Sunday, March 17, 2019
Sunday's Short Stack: The Forever Kind of Love by LA Bryce
Title: The Forever Kind of Love
Author: LA Bryce
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: March 2, 2019
Publisher: JMS Books
You never forget your first love ... especially when they cause you pain. Chase thought he was doing the right thing when he left Liam years earlier, but when he finds out he was wrong, it might be too late. The trust they once shared may be past the point of repair.
The Forever Kind Of Love is a story of second chances that asks the question -- is a good reason enough to wash away the years of hurt it caused? Chase comes home from the military ready to start his life with Liam. But he discovers Liam’s life has already started without him. Is there a place for him in it? Is the possibility of more pain worth the risk for Liam?
If that isn’t hard enough, they only have the week Chase is on leave to come to terms with their future. Can they find forever in seven days?
We all have moments in our lives or things we've said that we wish we could do over or get a another chance at so when a "second chance at love" story comes across my reading radar there's just something so real and inviting about it. The Forever Kind of Love is a perfect example of second chances because Chase did what he thought was best and even though most of us probably agree with why he did it, the "how" is debatable as to right or wrong. I completely understand Liam's anger and resistance to understand and I love how he doesn't make it easy for Chase to make amends.
The Forever Kind of Love is a short story that may have been even better had it been a full length novel but sometimes we don't have to experience the "whole story" to be entertained so I can't imagine it any different or better than as is. LA Bryce is a new author for me and I can't imagine a better tale to grab my attention. Forever is heartbreaking but equally heartwarming, definitely a must for lovers of second chances and an absolute must for those looking for a well written tale of romance. It may be short on quantity but The Forever Kind of Love is certainly not short on quality.
Liam walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the salads he planned to bring to the backyard. He put them on the counter, then headed to the linen closet where Mrs. Alston said she had put the extra napkins. He walked into the hall, and stopped short. Bending down on his knee, he tied his opened shoelace.
The sound of a deeply inhaled breath had him looking up. His body started to shake. Unable to hold his balance, he tipped over. “Chase.” The name was out of Liam’s mouth before he could stop.
The other man stood silently, looking almost like a mirage. Liam couldn’t break his stare.
Someone calling Liam’s name snapped him out of the fog surrounding him.
“Liam, are you in here?”
Before Liam could answer, Phil was standing behind him, bending down. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
Not giving Liam a chance to answer, Phil put his hands on Liam and pulled him up. “Did you fall?”
Again, before Liam could say a word, Phil looked at Chase with a scowl on his face. “Did you knock him over?”
Chase didn’t say a word. He stood where he was, his eyes going between Liam and the man who currently held him.
“Come on,” Phil said, as he turned Liam around and walked him back to the kitchen.
Still in shock, “Napkins,” was the only word that would come out of Liam’s mouth.
“Where are they, hon? I’ll get them for Sharon.”
Liam pointed toward the hall. Phil headed back that way. Liam heard him say, “Be careful where you’re walking,” to Chase as Phil passed him by. The tone of Phil’s voice sounded none to friendly. Liam couldn’t help, but smile. Phil, his little protector. If only Phil knew who Chase was, and what he’d done to Liam four years earlier, Chase wouldn’t have a chance.
Liam stood in the kitchen in somewhat of a daze when Mrs. Alston walked in. Why hadn’t she told me Chase was coming home? Then he realized maybe she didn’t know. Which meant at that moment she had no idea Chase was there.
Finding his voice, Liam said, “Mrs. Alston there’s a surprise for you and Mr. Alston in the hallway.”
As soon as the woman passed him, headed to the hall, on shaky limbs, Liam made himself scarce. He headed back outside; he wanted to avoid becoming part of the hug fest he knew would be taking place any second.
He made his way over to Mr. Alston. “Mrs. Alston needs your help inside,” he said, not wanting to spoil Chase’s surprise for the man. Mr. Alston turned around and walked into the house. Within seconds, Liam heard screams of happiness floating from inside.
Liam wanted nothing more than to leave, but taking off after all Mr. and Mrs. Alston had done for him was something he knew he couldn’t do. But knowing he’d have to face Chase again almost had him saying fuck it to doing the right thing.
The sound of a deeply inhaled breath had him looking up. His body started to shake. Unable to hold his balance, he tipped over. “Chase.” The name was out of Liam’s mouth before he could stop.
The other man stood silently, looking almost like a mirage. Liam couldn’t break his stare.
Someone calling Liam’s name snapped him out of the fog surrounding him.
“Liam, are you in here?”
Before Liam could answer, Phil was standing behind him, bending down. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
Not giving Liam a chance to answer, Phil put his hands on Liam and pulled him up. “Did you fall?”
Again, before Liam could say a word, Phil looked at Chase with a scowl on his face. “Did you knock him over?”
Chase didn’t say a word. He stood where he was, his eyes going between Liam and the man who currently held him.
“Come on,” Phil said, as he turned Liam around and walked him back to the kitchen.
Still in shock, “Napkins,” was the only word that would come out of Liam’s mouth.
“Where are they, hon? I’ll get them for Sharon.”
Liam pointed toward the hall. Phil headed back that way. Liam heard him say, “Be careful where you’re walking,” to Chase as Phil passed him by. The tone of Phil’s voice sounded none to friendly. Liam couldn’t help, but smile. Phil, his little protector. If only Phil knew who Chase was, and what he’d done to Liam four years earlier, Chase wouldn’t have a chance.
Liam stood in the kitchen in somewhat of a daze when Mrs. Alston walked in. Why hadn’t she told me Chase was coming home? Then he realized maybe she didn’t know. Which meant at that moment she had no idea Chase was there.
Finding his voice, Liam said, “Mrs. Alston there’s a surprise for you and Mr. Alston in the hallway.”
As soon as the woman passed him, headed to the hall, on shaky limbs, Liam made himself scarce. He headed back outside; he wanted to avoid becoming part of the hug fest he knew would be taking place any second.
He made his way over to Mr. Alston. “Mrs. Alston needs your help inside,” he said, not wanting to spoil Chase’s surprise for the man. Mr. Alston turned around and walked into the house. Within seconds, Liam heard screams of happiness floating from inside.
Liam wanted nothing more than to leave, but taking off after all Mr. and Mrs. Alston had done for him was something he knew he couldn’t do. But knowing he’d have to face Chase again almost had him saying fuck it to doing the right thing.
LA writes m/m romance with a splash of suspense. She loves her men to work hard, play hard and love hard. It doesn’t matter what their walk of life, although she has a special place in her heart for Military heroes, those that put their life on the line every day to keep us safe, trouble always seems to find them—whether it’s a homicidal maniac, someone with a grudge against the country, or an ex who’s seeking out revenge—LA’s guys aren’t always faced with just fighting for love, they often have to fight for their lives.
LA has always lived in the North East and has recently stretched her boundaries and moved further North—the more relaxed life style giving her more time to write—in theory anyway.
Among the things she loves besides writing and her family are her friends, those she writes with and those she writes about, reading, games (the kind with boards, not in love), playing poker, her dogs, Nutella and Bok Choy, and of course, the men and women from the Military, past and present, who keep us safe.
When she finds herself stuck at the keyboard, her fingers refusing to move, her characters refusing to talk, she likes to take a break, blast some music, and dance like no one is watching her or sing her heart out into her hairbrush microphone.
She’s living her happily ever after and wants the same for all her characters. LA believes love comes in all different packages and each should be wrapped in a ribbon and cherished.
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Blog Tour: Marked by J Jay Barrett
Title: Marked
Author: J Jay Barrett
Genre: M/M Romance, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy
Release Date: February 20, 2019
Never interfere. Those were his orders, and for centuries he stood by them, faithfully serving those that had given him his charge. Until one fateful night, while hunting, the young vampire stumbles upon a handsome, young stranger. Within minutes, Holden finds his peaceful existence thrown into a tailspin. Soon, it's a race against time to save the human that he just can't seem to get out of his head.
Chapter One
When Holden opened his eyes, the only light in the room was the orange glow of the sodium street lamps sifting between the wooden blinds from the grid of city streets, forty-four stories below, and the pale blue light of his alarm clock. The colors combined to give his stark white walls a purplish tint. The clock read 10:32.
Shit. He had overslept.
The sun had set hours before, which meant he’d wasted good, prime hunting time. If he didn’t hurry, all he’d be left with would be drunks, junkies or the homeless. None of which appealed to him. Most of them would probably taste sour and would offer very little in terms of nutritional value, their blood tainted with so many chemicals.
Before he slid out from beneath his satin sheets, he quickly scanned his local armada of Ismeros for any sign of trouble throughout the city. He had about fifty or so Ismeros of his own posted around Chicago. Various members of the High Council probably had another sixty or seventy. They lived their normal, day-to-day lives, yet kept a close watch for him during the day while he slept. He offered them protection from the terrors that the world provided, while they provided him with information and food.
Truth be told, had anything serious happened that day, the psychic connection he held with his Ismeros would have woken him from even the deepest sleep. It was part of a vampire’s long-evolved self-preservation mechanism, an army to protect him while he was most vulnerable, while he slept. While the need for an army of Ismeros had long since faded, the tradition of keeping them had not. The simple fact that he’d overslept was a sign that all was peaceful in the city. At any rate, it was still something he did every evening when he awoke, just to be sure.
It had been decades since anything tempestuous had happened in his domain. The last Strigoi to invade Chicago had been John Wayne Gacy. His reign of terror had lasted far too long. It had taken the Council years to catch up with and dispose of the rogue vampire. They would have caught up with him much sooner had human law enforcement not gotten in their way. The thought of the long-executed Strigoi still made Holden rage inside.
That bastard had killed one of Holden’s favorite Ismeros, Lukas, back in the 1970s. That boy had fucked like a champ and tasted like heaven, dipped in amazing and served with a side of remarkable. It still made Holden sad to think about. After all, it was because of Holden that boy had learned to trust vampires, which ultimately lead him to his untimely death. Holden still felt partially to blame and like a failure for not being able to save him.
“Should I just order takeout? Or should I go pick something up?” Holden said out loud to his empty room as he climbed from the warmth of his bed, scanning a mental list of Ismeros again, this time searching for any willing blood donors, who lived happened to live nearby, that might pique his interest. It was Monday. Which meant the bars and clubs would be relatively quiet in the area, yet none of his Ismeros were catching his attention.
He always did what he could to avoid the any of the Council’s Ismeros, never fully trusting them. Their loyalty lay with the Council, not with him. So, he always thought of them as spies despite working for the same team. “I’ll pick something up,” he decided out loud to an empty room.
He moved to the window, pulling up the generic blinds, which released a cloud of dust and looked out the city grid below. The orange shimmer flooded the room, illuminating his naked body in the window. He really loved this new apartment; it was too bad he wouldn’t be able to stay long. The Council forced him to move frequently, more so because they thought it was best, not because he wanted to. It was an attempt to not to draw any unwanted attention from a nosey human. Human neighbors tended to notice when the twenty-something next door always remained a twenty-something.
Holden had learned that lesson quickly in the years following the Great Chicago Fire. A neighbor had accused him of being a witch, which made for an exciting few weeks. In a stroke of luck, she’d ended up dying of cholera a short while later, and the attention quickly dwindled.
That age had been a bit more superstitious than today’s society, but the Council insisted he not take any chances, so every few years he moved to a different part of the city. He had found this apartment a few months prior. Its location on a penthouse floor of a high rise on Lake Shore Drive had definite perks. Lincoln Park, the lakefront playground that stretched from downtown to the far north side, was directly across the boulevard-turned-freeway, and it offered plenty of dark areas for hunting, chock full of potential meals. Joggers, bikers, various riff-raff, late-night walkers… to a Vampire, it was like an international buffet. Each and every one of them ripe for the picking, with the park affording all the necessary discretion to do so. It was quite dark; all the trees muted the copper glow from the city streets on one side and on the other, a hundred mile stretch of the black, open waters of Lake Michigan. He almost always hunted his breakfast here, granted, it was usually a few hours earlier.
Another option was to try his luck in the local bars and nightclubs that the neighboring Boystown and Wrigleyville had to offer. Being a Monday the only people at the bars and clubs around 4 am, his dinner hour, would be the hardcore drunks. And that much alcohol neither helped with how they tasted nor with how well they’d perform in the bedroom, both of which were equally important to a vampire. Tonight, he decided, he would exercise his third option, he would find an Ismeros to bring over for dinner, but breakfast he was going to be an excellent old-fashioned hunt.
His naked form crossed the room into the ensuite bathroom, and he turned on the shower. Steam quickly fogged up the enclosure, which was entirely made out of frameless-glass. He climbed into the black marble interior and let the hot water spray over his skin and muscles washing away any trace of his early morning romp with last night’s dinner.
The hot water soothed as it poured over his body. He massaged both of his shoulders with his hands. All of his muscles ached and burned. They cried out to be fed, burning for fuel. Every muscle fiber in his body was silently screaming out for food, having long burned off the meal from his tryst the night prior. Reminding him that it had been almost eighteen hours since he’d eaten. Jacob? Jake? John? Joe? He couldn’t remember. Johann? He had tasted Swedish, or maybe Finnish; it was hard to tell here in the New World. Everyone was a little bit of everything these days. Whatever he was, it was nothing spectacular, neither in taste nor his ability to perform in the bedroom. The boy had wound up being rather prudish and shy in bed, which was what Holden had expected from a boy who agreed to come home with him less than thirty minutes after they’d met.
Sundays had historically been very easy. The boys of East Lakeview were always eager for one last weekend rendezvous before they had to go back to the monotony of the workweek. Most them begging for his phone number before he sent them on their way, always remembering the incredible fuck, never remembering him feeding on them. He was still happy to oblige. A vampire was always on the lookout for new Ismeros, sex, and food available at his every beck and call, but it was rare that they ever actually called. Sure, he’d sometimes get a text message, but in truth, the sleek iPhone that he’d bought at the insistence of his live-in Ismeros, Marie, rarely left where it was neatly docked on his desk in the living room. He had no real use for the thing, anyone he truly cared for, he was directly linked to, with a natural, psychic link. By the time he would see the text message, the boys usually had moved on to the next best thing, and that suited this vampire just fine.
He emerged from the shower, wrapping his toned vampire body in only a plain white towel. The terrycloth fabric hung low from his waist, showing off his well-defined abdominal muscles and giving off just the slightest hint of well-groomed hair that it hid beneath its rough surface, as he walked into the living room. Marie was there, folding the solid black, Egyptian cotton sheets from his feeding room. He kept a second room strictly for feeding and fucking, having long ago been taught that you don’t bring your food into the bed that you sleep in. Things, of course, could always end up getting a little bit messy, with the inevitable exchange of body fluids.
“You slept late tonight,” she said, giving him a sharp look of concern, “Are you feeling okay?”
“I wish you’d woken me,’ he smiled. “But, yeah, I feel fine,” he said with a shrug of confidence. He was a vampire, and vampires never got sick. “Have you ever known me, or any vampire for that matter, to feel sick? I’m not sure, maybe my dinner date wore me out last night,” He smiled, remembering how attractive the boy had been. His name had definitely been Johann. “Speaking of, did you see him out?” Holden’s voice had long ago become very Americanized, losing almost all traces of its European roots.
“He left shortly after he awoke this morning,” she said, “looking just as confused as the rest of them. I’m not sure how you do it…” She chuckled.
“Talent,” he said coyly, a smirk spreading across his porcelain skin. “I learned from the best.” He, of course, was referring to his Sire, Damek. The elder vampire was nearly a thousand years old and had personally groomed Holden to be in the position that he was, Watcher for the High Council of Vampires.
“I find it hard to believe that you aren’t the best,” she flirted, “I seem to remember you being the best.” Her New Orleans accent was still discernable after all these years and always served her well in the art of flattery.
They, of course, had a very long history, at least in human terms, dating back to the late 1960s. He’d found her, homeless on the streets, ravaged by a rogue vampire, who had briefly passed through town. Having run away from an abusive home in Louisiana, she had nowhere to go, so he’d taken her in, raised her first as a foster child, then as a lover, but now she’d out-aged him, and things had come full circle. She loved him, Holden could tell, but not as a lover as she had in her youth, but more maternally. He felt a pang of remorse deep inside his heart. Holden had stolen her youth, taken her life and any hope she had ever had for a family. Next, he would steal her golden years. He shook his head to clear the thought away.
“I think I’m going to the get dressed and head to the park for some breakfast,” he said. “No strange late-night visitors tonight, I promise.”
“Good, then maybe tomorrow I will be able to sleep in,” she said with a nod and a joking smile, returning to the pile of linens at her feet. “Take your phone, please.”
He, of course, heard her request, it was the same request she gave him every night but like most things’ humans said to him, he didn’t give it a whole lot of thought. He dropped his towel into the empty laundry basket next to her feet, turned and his naked form walked back towards his room to get dressed.
When Holden opened his eyes, the only light in the room was the orange glow of the sodium street lamps sifting between the wooden blinds from the grid of city streets, forty-four stories below, and the pale blue light of his alarm clock. The colors combined to give his stark white walls a purplish tint. The clock read 10:32.
Shit. He had overslept.
The sun had set hours before, which meant he’d wasted good, prime hunting time. If he didn’t hurry, all he’d be left with would be drunks, junkies or the homeless. None of which appealed to him. Most of them would probably taste sour and would offer very little in terms of nutritional value, their blood tainted with so many chemicals.
Before he slid out from beneath his satin sheets, he quickly scanned his local armada of Ismeros for any sign of trouble throughout the city. He had about fifty or so Ismeros of his own posted around Chicago. Various members of the High Council probably had another sixty or seventy. They lived their normal, day-to-day lives, yet kept a close watch for him during the day while he slept. He offered them protection from the terrors that the world provided, while they provided him with information and food.
Truth be told, had anything serious happened that day, the psychic connection he held with his Ismeros would have woken him from even the deepest sleep. It was part of a vampire’s long-evolved self-preservation mechanism, an army to protect him while he was most vulnerable, while he slept. While the need for an army of Ismeros had long since faded, the tradition of keeping them had not. The simple fact that he’d overslept was a sign that all was peaceful in the city. At any rate, it was still something he did every evening when he awoke, just to be sure.
It had been decades since anything tempestuous had happened in his domain. The last Strigoi to invade Chicago had been John Wayne Gacy. His reign of terror had lasted far too long. It had taken the Council years to catch up with and dispose of the rogue vampire. They would have caught up with him much sooner had human law enforcement not gotten in their way. The thought of the long-executed Strigoi still made Holden rage inside.
That bastard had killed one of Holden’s favorite Ismeros, Lukas, back in the 1970s. That boy had fucked like a champ and tasted like heaven, dipped in amazing and served with a side of remarkable. It still made Holden sad to think about. After all, it was because of Holden that boy had learned to trust vampires, which ultimately lead him to his untimely death. Holden still felt partially to blame and like a failure for not being able to save him.
“Should I just order takeout? Or should I go pick something up?” Holden said out loud to his empty room as he climbed from the warmth of his bed, scanning a mental list of Ismeros again, this time searching for any willing blood donors, who lived happened to live nearby, that might pique his interest. It was Monday. Which meant the bars and clubs would be relatively quiet in the area, yet none of his Ismeros were catching his attention.
He always did what he could to avoid the any of the Council’s Ismeros, never fully trusting them. Their loyalty lay with the Council, not with him. So, he always thought of them as spies despite working for the same team. “I’ll pick something up,” he decided out loud to an empty room.
He moved to the window, pulling up the generic blinds, which released a cloud of dust and looked out the city grid below. The orange shimmer flooded the room, illuminating his naked body in the window. He really loved this new apartment; it was too bad he wouldn’t be able to stay long. The Council forced him to move frequently, more so because they thought it was best, not because he wanted to. It was an attempt to not to draw any unwanted attention from a nosey human. Human neighbors tended to notice when the twenty-something next door always remained a twenty-something.
Holden had learned that lesson quickly in the years following the Great Chicago Fire. A neighbor had accused him of being a witch, which made for an exciting few weeks. In a stroke of luck, she’d ended up dying of cholera a short while later, and the attention quickly dwindled.
Another option was to try his luck in the local bars and nightclubs that the neighboring Boystown and Wrigleyville had to offer. Being a Monday the only people at the bars and clubs around 4 am, his dinner hour, would be the hardcore drunks. And that much alcohol neither helped with how they tasted nor with how well they’d perform in the bedroom, both of which were equally important to a vampire. Tonight, he decided, he would exercise his third option, he would find an Ismeros to bring over for dinner, but breakfast he was going to be an excellent old-fashioned hunt.
His naked form crossed the room into the ensuite bathroom, and he turned on the shower. Steam quickly fogged up the enclosure, which was entirely made out of frameless-glass. He climbed into the black marble interior and let the hot water spray over his skin and muscles washing away any trace of his early morning romp with last night’s dinner.
The hot water soothed as it poured over his body. He massaged both of his shoulders with his hands. All of his muscles ached and burned. They cried out to be fed, burning for fuel. Every muscle fiber in his body was silently screaming out for food, having long burned off the meal from his tryst the night prior. Reminding him that it had been almost eighteen hours since he’d eaten. Jacob? Jake? John? Joe? He couldn’t remember. Johann? He had tasted Swedish, or maybe Finnish; it was hard to tell here in the New World. Everyone was a little bit of everything these days. Whatever he was, it was nothing spectacular, neither in taste nor his ability to perform in the bedroom. The boy had wound up being rather prudish and shy in bed, which was what Holden had expected from a boy who agreed to come home with him less than thirty minutes after they’d met.
Sundays had historically been very easy. The boys of East Lakeview were always eager for one last weekend rendezvous before they had to go back to the monotony of the workweek. Most them begging for his phone number before he sent them on their way, always remembering the incredible fuck, never remembering him feeding on them. He was still happy to oblige. A vampire was always on the lookout for new Ismeros, sex, and food available at his every beck and call, but it was rare that they ever actually called. Sure, he’d sometimes get a text message, but in truth, the sleek iPhone that he’d bought at the insistence of his live-in Ismeros, Marie, rarely left where it was neatly docked on his desk in the living room. He had no real use for the thing, anyone he truly cared for, he was directly linked to, with a natural, psychic link. By the time he would see the text message, the boys usually had moved on to the next best thing, and that suited this vampire just fine.
He emerged from the shower, wrapping his toned vampire body in only a plain white towel. The terrycloth fabric hung low from his waist, showing off his well-defined abdominal muscles and giving off just the slightest hint of well-groomed hair that it hid beneath its rough surface, as he walked into the living room. Marie was there, folding the solid black, Egyptian cotton sheets from his feeding room. He kept a second room strictly for feeding and fucking, having long ago been taught that you don’t bring your food into the bed that you sleep in. Things, of course, could always end up getting a little bit messy, with the inevitable exchange of body fluids.
“You slept late tonight,” she said, giving him a sharp look of concern, “Are you feeling okay?”
“I wish you’d woken me,’ he smiled. “But, yeah, I feel fine,” he said with a shrug of confidence. He was a vampire, and vampires never got sick. “Have you ever known me, or any vampire for that matter, to feel sick? I’m not sure, maybe my dinner date wore me out last night,” He smiled, remembering how attractive the boy had been. His name had definitely been Johann. “Speaking of, did you see him out?” Holden’s voice had long ago become very Americanized, losing almost all traces of its European roots.
“He left shortly after he awoke this morning,” she said, “looking just as confused as the rest of them. I’m not sure how you do it…” She chuckled.
“Talent,” he said coyly, a smirk spreading across his porcelain skin. “I learned from the best.” He, of course, was referring to his Sire, Damek. The elder vampire was nearly a thousand years old and had personally groomed Holden to be in the position that he was, Watcher for the High Council of Vampires.
“I find it hard to believe that you aren’t the best,” she flirted, “I seem to remember you being the best.” Her New Orleans accent was still discernable after all these years and always served her well in the art of flattery.
They, of course, had a very long history, at least in human terms, dating back to the late 1960s. He’d found her, homeless on the streets, ravaged by a rogue vampire, who had briefly passed through town. Having run away from an abusive home in Louisiana, she had nowhere to go, so he’d taken her in, raised her first as a foster child, then as a lover, but now she’d out-aged him, and things had come full circle. She loved him, Holden could tell, but not as a lover as she had in her youth, but more maternally. He felt a pang of remorse deep inside his heart. Holden had stolen her youth, taken her life and any hope she had ever had for a family. Next, he would steal her golden years. He shook his head to clear the thought away.
“I think I’m going to the get dressed and head to the park for some breakfast,” he said. “No strange late-night visitors tonight, I promise.”
“Good, then maybe tomorrow I will be able to sleep in,” she said with a nod and a joking smile, returning to the pile of linens at her feet. “Take your phone, please.”
He, of course, heard her request, it was the same request she gave him every night but like most things’ humans said to him, he didn’t give it a whole lot of thought. He dropped his towel into the empty laundry basket next to her feet, turned and his naked form walked back towards his room to get dressed.
What is the biggest influence/interest that brought you to this genre?
You know, they always say to write what you like to read. When I started Marked, it was in the middle of the vampire fiction craze that captured so many reader. It took me a really long time, but I felt I owed it to the characters to finish their story, even though the vampire genre isn’t so hot anymore.
When writing a book, what is your favorite part of the creative process (outline, plot, character names, editing, etc)?
Oh God… not editing. Anything but that. It’s impossible to edit your own work. You’ll look at a word that’s completely wrong but miss it because in your head you know what you meant to write. I’d have to say outlining. So many different story arcs just flow out of me. Unfortunately, not all of them make the cut, but it leaves things open for a sequel.
When reading a book, what genre do you find most interesting/intriguing?
I’m all over the map. I’ve read so many different books in my life. You can tell the ones I really like though when I buy a hardcover copy after I’ve read it electronically. Flipping through my kindle, I guess you could say book that deal with alternate versions of History, usually with a fantasy twist.
If you could co-author with any author, past or present, who would you choose?
Seb L. Carter. He also writes m/m urban-adventures set in Chicago with a fantasy twist.
Have you always wanted to write or did it come to you "later in life"?
In 7th grade, I had a teacher to who always said I was going to write a book some day. I guess I was an over-achiever when it came to writing assignments, doubling and tripling the requirement. My response was, “I wasn’t finished saying what I had to say…” From then on, I always figured I’d write a book, but always put it off for later.
I’m not a fast writer, this book took me six years to complete, but I was going to tell my story, even if it took me six years to come up with it all. This story came to me during long runs on the lake front. When you run 12-14 miles at a time, you have a lot of time to fantasize about things in your head. I had so many ideas, but still kept putting it on my “some day list”. Then, my friend Ken Murphy published his first book back in 2003 and I didn’t even know he was a writer. He helped inspire me to get this story told.
You know, they always say to write what you like to read. When I started Marked, it was in the middle of the vampire fiction craze that captured so many reader. It took me a really long time, but I felt I owed it to the characters to finish their story, even though the vampire genre isn’t so hot anymore.
When writing a book, what is your favorite part of the creative process (outline, plot, character names, editing, etc)?
Oh God… not editing. Anything but that. It’s impossible to edit your own work. You’ll look at a word that’s completely wrong but miss it because in your head you know what you meant to write. I’d have to say outlining. So many different story arcs just flow out of me. Unfortunately, not all of them make the cut, but it leaves things open for a sequel.
When reading a book, what genre do you find most interesting/intriguing?
I’m all over the map. I’ve read so many different books in my life. You can tell the ones I really like though when I buy a hardcover copy after I’ve read it electronically. Flipping through my kindle, I guess you could say book that deal with alternate versions of History, usually with a fantasy twist.
If you could co-author with any author, past or present, who would you choose?
Seb L. Carter. He also writes m/m urban-adventures set in Chicago with a fantasy twist.
Have you always wanted to write or did it come to you "later in life"?
In 7th grade, I had a teacher to who always said I was going to write a book some day. I guess I was an over-achiever when it came to writing assignments, doubling and tripling the requirement. My response was, “I wasn’t finished saying what I had to say…” From then on, I always figured I’d write a book, but always put it off for later.
I’m not a fast writer, this book took me six years to complete, but I was going to tell my story, even if it took me six years to come up with it all. This story came to me during long runs on the lake front. When you run 12-14 miles at a time, you have a lot of time to fantasize about things in your head. I had so many ideas, but still kept putting it on my “some day list”. Then, my friend Ken Murphy published his first book back in 2003 and I didn’t even know he was a writer. He helped inspire me to get this story told.
Jay Barrett lives in Chicago with his husband. A writer in the evening, he’s a flight attendant by day and an avid runner. Marked is his first novel.
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