

1. Bought. [Dark Erotica*]
2. Ravel. [Romance]
3. Recoil. [Dark Erotic Romance.]
4. Owned. [Dark Erotica*. Follows events in Bought and Recoil.]

*(This dark erotica work caters to those who cheer on the villains as they pursue their goals…no matter what it takes to get there. This includes Very Bad Things as well as Very Sexy Things.

Those with sensibilities will likely be offended and want to attack the author with flaming pitchforks. If this applies to you, save an author. Step away from the button.

Lightheartedness aside, this is dark erotica, and it does contain elements of depravity and cruelty that will be offensive to some readers. Please proceed with caution or skip this read.)

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Excerpt from Ravel: A Ripples in the Status Quo Story

When he fell right onto his ass in the middle of the floor, Ashton realized he’d ignored every single rational thought in his mind. Apparently, his instincts had had enough of him second-guessing them, because he hadn’t even decided to run!

I’m going to write a sternly-worded letter to the people who said these shoes were slip-proof!

At least, he would if he still had fingers to write with when he got out of this.

Of course, no one gives a fuck what a human thinks. They’ve made it crystal clear we’re only good for food, entertainment, or doing their dirty work. Maybe they’ll at least get a laugh out of it, because I sure as fuck won’t.

Then again, he did feel like he was going insane, so he might.

The fall had knocked the breath from his lungs, and stars danced before his eyes as he tried to figure out where the window had gone off to. Right as he remembered how to breathe, he heard a low growl emanating from a few feet away. The light flicked on overhead, blinding him all over again, and he yelped and started to scramble to his feet in the direction he thought his escape route was in.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! For fuck’s sake, when I said I needed to be fucked in a bad way the other day, it was a figure of speech, not a request!

“Oh, no you don’t,” a deep masculine voice rumbled, and before the last syllable could reach his ears, he felt the subtle weight of a foot atop his ribcage. At least, he thought it was a foot, even if he hadn’t thought they came in size behemoth. He slowly dragged his eyes up the body of the man it belonged to as they adjusted–again–to the shift in lighting. He realized with a sinking feeling it took longer than it should have to finally peer up at the man’s face.

He braced himself for seeing a creature of nightmare and legend; he thought he would see something truly hideous. When his eyes finally lifted enough to see the source of that voice, they widened and his mouth fell open.

Holy shit. What is he, a fucking Viking? Damn, I’d get down on my knees and worship him like he’s the motherfucking god of thunder.

If he stood on his tiptoes, Ash could probably run his fingers through the man’s tangled blond hair until every knot came loose, and then he could see if those pecs were worthy of being held to such a high standard. And after that…

Ash went still as the pressure on his chest increased in what he didn’t have to be a genius to know was a warning–which was a good thing, considering he obviously wasn’t. He could barely breathe, but his breathlessness had little to do with the pressure of the bare foot and everything to do with the sight of the face he could see in the dim light of the kitchen. “Do you model?” he asked weakly. “Because if you don’t, you really should.”

The man—the delectably muscular, rugged epitome of masculinity…damn it, Ash, he’s a fucking supe, and you’re about to die. Stop trying to guess the size of his dick because it ain’t what’ll be fucking you!—made a sound suspiciously like a laugh, and the weight of the foot on his chest lessened enough to let him suck in a much-needed breath.

“Want to tell me why you’re in my kitchen, little mouse, or should I just skip to playing exterminator?”
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Book Info:

Bought: A Ripples in the Status Quo Story [Dark Erotica]

When he agreed to take the fall for his pack leader’s failed attempts to help the Rebellion, Jace knew he wouldn’t live long enough to regret it. However, instead of the noble end he envisioned for himself, the werewolf finds himself at the mercy of a witch and his depraved games. Though he clings to his conviction that he can withstand anything his new master can dish out, it isn’t long before he realizes pride has no place in his life as the pet of the controlling Elias Ivers.

All Romance Ebooks: http://bit.ly/1q5WtBN

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1UQzTs4

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/22NLWsQ

iBooks: http://apple.co/1pLYdQC

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/22KJKSN

Ravel: A Ripples in the Status Quo Story [Romance]

For the past few years, Reese has hidden away in his home, refusing to venture out where he might have to face what reminds him of all that he’s lost. When Ashton, a human thief, breaks into his home one night, he doesn’t have a choice but to face the harsh truths of the world he’s turned his back on. He knows he supports the society monsters of myth and lore built upon the backs of humans through his silence, but the new leaders don’t tolerate sympathizers.

If a werewolf can’t act against the status quo without facing severe consequences, a human with Ashton’s cunning and experience circumventing supernatural predators certainly can’t risk drawing their attention. Their chance encounter leaves them both shaken and questioning whether they are living life as they were intended–or if surviving is really living at all.

All Romance Ebooks: http://bit.ly/1WTvG5Y

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1ShWKrT

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1W2c81c

iBooks: http://apple.co/1PLuhIQ

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UYIYPv

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/1M7wwvu

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Recoil: A Ripples in the Status Quo Story [Dark Erotic Romance]

In a world flipped upside down where the supernatural now rule over humans, a financially struggling vampire must face the ultimate attack on his humanity: breaking a mortal to slavery. Groomed to fight, the human is no easy picking, but Khaz has an ace in the hand in the form of an alluring magic many find impossible to resist.

Noah has spent the past ten years since the Takeover on the run. His entire life has been one of hardship and hatred, and he’s only survived by giving himself over to both. When a slaver gives him to a vampire to prepare him for auction, he’s sure he’ll hate his new captor every bit as much as he hates every other supernatural creature. The problem is…even the harsh lessons the Rebellion taught him couldn’t prepare him for someone like Khaz.

All Romance Ebooks: http://bit.ly/1MQP0AF

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/22aqgVu

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1qyfhtL

iBooks: http://apple.co/1VBxjGN

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1S91qQe

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/1WgxXdk

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Owned: A Ripples in the Status Quo Story [Dark Erotica. Follows Events in Bought & Recoil]

Release Date: 4/29/2016

Elias Ivers was promised a slave recently captured from the Rebellion, and it would have only been a matter of time before the witch broke a mere human. His new pet would have been a beautiful match to his already enslaved werewolf, and the potential information gain was not something he was willing to pass up. However, when Malkhaz takes what should have rightfully been his in a single hasty decision, Elias is determined to make the vampire pay. No one denies an Ivers witch what he wants–especially not someone who’s little more than dirt beneath his expensive shoes.

All Romance Ebooks: https://goo.gl/P5kYIR

Amazon US: http://goo.gl/Af9P4w

Barnes & Noble: (Not Available for Pre-Order/No Link Available Yet)

iTunes: https://goo.gl/P0UVzl

Kobo: https://goo.gl/j6uaLq

Smashwords: (Not Available for Pre-Order/No Link Available Yet)

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Author Bio:

R. Phoenix has an unhealthy fascination with contrasts: light and dark, heroes and villains, order and chaos. She believes that love can corrupt and power can redeem. Her muse is a sadomasochistic slavedriver who thinks it’s terribly amusing to give her the best ideas when she just got comfortable and warm in bed, and she passes on that torture to her readers.

If she had it her way, she would describe the books in her “Ripples in the Status Quo” world as: “Supernatural creatures take over the world and turn humans into pets and food. There’s some sex between guys. And… um… fucked up things happen.” It’s probably a good thing she has people around her to remind her that she actually wants people to read her books. (They should really be more diligent, especially when they know she’s writing her author bio.)

She’s an author, stay-at-home mother, housewife, second time college student, and duck herder extraordinaire. She’s learning how to cook without burning the house down, her garden is somehow neither drowning nor drying up, and one day she might remember what that mythical thing called “free time” is. She’s starting to wonder who thought it was a good idea to write bios in third person.

She also tries entirely too hard to be funny, and she mercilessly inflicts her terrible sense of humor upon anyone who speaks to her. Really, it’s not you. It’s her. All the same, she’d love it if you’d say hello, because it makes her day to hear that someone read something she wrote. If they enjoyed it, there’s usually an awkward happy dance and embarrassing sounds of joy to accompany it (no, not that kind of sound, you perv).

If all of that hasn’t scared you away, please visit her website at http://rphoenix.theupsideis.com/.

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Social Media Links:

Website: http://rphoenix.theupsideis.com/
Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/raissaphoenix
Facebook Profile: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100010806072760
Twitter: https://twitter.com/RaissaPhoenix
Tumblr: http://raissaphoenix.tumblr.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14741537.R_Phoenix
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/R.-Phoenix/e/B018WGE3GA/

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Rival Poet by Ingela Bohm with Guest Post and Excerpt

Kimi pic 3In hindsight, I guess it was inevitable. You don’t invite someone like Christopher Marlowe into your book without paying the price. Like his Doctor Faustus who sold his soul to the devil, I sold mine to Kit, and from that moment on I didn’t have one iota of control over my own story.
Kimi pic 2But hey, I was happy to hand over the reins. Kit charmed me as surely as he charmed Will. He had an irresistible combination of confidence and vulnerability that intrigued me. He said what he thought without fear, and yet he could keep a secret for decades. He was open about his orientation, allegedly saying things like “All they that love not tobacco and boys are fools”, even though at the time, this could get him hanged.
In Rival Poet, when Will is drawn in by Kit’s charisma, he thinks it’s just ordinary friendship. He thinks it’s just nervousness about meeting a famous playwright, even after half a year of getting to know the man. And when Kit tries to seduce him, he has no idea how to handle it. There’s no positive name for what he’s feeling – sodomite is the go-to term – and no clear-cut identity to wear.
And yet with time, Will does accept it. In some of his plays and poems, he even refers to same Kimi picsex attraction. When old enemies Coriolanus and Marcius meet under more auspicious circumstances, Marcius bursts out, “Know thou first, I loved the maid I married: never man sigh’d truer breath. But that I see thee here, thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart than when I first saw her bestride my threshold.”
That doesn’t sound entirely straight to me. Of course, we should be wary of reading authors into their characters, but in this case it’s just too darn tempting.
Take this sonnet:

A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,
Much steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.

Now, literature analysis is a many-splendoured thing, and no one person has the definite answer. But I think we can agree that the narrator compares the subject of the poem to a woman – he has a feminine face, gentle manners, and glittery eyes (aww…). Everyone adores him, regardless of gender. To begin with, he was even meant to be a woman, but when Nature fell in love with her own creation, she decided to make him a man.
And this is where it gets interesting. The narrator laments, “And by addition me of thee defeated, by adding one thing to my purpose nothing.” In other words, Nature added a cock to the mix, thus making the guy off limits.
Oh, but wait! “Nothing” was also slang for female genitalia at the time, so there could be a double meaning in there: namely, that said cock could serve the same purpose for the narrator as a woman’s bits.
Finally, in case the reader hasn’t yet caught the drift, the next to last line makes a pun, saying that Nature “prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure”. Need any help translating that? Filthy-minded bastard, that Will guy.
Now, I’m not saying this poem is about Kit or anything, not at all. What I am saying is that Kimi pic 4Shakespeare could identify with men who were attracted to men. Personally, I’m convinced that he was bisexual, but that’s just speculation. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, since we don’t really know anything about the man.
But the fact is, when I researched this book, I read a lot of Marlowe (Shakespeare I was already familiar with), and I was amazed at all the little echoes in their texts. Some people would argue that it was really Marlowe who wrote Shakespeare’s works (which I think is nonsense for reasons too numerous to list here). You could also argue that those echoes are just evidence of two professionals paying homage to and/or stealing from each other.
But how much more romantic is the idea that they were entwined soul to soul, their innermost thoughts reflected in each other, and that they wrote their plays in bed as an extension of their love-making?
Which is exactly what you get in Rival Poet. 😉

Paper, quill, & ink lit by candle
Paper, quill, & ink lit by candle

Blurb:

Even a genius can be a fool in love.

When young Will Shaksper arrives in London to peddle his poems, he has no idea what he’s in for. Meaning to stay for just a few days, he’s thrown completely off course when he meets Kit Marlowe. Charismatic and dangerous, this wunderkind of verse takes an eager interest in the newcomer. Before Will knows it, their shared passion for poetry has transformed into an attraction as irresistible as it is forbidden.
Because this is the sixteenth century. Love between men isn’t just frowned on, it can lead to the gallows. When Kit is called away on a state mission, Will does his best to suppress the feelings he doesn’t even have a name for.
But how can he write when his muse is gone? Why does Kit keep disappearing? And what’s the awful secret that makes his eyes echo with a lifetime of pain?

A fresh look at two of England’s brightest literary stars, this romance blends the authentic mood of Elizabethan London with contemporary dialogue to paint a love story that’s as alive today as it was four hundred years ago.

Excerpt:

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” His eyes searched Will’s face curiously, and for a moment Will was hit by the ridiculous thought that his poems had somehow preceded him, that rumour of his rejected writings had reached this man, this shooting star, this paragon of writers. But almost at once he realised that the question wasn’t to be taken literally. It was a pick-up line – a parody of a pick-up line, and therefore impossible to respond to without making an ass of himself.
He stared at the smirking man. “I-I know you,” he stammered stupidly, snippets of Amores and Dido clouding his brain.
Beside him Richard shifted, embarrassed. “Burbage.” He clasped Master Marlowe’s hand, or rather the two fingers not currently employed in elegantly balancing the pipe.
Marlowe smiled briefly. “I know.”
Richard looked stricken for a moment. “Oh, er… I’m, well I’m honoured, Sir – I mean…” His customary cool seemed to have been completely sucked out of him. “Ah… please meet my very good friend William Shakespeare.” He gestured towards Will, apparently eager to deflect the attention.
“Charmed, I’m sure.” Their new acquaintance laid his pipe on the table and enveloped Will’s hand with both of his. They were seething hot and Will almost yanked his hand back. “And please, call me Kit. All my little friends do.” He glanced at the confused trio still waiting for him in the corner.
“I’m such a fan,” Will blurted.
Obviously delighted at the praise, Kit pulled up a chair and sat down. Only when his hand dragged Will down with him did Will realise that he was still holding it. “So… you’re an aspiring dramatist, then?”
“Oh, I… no… well, that is…”
“Never mind.” Kit finally let go of Will’s hand and grabbed Richard’s mug. Realising that it was empty, he set it down again in vague disappointment. “Where are you from? You’re obviously not a Londoner.”
“Stratford.”
“Stratford?”
“Upon-Avon.”
“Never heard of it. Hah! So much for a university degree.” Kit lit his pipe again, seemingly in need of something to do with his hands. “Well, nothing of value was ever taught in such a ridiculous place. Come to think of it, maybe they did mention domestic geography at some point, but education and alcohol really is a detrimental combination! You can’t have one without the other, and yet one innocent drink takes away the whole performance. So, Stratford… a shit-hole, no doubt?”
“On the contrary,” Will protested. “It’s a beautiful place. I was reluctant to leave.”
Kit grinned broadly and slapped Will’s back. “Spoken like a true gentleman! Never let on how much in love you are with the big city, you might come across as a simpleton. Wax lyrical about the unpolluted countryside instead, and you’re automatically in, eh Robert?” He winked at one of his abandoned friends. The one presumably named Robert, a thin man with a straggly red beard, muttered something inaudible in reply. Kit immediately lost interest and turned to Will again. “You should work on that accent, though.”
“Wh… what’s wrong with it?”
“It’s bloody incomprehensible, that’s what’s wrong with it! You don’t think I got to where I am by speaking like a Canterbury ale taster, do you?”
Despite himself, Will chuckled. It was difficult not to be contaminated by Kit’s exuberant manner.
“Hey, you written anything I might know?”
Will hesitated. Was he being ironic again? “Well… not really… I’ve put together some poems, but…”
Kit snorted. “Poems! Stop right there, darling. Your shoes are growing too small for your feet by the minute, and you know it. Poetry and la-di-dah is all very well, but the theatre, now that is the future.”
Will smiled tentatively. “I can see why you’d say that.”
“Setting aside my own glorious self for a minute, think about it: not everyone can read. But even the most down and out hooker has ears, and they flock to the play-houses like simpering lords to Rhenish wine. As a playwright, you have the ear of the entire city – fuck it, you have the ear of the Queen herself! And a soliloquy is poetry in its own right. Only, getting your poetry read aloud by an artiste like Edward Alleyne… not to demean you, sir,” he looked briefly in the direction of Richard, “… that just makes it so much… grander! It’s almost better than sex.”
Will nodded slowly, his mind awash with images of said Alleyne tearing the stage apart in his bloodied shirt. But he didn’t dare compliment Master Marlowe – Kit – on his intimidating talents, for fear of being taunted. Instead he mumbled, “I don’t have the imagination.”
Kit shook his head impatiently. “Don’t be stupid. Stories are ten a penny. It’s what you do with them that counts. It’s all the same crap anyway, life and love and death, blah blah blah. Use whatever’s around, that’s what we all do.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Look, when people just buy and read your stuff, you never get to see how your words seduce them. Wouldn’t you like to hear the sea-surge of applause?”
Will felt the dangerous tug of Kit’s imagery and protected himself with feigned annoyance. “I’m sure it’s all very exhilarating, but I’m quite serious when I say that I can only write poetry.”
Kit hesitated, and then shrugged. “So what? We’re the makers of manners, puppy. And verse makes for excellent crutches. That’s why you begin by writing speeches.”
What’s it to you? Will wanted to ask. Instead he said, “I just don’t know how to translate the stories that I love into dialogue. I read something and I’m inspired, you know, but when I try to write, it comes out poetry. I can’t bridge the gap. I can make poetry out of stories, but I can’t make stories out of poetry.”
Kit smiled. “That’s just the kind of phrase that makes me wish you could. You have the art of rhetoric down pat – God knows how you’ve managed to pick that up from your provincial education! All you have to do is push the boat out, and I’m here to help you with that.”
Will frowned at his assailant. Just a few minutes ago, he had been wilting like a dead man in his lonely corner, for all the world like someone who had just lost his whole fortune, and now he was a veritable river of words. “Why do you care anyway?”
Kit looked stricken, but just for a moment. “Well… why did you want to meet me, if not to further your career?”
“I didn’t! I was leaving, it was you who… Ask Richard!”
Kit glanced without interest at Will’s silenced companion. Then he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, put it in his belt and blew the last cloud of smoke into Will’s face. “Tell you what. Why don’t you write a speech about…” He turned to his morose-looking friends who must have given up hope of his company by now. “Robert! You said you needed some kind of soliloquy, didn’t you?”
“What?” The red-bearded man flung up defensive hands. “No, I don’t need any help.”
“Yes you do, shut up. It was Constance, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“Yes, it was, don’t lie to me.” Kit turned to Will again. “He needs this pompous speech, you know, anguished ramblings of the tragic heroine and all that… and he has trouble connecting with his feminine side. His women come off as wooden statues. Don’t they, Robert? Now you, on the other hand,” Kit grabbed a lock of Will’s hair and twisted it between his fingers. “You are surely very good at identifying with girls, am I right?”
Will stared at Kit’s face, suddenly so close to his. This man had no personal space. “Oh, I don’t know… I mean, of course I took on roles at school, but…”
Kit laughed. “And I would have loved to see them! So you’ll submit something?”
“I…” Will looked over Kit’s shoulder at the fuming writer in the corner. “I don’t know, he doesn’t seem to…”
Kit scoffed. “Don’t pay any attention to Robert! He expects me to help him out – he doesn’t see the difference, poor sod, doesn’t realise how glaringly obvious the shift is, from his language to mine, I mean, honestly! But maybe if you wrote it instead, as a fellow amateur your text wouldn’t jar so much against his.”
“We don’t know him,” Robert complained. “He could be worthless.”
“Don’t be so inconsiderate, Robert! We won’t know his worth until we let him try. Besides, we need some new blood. If his text is good enough, you two could even collaborate on something. Or at least he gets to show that no-good printer of his what he missed, and that’s as noble a mission as anything, right?”
Will made a face. So he had been listening in.
“Hey Will, wouldn’t that be great?” Kit implored. “When you’re a famous playwright he’ll come crawling back, begging you to grace his worthless printing house with your immortal poetry!”
Will looked down at the table, striving to hide his smile. “Okay…”
Kit cocked his head. “Okay?”
“Yes, okay. Just to shut you up, mind you.”
Kit grinned broadly. “You’re in good company, my friend. Many a thing has been done just to shut me up.”

Find Rival Poet at:

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00X507Z1O

Barnes & Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rival-poet-ingela-bohm/1117351825?ean=2940152307849

iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/rival-poet/id1022361270?mt=11

Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/540269

All Romance Ebooks https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-rivalpoet-1796386-148.html

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The Kitchen Boy by Augusta Li

kitchenboy

From Dreamspinner:

Kitchen servant Yoli is one of only three men who know a carefully guarded secret about High Commander Koehen, the brilliant general who united their lands against a common invader. The enemy wants that secret, and they are willing to use either kindness or cruelty to obtain it.

Yoli must decide if his loyalties lie with the commander, who has shown him more affection than anyone in Yoli’s life, or with his own best interests. High Commander Koehen’s attention is capricious at best—he summons Yoli only when it is convenient for him, and Yoli knows there’s little hope of a future together. Is a glimmer of a hope for love worth sacrificing a chance for prosperity beyond his wildest dreams?

 

Kimi’s thoughts:

This is a re-release, having been previously published by Silver with a different cover. I’m glad Dreamspinner rescued the title because it’s a sweet fantasy tale that follows the emotional and personal growth of both Yoli and Commander Koehen. Koehen’s attentions often seem to be elsewhere, his pre-occupation being on the battles he and his men face. Yoli loves him unconditionally, never seeing Koehen’s needs as weaknesses though hoping that one day the Commander will see him for himself and not just as a convenient outlet for relief.

When Yoli becomes unwittingly embroiled in an enemy plot , he faces temptations that he’s never had to face before. His purity of heart  gives him a point of view regarding the men on both sides of the conflict that ultimately goes on to shape his future in ways he would never have guessed. Koehen’s response to the plot, both professional and personal, likewise  have far-reaching consequences for himself, Yoli, and the kingdom. I would have liked to have gotten to read a bit more about the wizard and Koehen, especially since the plot hints at changes to come for the wizard as well, who is himself a lonely soul. Even so, it was a very satisfying read and so Kimi gives it a solid 4 stars.

Rating:4

kimisig

 

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Inside God’s Arms Season 1 (Yaoi Manga): A Room Filled With Love by Nekota Yonezou

iga1

Reno’s got a new roommate and his name is Roger Brower. His nickname is “Casanova” and there are rumors that he sells his body for money. Soon after arriving he asks Reno if he can leave the room for 3 hours once every 2 to 3 days so he can have sex with his clients, and Reno realizes the rumors are true. He tells Reno that he’ll give him some of the money he makes as payment for renting out the room for that time. Reno reluctantly agrees and everything is going just fine until the day he accidentally walks back into their shared room and is confronted with the sight of Roger having sex with one of his customers.

Kimi’s thoughts:

The art is stunningly beautiful and the storyboarding is as well done as you’d expect from a mangaka as experienced as this one. She’s the author of several djs as well as a seasoned mangaka who has been published by Japan’s Libre Publishing. The story is based on tropes fans of the genre will recognise, but it’s well done and the translation has panache though the editor could have helped smooth out some awkward phrasing here and there a bit better.

There is some whiting out of anatomy in accordance to Japan’s more recent censorship laws, but it doesn’t take away from the passion that leaps from the page. The facial expressions during the sex scenes are decidedly hot and the protagonist definitely falls into the bishie with glasses category no matter what scene he is in. It is a short read, the first of six volumes, but unlike many printed manga to e-book conversions, this one reads easily on the Kindle’s display (no doubt helping add to the “Oh no, it’s over so soon”feeling) so it is a pleasurable read all the way round.

Buy from Amazon

Rating: 4

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Withered + Sere Tour with Guest Post by TJ Klune

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The Joys of Crack and Dust
Or,
Why I went Apocalyptic

I did something no one else has ever done.
I wrote a book set in a post-apocalyptic future.
I know, I know.
You’re in awe.
Tj! you’re thinking. How did you come up with such a novel idea?
And therein lies the problem.
Post-apocalyptic, dystopian futures, all of this has been done before. It’s like that saying goes, that there’s nothing new under the sun. Tropes are tropes for a reason. Look at The Hunger Games. Look at the video game series Fallout. Look at Mad Max. Or I Am Legend. Or The 100. Or Book of Eli. Dawn of the Dead. Battle Royale. The Road (which, if you haven’t read this book by Cormac McCarthy, do it. It’s one of the best things ever). 28 Days Later. The Stand (Stephen King’s best work, in my opinion). Resident Evil. The Last of Us.
Whether it be nuclear bombs, or disease, or zombies, or humanity’s rage, the world falls, civilization crumbles, and we are left with little pockets of humanity across a scarred landscape who are usually embroiled in a battle against Forces of Evil (i.e. new government, old government, crazy motherfuckers, zombies, crazy motherfucking zombies).
So it’s all be done before. It really, really has.
And here I was, a writer of cracky man love who sometimes who could write angst, comedy, drama, and who occasionally dabbled into something darker. Here I was, thinking, okay, but if it’s all been done before, could I actually do something that was any different?
I knew, going into writing Withered + Sere, that it was going to be a massive undertaking. This world I created would be large, and would be populated by good people and evil people, and people whose moral compasses were firmly planted in the gray. I also knew going into it, that the only way I’d actually be able to do this post-apocalyptic story would be if I could put my own unique spin on it.
Let’s be real. There are people out there who’ve written stories about the end of the world that are far better writers than I could ever hope to be. I know this. I understand this. I don’t know if I could ever even be even remotely close to their level. But it didn’t stop me from trying.
I wanted to see what happened if I ended the world. If civilization did crumble, if billions of people did die, what would I do with what remained? Would I have anything new to add?
I think I did. I hoped I did. I don’t mean that to sound conceited or self-involved, either. Honestly. Given that this was so far from anything I’d ever done before, I knew that I needed to end the world in a way that was distinctly Klune but not devolving into the crack that I’m known to write. The dialogue here is sparse because the main character, Cavalo, doesn’t like to talk much. He doesn’t want to talk much. The other main character, Lucas, can’t talk, given some mysterious injury he’d sustained sometime in the past.
I love dialogue. I love writing people talking and snarking back and forth.
I love it so much, that to make this story different than anything I’d done before, I didn’t allow myself to fall back into the slinging of words. By taking away one character’s ability to speak at all, it forced me to find other ways to communicate, to relay the story without the crutch of vocalizing my point. And I did, though it was in ways I wasn’t expecting when I first started, and I like to think it adds another layer to the story, that it leaves it up to the reader to decide if Cavalo is actually having the conversations he thinks he’s having, or if it’s just a product of his imagination, that he’s getting response he’s thinking he should get.
And, of course, there’s the end of the world. The landscape, the remains of what once was. When you have a post-apocalyptic story, one of the most important characters you can have is the landscape. Is there the futuristic sheen of a dystopian society? Or is there the grunge and grime of a ravaged society?
I wanted to go with the grunge and the grime. I wanted to get motherfucking dirty in this book. By the time the W+S and its sequel, Crisped + Sere, are finished, I wanted the reader to feel the dirt under their fingernails, the dust in their throat. The setting is as important as the main characters, because if the setting isn’t believable, then it runs the risk of ruining the story as a whole.
I had fun with this, creating this dirty, dirty world. The landscape is dotted with hints of the past, from burn out husks of cars and billboards for personal injury attorneys, to the way the people who remain live their lives.
And that, to me, is the crux of these two books. The reader is told at the beginning that a hundred years have passed since the world ended. The idea that I couldn’t shake while writing this would be how would those people live their lives? Would they act completely different than we do today? Or would they still cling to what they’d been taught by those who came before them? We are ingrained with years on how a human being should act. I find it fascinating to think about how people would attempt to go on with business as usual, even if they don’t necessarily understand why they think that. It’s what they were taught by those who came before them. Those people were taught by those who came before them, and those are the ones that lived and loved in a bright and shiny world, and they passed down their traditions and mannerisms, and I think that those things would continue, even after the world ended. We act as we were taught. Yes, we learn from new experiences, but we are still human, and there are centuries of life before us that we draw from. We do the things we do because we were taught how to do them, even if we don’t realize it.
So. I hope you’re ready to get down and dirty with me. Because we’re about to crawl through the mud.

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Withered + Sere Blurb:
Once upon a time, humanity could no longer contain the rage that swelled within, and the world ended in a wave of fire.

One hundred years later, in the wasteland formerly known as America, a broken man who goes only by the name of Cavalo survives. Purposefully cutting himself off from what remains of civilization, Cavalo resides in the crumbling ruins of the North Idaho Correctional Institution. A mutt called Bad Dog and a robot on the verge of insanity comprise his only companions. Cavalo himself is deteriorating, his memories rising like ghosts and haunting the prison cells.

It’s not until he makes the dangerous choice of crossing into the irradiated Deadlands that Cavalo comes into contact with a mute psychopath, one who belongs to the murderous group of people known as the Dead Rabbits. Taking the man prisoner, Cavalo is forced not only to face the horrors of his past, but the ramifications of the choices made for his stark present. And it is in the prisoner that he will find a possible future where redemption is but a glimmer that darkly shines.

The world has died.

This is the story of its remains.

Available at:
Dreamspinner Press Publications: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/withered-sere-by-tj-klune-240-b

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Withered-Sere-Immemorial-Year-Book-ebook/dp/B01DL351LU

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/withered-sere-tj-klune/1123602027?ean=2940157776459

Withered + Sere Blog Tour:
April 12 – MM Good Book Reviews
April 13- My Fiction Nook
April 18 – Just Love Romance
April 19 – Divine Magazine
April 19 – Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words
April 19 – The Novel Approach
April 20 – Kimi-chan Experience
April 21 – It’s About the Book
April 21 – Love Bytes
April 22 – Prism Book Alliance

When TJ Klune was eight, he picked up a pen and paper and began to write his first story (which turned out to be his own sweeping epic version of the video game Super Metroid—he didn’t think the game ended very well and wanted to offer his own take on it. He never heard back from the video game company, much to his chagrin). Now, over two decades later, the cast of characters in his head have only gotten louder. But that’s okay, because he’s recently become a full-time writer, and can give them the time they deserve.
Since being published, TJ has won the Lambda Literary Award for Best Gay Romance, fought off three lions that threatened to attack him and his village, and was chosen by Amazon as having written one of the best GLBT books of 2011.
And one of those things isn’t true.
(It’s the lion thing. The lion thing isn’t true.)
Facebook: TJ Klune
Blog: tjklunebooks.blogspot.com
E-mail: [email protected]

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Planting His Dream Blog Tour with Excerpt and Guest Post by Andrew Grey

PlantingHisDream

Planting his Dream
Thanks you Kimi-chan for having me. It’s so great to be here to talk about Planting His Dream. In almost every story there is a message and this story is all about the dream. Javi is the child of migrant workers and he’s moved from place to place his entire life. He’s picked and brought in crops of every kind. He’s used to blending into the landscape, so when he makes a suggestion and Foster, the farm owner listens and takes his suggestion, he’s surprised. No one ever listens to him and his opinion is never requested until Foster.
Javi doesn’t have dreams. No one listens and they’re useless anyway because he sees his entire future in front of him and nothing changes. So when Foster asked and he answers that he doesn’t have a dream, somehow it becomes Foster’s mission to show him that there is more to the world and to life. I have never written a character without dreams before and it was an eye opening experience. I really hope you fall in love with Javi and Foster the way I did.

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: April 11 2016
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
Blurb/Synopsis:
Foster dreams of getting away, but after his father’s death, he has to take over the family dairy farm. It soon becomes clear his father hasn’t been doing the best job of running it, so not only does Foster need to take over the day-to-day operations, he also needs to find new ways of bringing in revenue.
Javi has no time to dream. He and his family are migrant workers, and daily survival is a struggle, so they travel to anywhere they can get work. When they arrive in their old van, Foster arranges for Javi to help him on the farm.
To Javi’s surprise, Foster listens to his ideas and actually puts them into action. Over days that turn into weeks, they grow to like and then care for each other, but they come from two very different worlds, and they both have responsibilities to their families that neither can walk away from. Is it possible for them to discover a dream they can share? Perhaps they can plant their own and nurture it together to see it grow, if their different backgrounds don’t separate them forever.

Excerpt:

Foster jumped, dropping the hose. He hadn’t expected anyone.
“Sorry,” Javi said as he stepped forward. He was soaked to the skin, and Foster guessed he’d walked over. “I need some work.” He shuffled his feet nervously. “Things have not gone well.”
Foster had guessed that. “Can you hose down the floor and milking stations?” Foster wondered how Javi kept from shivering, but he picked up the hose and started cleaning everything. Foster went to work on the milking machines, making sure they were spotless. “Mop the floor in the milk room too.” Foster figured he might as well get a leg up on his chores. He went to the loft and brought down some hay for the feeders along with the protein supplements. He added some silage, as well, to sweeten the mixture.
The rain had let up by the time he was done, and Foster pulled out his wallet and handed Javi some cash for the work he’d done. Javi shoved the bills into his pocket. Foster wanted to ask him what had happened and why they were so desperate, but the pride Foster saw in Javi’s eyes told him he could ask, but that answers wouldn’t be forthcoming.
“Do you need help tomorrow?” Javi asked.
Foster wasn’t going to be able to afford someone to help him all week, but he found himself nodding anyway. He knew his mother and grandmother would try to help them any way they could, so it was best to let Javi work and earn the money he needed to help his family. Foster knew that machismo, male pride, was huge in Latino culture. Getting Javi to take charity would be difficult. “If it’s nice, the garden will need to be tended and weeded.” After all the rain, what they’d planted would sprout overnight. “You can also help me shift the hay in the loft to help make room for the new cuttings.”
“I’ll get here early.”
“Do you want a ride back?” Foster asked. Javi shook his head. He left the barn, jogged out to the road, and then down toward the field. Foster watched him the entire time, enjoying the smooth way he moved. He had to force himself to turn away. He shouldn’t be having thoughts like this. He went back in the barn up to the loft and started the process of cleaning and shifting the hay. Moving the heavy bales was just the ticket to work away these thoughts about the gorgeous farm worker.
He retrieved the remaining wayward bales of hay from the edges and corners, placing them near the chute to the main floor, stacking them neatly and then going for more. Foster hated that he had these feelings. He’d heard since he was a toddler all about the evils of alcohol, smoking, and many more prohibitions from the front of the church. More than once he’d heard the prohibition about men lying with men and had sworn the minister had been looking right at him and could see into his soul. In the last year he’d been able to find a lot of chores that had to be done, so he hadn’t been going to church as often. In a roundabout way, he felt better not hearing that he was a godless sinner all the time.
“Foster,” his mother called up. “Your grandmother and I are going to town. Do you need anything?”
He checked his watch and realized he’d been working for hours. “Some snacks would be nice.” He climbed down. “When will you be back?”
“About an hour. We’ll make dinner then.” She left, and Foster went about the process of getting ready for milking, thinking that this was a much easier job with two people, but it was only him, so he might as well get to it. Besides, the work gave him something to think about other than the same set of eyes, light caramel-brown skin, and full lips that had stayed in his mind now for nearly a year. Part of him wished that Javi and his family hadn’t contacted his father about working. Then he wouldn’t be reminded of how he felt and could go on with his life. Not that he knew if Javi felt the same way.
He let in the first half the herd and started the milking process, noting the cows that were going to be getting ready to calve soon. He kept detailed records and made notes in his mind regarding when he’d need to separate them into the calving pens. The work never ended, and Foster got to it, finished the milking, cleaned up the barn, and went inside to have dinner. Afterward, he checked that everything was all set for the night before spending a quiet hour before going up to bed.
That night, as he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, tired and worn out, his mind would not let up. All he kept seeing was Javi, worn and hungry looking, at least to start. It didn’t take long before his mind put Javi, not smiling, his eyes filled with heat, standing near him, pulling off his shirt and then tugging at Foster’s. Javi pulled him close, their chests touching, breath heaving, lips finally exploring. The funny thing was that other than on the cheek, Foster had never kissed anyone, not the way that Javi kissed him in his fantasies, like he was reaching down deep to Foster’s heart and soul. As heated as he became, Foster shook his head and put a stop to his fantasy. This was not helping him. He needed to be strong.

 

Author Information

Andrew grew up in western Michigan with a father who loved to tell stories and a mother who loved to read them. Since then he has lived throughout the country and traveled throughout the world. He has a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and works in information systems for a large corporation.
Andrew’s hobbies include collecting antiques, gardening, and leaving his dirty dishes anywhere but in the sink (particularly when writing) He considers himself blessed with an accepting family, fantastic friends, and the world’s most supportive and loving partner. Andrew currently lives in beautiful, historic Carlisle, Pennsylvania.
Author Links
Amazon Author Page
Barnes and Noble Page
Dreamspinner Press
Facebook
Facebook Group All the Way with Andrew Grey
Goodreads
Twitter
Website

For Other Works by Andrew Grey
(Please Be Sure To Stop by His Website to See All of His Works)