Crawl in Bed with Alysia Constantine #crawlinbed #authorinterview #pridepromotions

And a Good Book

Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Cotton, are you kidding me?  Things get snagged on silk.  Plus, I have dogs and cats. 

What are you wearing?
Don’t you mean “who am I wearing?”  That came out sounding dirtier than I meant it… I was thinking of the red carpet question, not something dirty. 

What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Well, if by “in bed” you mean somewhere other than bed, then we can have popcorn.  But if you actually mean the bed in which I’m supposed to sleep, then fruit-flavored vitamin C drops, because anything else is going to make crumbs in the bed.

If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
A reading light, two bottles of expired pills, 17 defunct pens, and a bunch of stuff that didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I shoved it in this drawer.

Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
I have a full bed.  Aside from my partner, who sleeps next to me, we have a cat and two dogs, one of which is a Pit Bull.  I’m lucky if I get any covers at all.  Burrito.  I DREAM of being a burrito. 

Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Absolutely not.  My calves are cold.  Have a dog.

What are we reading?  Book title: Sweet Author: Alysia Constantine

Not every love story is a romance novel.
For Jules Burns, a lonely baker, it is the memory of his deceased husband, Andy. For Teddy Flores, a numbed-to-the-world accountant who accidentally stumbles into his bakery, it is a voyage of discovery into his deep connections to pleasure, to the world, and to his own heart.
Alysia Constantine’s Sweet is also the story of how we tell stories—of what we expect and need from a love story. The narrator is on to you, Reader, and wants to give you a love story that doesn’t always fit the bill. There are ghosts to exorcise, and jobs and money to worry about. Sweet is a love story, but it also reminds us that love is never quite what we expect, nor quite as blissfully easy as we hope.

You might imagine that these keys, the ones Teddy lost, the ones Jules found, are symbolic in this tale, that the transfer of these keys will unlock something between the two men who've held them. You might even imagine that somehow, by some chance of fate, Teddy's mysterious Hope Key opens Jules's apartment. Certainly it should, you might think, open his heart. You must let go of that silly fantasy, for such magical coincidence will not come to pass here. We who are telling you this story are pragmatists and, more importantly, your own experience should tell you that life almost never unfolds so neatly or symmetrically.
This is something in which Jules firmly believed, that life's coincidences were simply that, and that such coincidences contained no hint of design or rightness or serendipity. Yet he kept the keys in his right-hand pocket and, in quiet moments of his day, allowed his thumb to rub against the warm metal. He imagined that he was polishing a soft groove into the key tops, imagined burnishing the jagged bumps of the keys until they no longer knew the locks for which they'd been cut, but only the shape of his thumb and the constant, slight pressure he exerted upon them, so that, he imagined, when he returned them to their ownerif he could part with themthey'd be worn and soft and dully shining, and would fit nothing but his own hand.
Return to me, he found himself singing under his breath as he gently stirred cream into a pot of brown, bubbling sugar at the stove. Morning light was just beginning to sliver in through the tiny slatted windows on the east wall of the kitchen, and Jules could hear the hum gradually pick up: the city's taxis and rushing bikes and quick-clicking heels on the pavement building to a steady music.
He had always been an early riser, so baker's hours had come quite naturally to him. It was this hourstill gray even in summertime, when the city was slowly cranking into motion, when he felt the solitude and stillness of the dawn hours cracking open and falling awayit was this hour that was his favorite.
Come back to me, come back to me, come back, he sang, investing the song with all his belief. He sang the melody clean out of the words until nothing was left but a soft, breathless chant, an invocation. Jules was not entirely sure to whom he was callingthe image in his head shifted between Andy, whose presence it was his ritual to conjure in the lonely hours of the early morning as he worked, and the soft-spoken, dark-eyed, key-losing customer who'd begun to haunt him.
This morning, he might even have been calling himself, for as his body moved on its own memory, he felt his thinking self fade and blow away like dust. He kneaded butter to a soft spread, then folded and rolled and folded and rolled the dough for the croissants. He set the caramel to cool, creamed butter and sugar by hand, lovingly mixed a dark chocolate cake batter and coiled paper sleeves into a pan for the cupcakes. His hands, his arms, his lower back all worked without his guidance, knowing by heart the movements of stir and stretch and stroke. He closed his eyes. He worked tenderly. He moved like a lover.

Meet the author:

Alysia Constantine lives in Brooklyn with her wife, their two dogs, and a cat. When she is not writing, she is a professor at an art college. Before that, she was a baker and cook for a caterer, and before that, she was a poet.

Sweet is her first novel.

Where to find the author:
Twitter: @ConstantAlysia

Publisher: Interlude Press
Cover Artist: C.B. Messer

Tour Dates & Stops:

Rafflecopter Prize: $25 Interlude Press gift card to one winner, e-copies of ‘Sweet’ to five additional winners
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Crawling into bed with Christopher Stone's Randal Pierpont Sherman #mmromance #pridepromotions

Crawling into bed with Christopher Stone, speaking for his Going and Coming character, Randal Pierpont Sherman.

Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
I’m in-between unpolished Egyptian cotton sheets with a one thousand-thread count. I love the look and feel of silk, but they’re more slippery than hell. At first, I bought silk sheets. But after sliding out of bed three times, and falling to the floor with a thud, I had them cleaned, and then I donated them to Out of the Closet. Let someone else bruise his bum. These days, I’m a Cotton kind of guy.
What are you wearing?
My Birthday suit, but I did leave the radio on. At twenty-five, and with a beautiful, leanly muscled physique, I never miss an opportunity to shed my clothes. Why gild this golden lily of a body? Maybe I’ve yet to mature, and I’m no mental giant, but my bod rocks, and I enjoy showing it off whenever I can. Perhaps you saw my photos in the “Hunks of Hermosa” calendar? I was Mr. February, and in that calendar, February was the hottest month.
What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
With your permission, I’d like to eat you.
You see, I’ve had a boner since yesterday – ever since my failed seduction of my boss, Dr. Minnow Saint James.  
He’s fifteen years my senior, but the guy’s a total Babe.
He’d asked me to drop new patient files at his house while he was away. I did as he instructed, but instead of leaving afterward, I went into the back yard, stripped nude, and reclined on a patio chaise, soaking up the sun, and awaiting the boss man’s return home. I mean, finding me nude, right there on his patio chaise, how could he resist?
But resist, he did, and my planned seduction morphed into a debacle. After returning home, Dr. Saint James, or Minn, as he is more casually known, discovered nude me on the chaise, got all huffy, and insisted that I dress. Instead of grabbing my clothes,  I simply got off the chaise, and with my semi-erection swinging in the warm breeze; I casually walked up to him.
          Well the boss is so discombobulated by my nudity and tumescence that he bolts backward, slamming hard up against the sliders that lead from the house onto the patio.
          He’s fuming mad, or at least he pretends to be. And I suspect his butt is pretty sore, too. Still he can’t take his eyes off my junk. Again he insists that I dress. Minn has this awful thing about not fucking those with whom he works. He hasn’t even come out to me as gay, but I happen to know he’s a card-carrying Friend of Dorothy.
          Any who, I dress slow as molasses, because I know he’s enjoying the skin show; no matter how much he protests, I know he wants me. I mean, who wouldn’t want a piece of this?
          At his request, I skedaddle, but I’m horny as hell.
          Minn thinks that’s the end of that, but, one way or the other, I’m going to get that man, sooner or later, if it’s the last thing I do.
          So, if you’ll be so kind as to crawl between the sheets with me, and then spread your big, beautiful butt checks, I’ll snack on you. Then you’re welcome to a heaping helping of me.
          If I open this nightstand, what will I find?
          Straight away, you’ll see the Pjur Analyse Me Relaxing Anal Glide. But then you’ll notice a lined notebook and pencils. Whenever I awaken after a dream, I write down everything I remember about the dream, before returning to sleep. I’ve done this for years, even when I’m sharing my California King with some wicked awesome dude.
          And then you’ll find a copy of Dr. Saint James’s bestselling book, In a Past Life, I…. It’s the book that prompted me to apply for the job as Minn’s Man Friday. I can never get enough of the boss’s compelling book. Every time I read it, I see something important that I missed before. Great books can be that way.
          Do you roll up the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
          Neither. I tend to gently pull the covers up to my neck. When I’m lucky enough to have a bed companion, I cuddle up to the guy, my right leg slung over his torso. I love being pressed up against someone as I sleep.
          Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
          Any old time. And while you’re at it, how about pressing your manhood against my ass. I’ll keep that warm, too. Really is there anything cozier that warming a hot guy’s penis between one’s granite-hard butt cheeks?
          What are we reading?
          Going and Coming: The Minnow Saint James Metaphysical Adventures: Book One, by Christopher Stone. This hot new novel folds metaphysical themes into an entertaining pop fiction. Not only is it a hot, humorous read, but it is also enlightening, with food for thought. Who could ask for anything more?

Author Name: Christopher Stone

Book Name: Going and Coming
Series: The Minnow Saint James Metaphysical Adventures
Book: One

Release Date: January 22, 2016
At forty, Dr. Minnow Saint James, “Minn” to his friends, is a gay, metaphysical sleuth who, through Past Life Regression therapy, spans time, space, dimensions, and the entirety of God’s Creation, to discover the past, or future, life origins of his patient’s most challenging present day problems.
But Minn is also a bestselling nonfiction author. His book, In a Past Life, I…. is an international publishing sensation.
         Going and Coming is the story of how Dr. Minnow Saint James became the person he is today.
         In chapters that alternate between 2007-2008, and 2015-2016, we learn exactly how “Minn” transitioned from an atheist who is a slave to his five physical senses, into a professional metaphysician with a true belief in the Divine Mind we call God.
         Readers may find themselves mesmerized as Dr. Saint James hypnotically regresses Ramona Burford, a student volunteer at the UCLA’s Parapsychology Lab, to a past life where, she describes everything that happens from a person’s physical death in one life, until they are reincarnated in a new body. Many readers will be surprised to learn that Pearly Gates, Judgment, Heaven and Hell, have nothing to do with what really happens.
         In addition to reincarnation and the eternal nature of the personality, readers, along with “Minn,” explore metaphysical concepts including Simultaneous Time, and the erroneous physical beliefs in sickness, sin, and death.
         Along the way, Going and Coming may just shatter your strongest beliefs about the very nature of reality.

Pages or Words: 80,000 words

Categories: Contemporary, Gay Fiction, Mystery, Paranormal, Thriller, Humor, Metaphysical

Who am I?
 My name is Dr. Minnow Saint James. My family and friends call me Minn. To everyone else, I am Dr. Saint James.
I was born and raised in Beverly Hills, California, amid swimming pools, movie stars, and private schools. My parents are Sheila and Russell Saint James. Father owns and operates Saint James Cadillac, six highly successful Cadillac dealerships in the San Fernando Valley. Mother, known simply as She to one and all, is Lady Bountiful to Beverly Hills at large, conceiving and coordinating many of its most prestigious charity events.
Want someone to coax an antisocial celebrity into hosting a Republican fundraiser? Mother is your go-to gal.
 A youthful forty, I now live and work in Hermosa Beach, California, one of Los Angeles County’s loveliest South Bay beach cities.
Minnow, now there’s a moniker you don’t hear every day. That is, unless you happen to be me. Jokes about my first name haunted my school years. But these days, when people speak of Dr. Minnow Saint James, there’s no mention of his quirky first name. They talk about my professional achievements: You see, nowadays, I have a wildly successful practice as America’s leading Past Life Regression therapist, and I’m also the founder of the Institute for Mental Health Through Past Life Regression Therapy, -now an international organization - with my friend and former professor, Dr. Adrian Finkelstein, as the Institute’s CEO.
 But what exactly is a Past Life Regression therapist? I am in the business of going and coming – that is, going into my patients’ past, and sometimes future, lives through hypnotic regression, and coming back with the other life origins of their present life challenges.
My work is cutting edge and evolutionary. Let me put it this way: medical marvels such as artificial limbs, Titanium plates and other metal joints, and pacemakers, have already transformed humans from biological organisms into creatures that are biological and technological hybrids.
Similarly the science of psychology, will soon come to understand the necessity of treating the individual’s entire mental gestalt - including what we think of as past, and even future, lives - in order for the person to achieve mental health.
In my practice, I’ve been treating that entire gestalt for the past seven years. I’m the future of good mental health; science’s better way and brighter tomorrow. But to Psychology Today, and to most of the mental health community, the jury is still out on past life regression therapy, and so they claim my work is not science based.  
Nonetheless my success rate, in excess of eighty-five percent, not only speaks for itself; it is the envy of the “scientifically sound” therapies. My services are sought out by people from all walks of life, and from all over the world. My private practice has a six-month waiting list.
Quite simply, while Mother is the go-to woman for Charitable Beverly Hills, I’m the guy ya gonna call when you believe the challenges of your current life may be rooted in a past, or future, one. Often my therapy represents the last, best hope of patients who have tried and failed to achieve mental health through traditional treatments.
The profession has many perks. For one, it is much easier dealing with other people’s issues than with your own. I have a good excuse, if not a good reason, for leaving my own challenges and shortcomings unexamined.
That is how I’m able to avoid pesky questions. Questions such as: Why, at forty-years-old, am I without a spouse, a boyfriend, or even the steady hook-up? I like to think the lack of romance in my life, and the absence of booty in my bed, are products of the spiritualization of my thought, gained in the eight years since my personal transformations. That is what I like to think. The truth may vary.

Buy the book:

Meet the author:
Born in Bronx, New York, and raised in Fresno, California, Christopher Stone’s early years were dominated by school, watching television and motion pictures, bicycling, skating, and reading avidly. Summers were spent swimming, and doing whatever it took to survive the oppressive San Joaquin Valley heat. But he also remembers fondly the yearly summer trips to New York, to visit family and friends – and to see Broadway shows.
Christopher left Fresno, for Hollywood, California, during his college years after being accepted into the Writers Guild of America’s Open Door Program, a two-year, scholarship, training ground for aspiring screen and television writers. As it happened, rather than a teleplay or screenwriting gig, his first professional writing job was in journalism – as the Los Angeles Editor for Stage Door, at that time, Canada’s equivalent of the U.S. entertainment trade weekly, Variety.
Christopher would later use his Writers Guild of America training to co-author and sell the original screenplay, The Living Legend, with Jon Mercedes III, to the Erin Organization, and later, and also with Mercedes, to write two seasons of The Party Game, a Canadian TV game show.
As a young freelance entertainment journalist, he contributed to many Los Angeles-based publications, among them The Advocate, for which he wrote a breezy film column, “Reeling ‘Round,” and the Los Angeles Free Press. During this time, he became a member of the Los Angeles Drama Critics Circle.
Christopher dipped his toes into the world of motion picture advertising and publicity, as assistant to the West Coast Director of Advertising and Publicity for Cinerama Releasing Corporation, in Beverly Hills. At the same time, he also did special advertising and publicity projects for 20th Century-Fox. Christopher went on to become an Account Executive for David Wallace & Company, a public relations firm specializing in entertainment accounts – and located on West Hollywood’s legendary Sunset Strip.
Returning to his first love, writing, Christopher became a full time freelance contributor to national consumer publications including Us, Good Housekeeping, Family Circle, McCall’s, In Cinema, and The National Enquirer, among others. Many of his stories were syndicated worldwide by the New York Times Syndication Corp.
Another important area of endeavor for Christopher Stone was Re-Creating Your Self. A Blueprint for Personal Change that he first developed for himself, the journalist went on to teach the principles and processes of Re-Creating Your Self to others – first, in private sessions, later, in workshops and seminars, and, finally, for California State University Extended Education. Eventually, one of his students suggested he write a book version.
Re-Creating Your Self was first published in hardcover by Metamorphous Press, and subsequently published in a trade paperback edition by Hay House. It has since been published in Spanish, Swedish and Hebrew language editions.
When not writing, Christopher used his longtime interest in, and study of, metaphysics, to teach meditation and psychic development classes – first in Beverly Hills, then later, in Manhattan Beach.
He went on to co-author, with Mary Sheldon, four novellas for a Japanese educational publisher, and then, also with Mary Sheldon, the highly successful The Meditation Journal trilogy of hardcover books. Subsequently, he returned to journalism, this time, contributing hundreds of print and online entertainment features, columns and reviews to magazines and websites. For eight years, Christopher was the Box-office Columnist for MatchFlick.com, a popular online motion picture site.
In his private life, Christopher Stone met David M. Stoebner on May 17, 1994, and they have been together ever since. In 2008, they were married in Los Angeles.
They share a home with their three pets in Coastal Los Angeles County.
In 2013, Christopher’s pet project has been transforming their rarely used kitchen table area into a killer, retro 1950s Diner Nook, complete with a 1952 Seeburg Table Top jukebox, a neon diner sign, and a malt machine.
Christopher’s first novel, Frame of Reference was e and print published, in fall 2012, by MLR Press. A short story, Sweet Homo Alabama was published by MLR Press, December 19, 2012.
Stone spent much of 2013 writing Frame of Reference 2: The Dark Side of Stardom, a sequel novel to Frame of Reference, as well as, Abracadabra, and a short story, published at Halloween. But the indefatigable scribe also found time to contribute weekly reviews, columns and interviews to Queer Town Abbey.
On December 11, 2015, Christopher will introduce readers to the Past Life Regression therapist, Dr. Minnow Saint James, the subject of his new series, The Minnow Saint James Metaphysical Adventures, in the Christmas short story, Shaking the Holiday Blues Away, MLR Press. Going and Coming: The Minnow Saint James Metaphysical Adventures, Book 1, will be released by MLR Press, January 22, 2016.

Where to find the author:

Facebook Link: https://www.facebook.com

Publisher: MLR Press
Cover Artist:

Tour Dates & Stops:
11-Feb: Lee Brazil, Inked Rainbow Reads, Bayou Book Junkie

Rafflecopter Prize: E-copy of Going and Coming: The Minnow Saint James Metaphysical Adventures

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Book Blast: Torn and Frayed by Rodd Clark #mmromance #crimestory #pridepromotions

Author Name: Rodd Clark

Book Name: Torn and Frayed
Series: Gabriel Church Tales
Book: Two
Can be read as a standalone, but better read as a series

Release Date: E-Book: January 9, 2016/Paperback: February 9, 2016

“Conscience isn’t something all people are born with...” 
Gabriel Church is a portrait in contrast. It would be easy to get lost in his pale-blue eyes, ache with the need to feel the strength of his masculine frame. He appears to be nothing but animal and instinct. The only people who know the full depth of that truth are dead, murdered, or two thousand miles away.
Gabe is a serial killer. For the first time in his life, he has more on his mind than his own survival. This time he is running from Seattle to protect the only person he thinks innocent in his laundry list of crime and murder: Christian Maxwell, his biographer and unexpected lover. Drawn to a place he never thought to return, Gabe finds new and different realities. Realities that insist he let go of his tragic past, those incredible perceptions of God, and his own divinity. He must open his eyes to what the love of a good man can do to heal a broken soul.
But when the killer is confronted by his own willingness to love and sacrifice, he is forced to ultimately ask the question: Just how far will he go to save a life . . . when all he’s ever done is take them?

Pages or Words: 100,000 words

Categories: Bisexual, Crime Fiction, Fiction, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Mystery, Thriller

The relationship that Gabriel Church and Christian Maxwell shared was based on a period that overshadowed any real emotional bond. If the situation had been normal, Christian might’ve learned that Gabriel used gallows humor far too frequently, or that he had a cruel streak buried under his handsome exterior. As much as they thought they cared for each other, neither looked closely enough at the reasons and the whys regarding the draw each one felt for the other. Gabriel was a serial killer running on an uneasy apprehension of arrest, and he’d never allowed himself to get closer to anyone, particularly a stranger like Maxwell. But paramount to that, he was a man who hadn’t had a friend in nearly more years than he could count. They’d somehow formed a connection, and the end result had been greater than Gabriel could’ve ever thought he’d achieve. Their friendship had turned sexual, but it had more to do with the evolution of simple human contact and a desire to have something neither man could have guessed would become their future.
The allure that bound them had been based on something bent and unconventional. It was this distinction that outshone all else, and was the only thing that might’ve remained standing. It was a Romeo and Juliet tragedy in the making; two souls who’d shared a single foxhole, yet neither could see that clearly enough in those earlier days.
Christian had all the “tells” of someone who was distrustful of Gabe from the beginning. Maybe it was his bent smile and the shadow of a killer underneath such an attractive façade. Or maybe it was the blossoming of the writer’s sexuality and the heat that was generating between them, unbeknownst to him. Theirs had been a strange relationship, more parasitical than not. Chris wanted to learn all he could about the mind of a serial murderer, and Gabe hungrily fed off the man’s undeniable devotion. Even before they’d fucked the first time, Gabe had felt the odd stirrings in his jeans. He’d disregarded the titillation at the time, and later he wrote it off as some type of control, knowing that whatever he had the writer wanted in spades. Christian’s eyes had told the truth, his crystal gaze lapping up the image of the man across the room. It was in some twisted satisfaction that Gabe likened the writer to a puppy, trying desperately to please a stern owner and the clearly visible desire to lick at the stubble on his cheeks.

Buy the book:

Driven Bookshop: http://ow.ly/W8HWs
Amazon US: http://ow.ly/W8IcF
Amazon UK: http://ow.ly/W8Irn

Meet the author:

Rodd lives in Dallas, TX at the moment but hails from the sticks of Oklahoma. Check out his web presence at RODDCLARK.COM. Interested in the M/M Mystery, Romance and Thriller genres but has a varied interest in many books. It has been written that his writing has a very dark and distinctive voice with a need for deep exploration and analysis.  “Torn and Frayed” is the sequel to his popular romantic thriller, "Rubble and the Wreckage." The third chapter of the series should be released later in the year and give readers a chance to see how their wicked story is resolved

Where to find the author:

Publisher: Driven Press
Cover Artist: Mumson Designs

Tour Dates & Stops:
Rafflecopter Prize: Paperback copy of ‘Torn and Frayed’ by Rodd Clark
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Be Yourself

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955