Sunday, April 29, 2012

Fallen Angel - Deleted Scene

In just over a week Torquere Press will release Fallen Angel, the sequel to The Angel of 13th Street. Both stories mention both Doc and Noah's guilt over the death of Doc's son, Ben Jr. Doc, because he feels he failed his son, and Noah because he knew of Bennie's drug use and dangerous lifestyle and did nothing to intervene.

The following is a scene that didn't make it into Fallen Angel, telling what happened to make Bennie run away, and father and son's final moments together. 


Benjamin "Doc" Cook arrived home late, nothing unusual with his schedule, tiptoeing down the hall to avoid waking Ben Jr. An eerie blue light shown from beneath his son's bedroom door, and he rapped lightly. It was far too late for Bennie to be up on a school night.

Receiving no answer, he eased the door open, peering inside. A lava lamp cast a bluish glow over mounds of clothes and haphazardly discarded shoes and books. What a mess! Doc stepped into the room, wanting only to see his son for a moment, even if the boy was asleep. For the millionth time he vowed to adjust his schedule, make more room for quality time. A promise he'd never been able to keep.

He stood beside the bed, suddenly realizing that the figure huddled beneath the blankets was too still, no steady rise and fall from breathing. He jerked the covers back, his heart falling to his feet. Instead of a red haired teen, plumped pillows lay beneath the sheets. Then he noticed the curtains fluttering in a breeze.

Gone. Bennie was gone. Apparently utilizing the fire escape. ‘Don't panic' he told himself. ‘Teens slip out all the time. You did it yourself when you were his age'. Worry gnawed his insides, though. Times had changed since Doc had been a kid, and rural Idaho offered fewer temptations than a big city. He plunked down on the bed, jumping up again when he felt something jab his butt.

He slid his hands under the covers, hand closing around an object that he didn't need to see to identify. The pipe wasn't very large, not even the length of his hand, but that tiny piece of blown glass told a tale Doc didn't want to hear. His last hope of "maybe he just has it but doesn't use it" flew out the window. Brown stains spoke otherwise. The minutes ticked by, Doc's denial lessoning with each one.

Anger ate through him like bitter acid. With a forced calm, he methodically ripped his son's room apart, gathering all contraband on the bed: the pipe, a lighter, a prescription bottle containing two pills, the label bearing a name Doc didn't know. The closet gave up a half-filled bottle of gin, from Doc's own bar, judging by the brand. The dresser yielded two condoms. Bennie was sexually active? Did he have a girlfriend? At least it appeared he was being safe, or so Doc hoped.

And then he found the notebook. In stunned shock he read rambling journal entries. "I smoked my first joint today", and "going to Jimmy's to par-tay" were bad enough, but the ones that hurt the most were, "Jimmy's dad gave him shit today about getting a job. He thinks I'm lucky 'cause my dad isn't home long enough to even know I'm alive."

Doc didn't know of any Jimmy, Bennie had never spoken of him. Or had he? Doc wracked him brain, trying to recall his son's friends. There was Trey, the son of a fellow doctor. But wait. When had Doc last seen the boys together? It struck him as a blow to the face that he didn't even know who his son currently hung out with.

He read more, adventures that Bennie had with the mysterious Jimmy, until stumbling upon words that made his blood run cold. "I am so fucked up. Jimmy has the best shit. I didn't make it to school today. When that bitch in the front office called, Jimmy pretended to be Dad, told 'em I was sick." Then and there Doc decided to lay down the law. Bennie was no longer allowed to associate with Jimmy, whoever he was. And he'd been in the apartment! Bennie knew better than to bring friends home when Doc wasn't there. 'Are you ever here, though?' a niggling voice asked.

Then Doc turned a page and something fell out. His heart nearly stopped. A series of tiny photos, the kind a booth at the mall spit out, showed Bennie and another teen. In the first shot they were laughing, holding fingers up behind each other's heads. In the second they made faces. In the third they faced each other, tongues stuck out. In the fourth… Dear Lord. In the fourth they were kissing.

Doc stared at the blond youth who'd corrupted his little boy, rage building. Bennie, so clean cut and soft spoken, had no business hanging around someone with gauges in his ears and tattoos. Tattoos! He stared at the photo more closely, recalling what Bennie had said about Jimmy and getting a job. His blood pressure rose. Jimmy appeared far older than Doc first realized, in his mid-twenties at least. And Bennie had just turned seventeen.

He paced, kicking dirty jeans out of his way to vent his frustration. Why? How? Once the initial fury passed, he tried to think rationally. He'd talk to Bennie, that's what he'd do. Convince him that Jimmy was just a phase. There were several good counselors Doc knew; he would make Bennie an appointment first thing in the morning, get him help. If that didn't work, he'd had friends who'd sent troubled teens to private academies, staffed by psychologists who specialized in turning lives around. 'My kid is not gay, my kid is not on drugs, my kid in not skipping school', he chanted, trying to convince himself.

At five AM Doc heard the scrape of the fire escape and braced for battle. He nearly didn't recognize the skinny kid who crawled in through the window and collapsed face first on the bed without even noticing Doc standing by the door.

"We need to talk," Doc said.

"What the hell?" Bennie rolled over, staring with unfocused eyes. "What the fuck are you doing in here?" he shouted.

'What's he angry about?' Doc wondered, 'I'm the one who just found out my son leads a double life.' "It's my home," Doc replied, voice calmer than he felt. "I have a right to be here."

"Not in my room, you don't." Bennie's eyes went wide, spying the pipe, pictures, and the other evidence of what he'd been up to. His chest puffed and his face purpled. "You had no freaking right to go through my stuff!"

"I have every right. I'm your father."

"Can't prove it by me."

They stared each other down, fury pulsing off them both. "You will not see this Jimmy again. Do I make myself clear? I forbid it. Is he the one that's got you doing this shit?" He waved a hand to indicate the pipe and pills.

"You forbid it? You forbid it!" Bennie mocked, pitching his voice high. "You gave up the right to tell me what to do a long time ago."

An image flashed through Doc's mind of sweet little Bennie, climbing up into this lap, saying, "I love you, Daddy." What had happened to that lovable child? The youth snarling at Doc from the bed bore little resemblance.

"Why are you even hanging around him? You're not gay," Doc said, needing affirmation on that score.

Bennie threw back his head, laughing. "Excuse me. I have a picture of my tongue down a guy's throat." He shook the photos at Doc. "Not to mention that he fucks me until I can't stand up."

Doc didn't know what came over him. Never in his life had he touched his son in anger. But he drew back and slapped his precious little boy across the face. He froze. 'What have I done!'

"Bennie, I'm sorry," he started to say.

"Get out of my fucking room!" Bennie rose to his knees on the mattress, screaming. "Get out, get out, get out!" He flung the lighter, the pipe, the notebook, the pills, rising from the bed to chase Doc from the room.

Doc retreated, his parting shot, "We'll talk about this in the morning."

Bennie, face twisted into a grotesque mask of rage, hurled insults that didn't stop when Doc left and slammed the door. The anguished father leaned against the wall, breathing hard. When had his son become the horrifying being he'd just met? Too tired to dwell on it, he plodded to his room, gathering his defenses. "Tomorrow" he told himself. "Tomorrow I'll deal with him. He will do what I say. He can't be gay. It's just the drugs talking. I'll show him. He won't do this to me! I will not let him do this to me! What will people think?"

The next morning he made several early morning calls: work, to tell them he wouldn’t be in, the school, informing them Bennie wouldn't be there, not very surprised to find out this would be the second week of Bennie's absence. Then he called an intervention center that he'd often recommended to patients, making arrangements for his son's immediate check in. If anyone asked, he'd say Bennie had gone away to boarding school. Yes, that's what he'd say. Minimize the damage to his reputation.

However, when he returned to Bennie's room, the curtains blew in the wind. The pipe, notebook, and pills were gone. So was Bennie.

"He'll be back," Doc repeated every day for the next week, purposefully leaving the window open. "He'll say he's sorry and beg me to forgive him,"

Reluctantly he filed a missing person's report, bringing his dirty family laundry into the open. Two weeks later worry gnawed at him night and day. Faced with no other choice, he asked for a leave of absence, thinking it ironic that one day off to spend with his son at the right time might have prevented him from needing to take two weeks.

He placed ads, posted fliers, offered rewards, to no avail. No one had seen Bennie. Next he attempted to find the "Jimmy" from Bennie's pictures. Still, nothing came of it.

Then one day he received a call from a friend at the police department. "They picked up a James Anderson who looks like the guy in the picture you showed me."

"Oh thank heavens!" Doc exclaimed, fully believing he'd have his son back in short order, until it sank in that Jimmy might be a violent criminal. "What are the charges?" he asked, holding his breath for the answer.


Doc’s hopes crumbled and burned. Jimmy claimed, "The asshole left me," and wouldn't answer any more questions without an attorney. Doc hired a private investigator who turned up nothing. Bennie was well and truly gone.

A year went by, then two, then three. Doc buried himself in his work, frustrated that all his efforts to find his son led down dead ends. "If I could only see him, talk to him, I'd make him see the light," had changed over time to, "please, Lord, just let him come home. We'll work it out."

At the end of a double shift, bleary eyed, he thought it merely fatigue that caused chills to race up his spine when a pair of paramedics wheeled in a gurney. "Poor bastard," one said in passing. Doc glanced down, seeing past the blood, the bloating, and the years, to the man lying underneath. Blue eyes, copper hair matted by blood. A scar marred one cheek, and like it'd been yesterday, Doc remembered treating that wound, acquired during a fall from a bicycle.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed, chasing the gurney down the hall, heedless of how many hours he'd worked or that his shift had ended. “That’s my son!”

In all his years as a doctor, he'd never before devoted so much effort to his task, willing his shaking hands steady. On the verge of a breakdown, doing more harm than good, Doc fought in the orderlies’ hands when another doctor enforced the order to “Get out of the way.” Through a prism of tears he watched, feeling more helpless with each sorrowful headshake of Bennie's caregiver. "Internal bleeding, prep him for O.R.," he heard, staring in horrified fascination at the needle marks in a too-skinny arm.

Doc stood by the gurney, taking his son in his arms. And then it happened. At only twenty years old, Bennie suffered cardiac arrest, a vicious beating and years of hard living taking their toll.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Doc screamed, exhausting his last reserves of energy in chest compressions, until pulled bodily aside to be replaced by a defibrillator.


Bennie's body absorbed the shock; Doc winced when the current caused his son to jerk.

The staff worked for a small eternity. Finally, the doctor turned to Doc and said, "I'm sorry."


Look for Fallen Angel, Wednesday, May 9, from Torquere Press. 

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Happy Places

Sometimes a "happy place" isn't really a place at all, but a piece of music, a movie, a favorite book, or even a painting. One of mine is the movie "Were the World Mine." No matter how bad my day has been, it never fails to cheer me up. And I find myself humming the songs long after the credits roll. Here's my favorite part. Dang, but that boy can sing!!

Book signing with J.P. Barnaby and Shae Connor 5/5/12

J.P. Barnaby, Shae Connor, and yours truly will be at Mixx Atlanta on Saturday, May 5 for a book signing from 7 - 8:30 pm, sponsored by the good folks at Brushstrokes. If you're in the Atlanta area, stop by, or hang with us at Outlantacon earlier in the day.

I was priviledged to meet J.P. and Shae last month in New York, and we're gonna have a blast in Atlanta.  I hope to see you there!

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Extra Scenes for Same Time Next Year

For those of you who've read Same Time Next Year, I wrote two more pieces that go with the story.

The first tells a bit about Jerome's life without Greg.

This epilogue ends the story on a happy note:

Hugs, and happy reading!

Spotlight Author or At Amber Heat Readers Group

Tomorrow, April 20, join me at the Amber Heat Reader's Group where I'll be the spotlighted author. And if you've ever attended one of my events, you know they'll be a giveaway contest.

I hope to see you there!

The Backlist Strikes Back...

Join me and a dozen other LGBT authors as we talk about our favorite older releases. We'll be at EM Lynley's blog for a week of time-traveling fun, starting April 18. Other participants include: Clare London, L.C. Chase, Victor Banis, P.D. Singer, Shira Anthony, Sean Michael, Trina Lane, Kiernan Kelly and more!

Be sure to check daily so you don't miss out on any of the fun!

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Interview at Reviews by Jessewave

Check out my interview at Reviews by Jessewave, where Wave asks about my books, my tats, and how I feel about the boy is the hot tub.

Come visit!

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Book Signing with Shae Connor and J.P. Barnaby in Atlanta, GA

I’ll be joining JP Barnaby and Shae Connor for a book signing Saturday, May 5th, at Mixx in Atlanta, sponsored by the great folks at  Brushstrokes.

Time: 7:00–8:30 p.m.
Address: 1492 Piedmont Ave NE #B (Ansley Square)

Earlier in the day, catch us at Outlantacon!

Thousand Word Thursday Story at Cryselle's Bookshelf

Last week Cryselle's Bookshelf posted a prompt picture that I simply couldn't resist. While stories should be between one hundred and one thousand words, I may have gone a bit over. Oops!

Check it out at Cryselle's Bookshelf. 

Remember, every Thursday she posts a new picture. Write her a short story and she'll post it, along with a bit about the author and book release information. What? You say you're not a writer? Then check out the stories written by other folks who once said the same thing.

Interview at Reviews by Jessewave

Stop by Reviews by Jessewave on Wednesday, April 18 to see how I answer interview quesions from Wave and the boys in the hot tub. Hey, did that guy just....

Check it out here:

Monday, April 16, 2012

Marvelous Collection of Short Stories

Those who follow my reviews probably know that I love m/m romance, preferably those that culminate in a happy ending. While some of the tales in Jerry L. Wheeler's Strawberries and Other Erotic Fruits fit that description, others do not. However, as different as they all are, each and every story drew me in, captured my full attention, and had me saying, "Oh, this is gonna be my favorite!" Until I read the next one...

I have to admit that the first two offerings had me worried about the overall tone of this collection of short stories. The first, Strawberries, I'd describe as erotica meets The Twilight Zone. Imaginative, unique, and left me shivering for hours. I'll never look at a scarecrow the same way again. 

In the forward of this volume, the author speaks of Poe's influence. That influence shows with creepy, macabre clarity in the second story, Spider Strands. A tattoo enthusiast, I'll be looking long and hard at the next guy I let ink my skin. 

At this point, I was worried that I was in for more "sitting around the campfire telling spooky stories," but with perfect timing the author lightened the mood with Waafrneeaasuu, a laughingly funny look at a man's attempt to erase the one undesirable trait in his otherwise perfect boyfriend. Man, I loved Eduardo and the cocky fortune teller. A bear in cargo short and leather vest? And before you picture a leather daddy, I'm talking a real (somewhat) bear here. 

The Fireside Bright tugged at my heartstrings. The author deftly paints enough of a background to allow us to fill in and flesh out the story however our personal view of the world sees fit. 

Snapshots isn't an easy story, but one filled with revenge, grudges, a touch of remorse and…poetic justice, perhaps? I found myself thinking of this one long after I'd finished reading. 

I found this collection well arranged, the stories dropping me into valleys then lifting me up again. The Fireside Bright began the descent (emotionally), it bottomed out with Snapshots, then climbed again with Changing Planes, a story of reaffirmation and finding a reason to go on living. 

Have you ever read in the paper about a man described as "such a quiet guy" who was discovered having done something heinous? Did you wonder how such an obscure person made the leap from loser to mindless, remorseless killer? We're shown in Love, Sex, & Death on the Daily Commute. Wow, I never saw that coming!

The Telephone Line is a little slice of life, a memorable afternoon interlude. Who hasn't fantasized about a hot telephone repair man showing up at the door and staying for a little fun? 

In the mood to have your heart broken and put back together again? Read Templeton's in Love. I cried tears both sad and happy. And if you're looking for a bittersweet but happy ending... ladies and gentlemen, step right this way. 

Little Danny's Donuts provides a tongue in cheek take on the old cliché about cops and donuts, and if ever two men belonged together, it was Danny and his "Nordic fishercop."

We began our descent again with the thought-provoking Cumsmoke, where justice fits the crime. Chilling and unexpected, this short story provided another twist that I just didn't see coming. As with each of these stories, I wholeheartedly admired the word choices and construction as much as the story itself. There is never a dull moment. 

You Know You Want To looked inside the mind of a basically good person, putting him in a situation and asking, "how much can you take?" and "what would you do if you knew there'd be no consequences?" Initially seduced, our hero retains enough clarity of mind to see the consequences, and he does the right thing to save the man he's never stopped loving. 

I think I know Yuri, from Yuri, a Pride Memoir, all bright-eyed and enthusiastically embracing the ability to live as he chooses, openly with no fear. I followed this "kid in a candy store" along through the thrill of his first Pride Weekend, bouncing around from sight to sight with him. Such an infectious energy captured by words! For all of the characters I "met" in this collection, there's not a single cookie-cutter, all are unique (well, except for maybe the two cops that the protag couldn't tell apart) and three-dimensional. Yuri had me grinning.

After all is said and done, I must admit that the very last story, A Thirst for Talent, is my favorite, if I have to choose. Vampires that feed on talent, not blood, and who compete with each other for the brightest and best. I fell totally in love with Wade, the prize squabbled over by two vampires. Fresh-faced country boy with tons of talent and zero guile meets Warner, a vampire who has a heart after all, and loses it to Wade, created a major "awwww" moment for this hopeless romantic. Even been-there-done-that-seen-it-all Stacks wormed his way into my heart. And then... The author took everything I thought I knew and turned it on its ear! Bad author! Or rather, good author! 

Sometimes you read a story and know what's going to happen but continue reading anyway because the view is so excellent on the ride. Well, get ready to throw the map away, because once you start reading, there's no telling where you'll end up. But you will enjoy the ride, and remember the journey, with Jerry L. Wheeler as your tour guide. 

Highly, highly recommended. 

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Three writers and a weekend...

Back in January I had the priviledge of meeting up with Ally Blue and D.H. Starr in Asheville, NC. (You can just imagine the topics of conversation when three m/m writers get together.) While we toured the Biltmore House, attended a wine tasting, and enjoyed a lovely lunch, the highlight of the weekend for me was the company. Before I began writing my first book I was a huge fan of Ally's, and Doug is one of the most amusing and entertaining people I've ever met.

During the weekend, Doug mentioned that he had a work in process that he'd been pecking at for two years. With a little encouragement, he began reading to book aloud. First off, I've recently discovered (via book readings) that I quite enjoy being read to. Secondly, the moment Doug began reading, I was hooked.

"You have GOT to get that off your hard drive and published," I told him.

Over the next few weeks he sent me chapters, and I had the pleasure of playing beta for a captivating novel the puts a unique spin on the tried and true vampire tale. The result is the cleverly named: Feed. Prey. Love.

While the reluctant main characters slowly cracking their shells to let each other in kept me riveted to the page, an outrageous secondary character stole quite a few scenes. In a place where humans and paranormals coexist, Purvis the fairy is that meddling, good intentioned friend who spends a lot of time apologizing when his matchmaking and schemes go awry.

I'm so very glad that this book escaped the confines of Doug's computer, and when you're in the mood for a sizzling vampire love story, you might want to check this one out.

At Whispering Hills where mortals and paranormals coexist peacefully – and romantically - love really does bite!

Talib Eldridge is a vampire who lives with guilt. 100 years ago, he accidentally turned a human to a vampire and has been afraid to get close to anyone for fear of ever losing control as he once did. When he meets Conley Berillo, his commitment to living in isolation is challenged. Immediately drawn to the human, he can’t help but fall in love.

Conley has always felt out of place. Never fitting in with others, he too has lived in isolation. When the existence of paranormal creatures is finally acknowledged, he feels an immediate affinity to the outcasts, still feared and hated by humans. Moving to Whispering Hills in Providence, Rhode Island, he knows immediately that he belongs to this new world. When he meets Talib, that conviction is only solidified.

When Jonah Townsend, the human Talib had turned about a hundred years earlier, re-enters the picture, Talib and Conley’s newfound happiness is threatened. Conley becomes the tool that Jonah uses to get back at Talib and Talib is forced to make a choice. Fight for his own happiness and risk Conley’s life, or put Conley’s safety first and sacrifice what he’s searched and struggled for over two hundred years!

Saturday, April 14, 2012

They shot my &#^$& house!

Those of you who've been around my blog, or who've met me, know that I talk a lot about living down a dirt road in a single wide. You've heard about raccoons fighting on the roof at night and bobcats under the house. You've endured tales of my epic morning battle with a skunk ( I lost), and my fight with UPS and FedEx drivers who won't venture down my road. You may even have seen the rigged up Internet connection that I endured for three months before the neighbor ran over it with a lawn mower. Today, however, takes the cake.

I have a neighbor (down here "neighbors" can live up to three miles away) who has a semiautomatic weapon that he's very proud of. So proud of, in fact, that he shares the noise with us as late as nine PM. Yes, the police know him. Yes, he still target shoots at nine PM.

I was curled up in my bedroom on my bed reading and listening to the latest round of target practice when I heard a loud "thunk" from the general vacity of the outer wall of the adjoining bathroom. That was my first hint. The second was that target practice suddenly seemed to be over.

After I felt safe to do so, I went outside and looked, but was looking on the wrong wall. This afternoon I walked out to get my mail (1/4 mile to the mailbox out on the main road) and saw the hole plain as day on the front of the house. They shot my ^%%$ing house! Ten feet from where I was sitting!

I'm not a violent person, but right now I'm having serious thoughts about what I'd like to do with my neighbor's play toy. Suddenly I feel like I'm starring in my own, "You might be a redneck" joke.

Five Star Review for Diversion at ReviewsbyJessewave

What a wonderful thing to find first thing in the morning: a well thought  out, well stated review for my latest novel, Diversion. That the reviewer rated the book five stars is icing on the cake.

Here's a bit of what reviewer Cryselle had to say:
Once again, Eden Winters has demonstrated why she’s one of my “must buy” authors: I swear Diversion is her best yet. With some plot points ripped straight out of the headlines and shaped deftly into a story that is uniquely hers, and vivid and offbeat characters that riff perfectly off each other, this was a book I had to read more than once.
Very highly recommended: this book works on a lot of levels, and, oh yeah, Bo and Lucky sizzle together. Two words: assless chaps. 

Read entire review here:

Check out the site next Wednesday, April 18, when Wave will be posting an interview with yours truly.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Giveaway for Same Time Next Year

Wonderful friend, blogger, reviewer, beta, and pet parent, Chris at Stumbling Over Chaos is hosting a giveaway for my latest short story re-release, Same Time Next Year.

Jerome and Greg played on the dirt road halfway between their homes when they were kids, and found much better games to play there when they grew older. It's their special spot, the perfect place for Greg to propose, and the worst place possible for the accident that takes his life. 

Devastated by the loss, Jerome visits that lonely road on the anniversary of Greg's death, only to discover that not all endings are permanent.

To get in on the drawing, all you have to do is leave a comment on the thread over at Stumbling Over Chaos.  While you're there, check  out the great Linkety, Misadventures in Stock Photography, and my favorite, pics of her two kitties, Chaos and Mayhem. 

Find Same Time Next Year here at JMS Books. 

Fallen Angel - We have a cover! And tentative blurb!

Oh my! There's just no describing the feeling. I submit the art request form, hoping I've included everything I needed to. Then, I get that email. You know, the one with my book's title and the magic word, "cover."

I hold my breath and click the link. And then I squee. At four A.M.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the cover for Fallen Angel, sequel to The Angel of 13th Street. The blurb is still tentative at this point.

Ten years of rescuing lost youth from the streets wear a man out, and Noah Everett buckles under the pressure of being "The Angel." What began as a two-man mission is now going corporate, meaning rules, regulations and inexperienced volunteers needing guidance in a field Noah makes up as he goes along. On top of this, his latest prospective rescue doesn’t seem to go to plan. Is he losing his touch? Normally he’d turn to his mentor, Doc, in times of trouble, but the old man's strength isn't what it used to be. Noah’s lover would be the next most obvious choice to share this burden with, but Jeremy Kincaid is about to leave for college. After all Jeremy's endured to achieve this goal, Noah won’t stand in his way, even though he fears losing the man to the joys of student life. 

Jeremy may be young and caught up in his own fights, but he's not blind to Noah’s plight, and now questions his own choices. Four years at State with a full ride will launch his future, but his present includes Noah--and a meth addict who’s become Jeremy’s own personal mission. 

When a physical attack sends Noah spinning out of control, Jeremy must reevaluate his life and plans before the man he knows and loves disappears forever.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Another Review for Same Time Next Year

Wow! Two lovely reviews back to back. This one is from Hearts on Fire Reviews. Reviewer Lucy said:
"I did love the ending, which for me upped the rating.  I did like the writing, and good or bad, Ms. Winters made me feel for these characters.  Recommended for those who believe in forever, even if it isn’t the traditional way."
Read entire review here:

Love Shown to Same Time Next Year

Reviewer Lisa at The Novel Approach had this to say about short story Same Time Next Year:
"Eden Winters makes it possible to live a lifetime in a mere thirty-two pages of story, not in the detailing of each of Greg’s and Jerome’s years, but in the showing that time is fleeting and that we are merely the borrowers, using it for as long as it’s allotted to us before we make the journey to the place where it is measured infinitely."
Read entire review here:

It's Reader Appreciation Day at The Sweet Spot

The Sweet Spot is hosting a Reader Appreciation Day, with lots of great prizes!. Stop by, read excerpts, hang out with some of your favorite authors, and enter to win cool stuff. Follow the below link:

The Sweet Spot Reader Appreciation Day.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Diversion is now at Amazon!

My latest novel, Diversion, is now available at Amazon, and it's on sale!

Find it here on Amazon.

Guest Blogging at P.D. Singer's

P.D. Singer has graciously allowed me to hijack her site today with a post entitled, "Ripping the Headlines," about the relevance of gleaning story material from your daily newspaper.

Find it here:

Review for Diversion

Lady McNeill at Mrs. Condit & Friends Read Books reviewed my latest offering, Diversion, awarding it four and a half blissful sweat peas. She had this to say:

"Ms. Winters took two not so perfect people and brought them together and gave them the ability to see and experience love."

Read entire review here:

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Coffee and Porn! And a Giveaway!

Hey ya'll! I've got a guest post over at Heidi Cullinan and Marie Sexton's joint venture blog, Coffee and Porn in the Morning (wine and sex in the afternoon.) I'm talking about semi-naked sweaty men and promoting my new novel, Diversion. One lucky commenter on the post will win an ebook copy of the book. (Everyone who wanders over will get lots of eye candy!) Contest ends April 5 at midnight.

Get your daily dose of coffee and porn here:

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Fabulous Review and Recommended Read for Summer Boys

Summer Boys was my contribution to last fall's Torquere Press Charity Sip Blitz to raise money for the It Gets Better Project. Here's a little of what reviewer Speedy had to say (and can I say that the blog's summery theme is awesome?):
What I loved about this story is how complex and authentic the characters were portrayed. Ms. Winter’s use of language, the subtle nuances of emotion, and the gradual release of burden so Ferris could find happiness was written with expert subtlety. 
Speedy awarded the story five shells and named it a Recommended Read!

Read entire review here:

Buy Summer Boys here (all proceeds go to charity):

A Brand New Icon on the Site

If you look to the upper right you'll see a new icon, part of a campaign to offer support to LGBTQ indivuals. Simply click the icon to enter the Safe Reading Zone.

The Safe Reading Zone Campaign is a website designed for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender individuals. There are several resources on the site to help those who may be questioning their sexuality, afraid of coming out due to their current situation, or are feeling bullied due to their sexual orientation. Families of LGBTQ individuals may also find this website helpful and informative to foster a healthy environment where their loved one is understood and feels supported.
You Are Not Alone

Not Exclusively, a guest post by P.D. Singer

Please welcome P.D. Singer to the blog, while she discusses. non-exclusive relationships and what constitutes cheating, and offers a snippet of her new novel, The Rare Event.

A romance is all about finding the wonderful forever love, so the happy ending is just built in. But what about the getting to the point of even noticing that there’s another man with whom forever is a good idea?

That period before the commitment is known as “dating”, and those of us who have done it know that exclusivity isn’t always part of it. In fact, the “eyes meet, no one else exists” part happens more often in stories than in life. Isn’t the deciding just as important as the final decision? And in the meantime, if the story supports it, why shouldn’t the character still play the field?

A relationship evolves, and one of the stages involves concluding that forever is a good idea. Some people take a hell of a long time to make up their minds. Sometimes the other person can’t wait any longer for a decision.

This isn’t the same as cheating. There have been no promises made, no declarations of where the boundaries are. In fact, if one of the terms of the relationship is that they aren’t exclusive, that they are both free to see other people, then they are just drawing out the dating phase. Sometimes to ridiculous proportions. 

We’ve seen real cheating: that looks different. The couple has made promises and put restrictions on what is acceptable and what is not.  Maybe “anything we both do with a third (or fourth) party is okay, because we’re doing it together.”  Or “Bye, honey, have fun at the club, I’m going to watch Netflix tonight.” There are a lot of ways to define the commitment. “No nothing with anyone else ever” is one way, and probably the one we like best, because it’s familiar and the ideal we’ve been taught to strive for. Real gay men don’t always draw the boundaries in the same places that traditional heterosexual couples do, and don’t we read them because they aren’t the same as het couples? 

But for cheating to occur, there has to be a violation in the limits that the couple has agreed to. Any definition the reader has is not something that binds them.

And if the two men haven’t moved past the dating stage and feel free to see others? I’m not about to call that cheating: they haven’t decided for themselves what their relationship is going to be. That’s what the romance is for—I’m going to read it and see how two hot men choose.

Jon and Ricky, from The Rare Event, are still working this out. Here’s an excerpt:

Almost against his will, Jon’s arms slipped around his wandering lover. “I don’t know that. What I know is that any man around you is either someone you’ve fucked, someone you’re going to fuck, or someone too straight or too contemptible to fuck, though they might do in a pinch.”

“Those aren’t bad categories. Jon, yeah, I like variety. But I keep coming back to you. Out I go, back I come.” Ricky stroked his fingers through Jon’s wet hair. “I always come back to you.”

“What if I did that?” Jon pulled away, but Ricky wasn’t letting go easily. “What if I had sex with someone else now and then?”

“You’d be entitled, I guess.” Ricky looked sideways into Jon’s eyes, confused. “But you haven’t. You wouldn’t.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t I?” Anger gave Jon the strength to jerk back, and knowing the answer made him want to pull more clothing on, to cover himself.

“It’s just… that’s not who you are.” Ricky shook his head minutely.

“Damned right that’s not who I am.” That wasn’t how Jon would have explained it had Ricky asked. “But what I don’t get is why who I am isn’t enough for you.”

He wouldn’t press more; he couldn’t say another thing without demanding something that Ricky couldn’t or wouldn’t give him, and if he stayed another second without demanding it, he’d either punch Ricky or cry. Or both. He shoved out the bedroom door, past Ricky, whose mouth was hanging open, and fled barefoot for the beach.

Ricky came outside about twenty minutes later, carrying a fried egg sandwich wrapped in a napkin. “You’re bonking after your run. Here.” Jon put down the stick he’d been using to randomly draw and dig in the sand and accepted the peace offering. “It’s all worse when you’re hungry.”

Maybe the hollow pangs in his gut weren’t just misery. Jon ripped off a corner of toast, hating that Ricky had a point.

Ricky sat down in the sand, assuming the same cross-legged position Jon had, and picked up the twig. Jon ate silently, feeling his blood sugar coming back up point by point. He licked his fingers, knowing that he’d lost control of his tongue earlier because of how much his exercise had taken out of him; he’d met other men wearing that knowing expression and kept silent. The encounter with the stranger in the beach house wasn’t the first such, and hadn’t Ricky come as close to declaring his affection as he ever had? Jon had given up the jealous scenes after the first he’d pitched, a year ago, when he hadn’t touched Ricky for a week after and had only seen him in the office in passing.

“It is,” Jon finally admitted. “But it’s bad enough the rest of the time.”

“You really hate that we’re not exclusive, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question. Ricky dug the twig deeply into the sand, finding the damp, dark layer under the surface.

“I try not to push, but yeah. I do.” Jon crumpled the napkin in his hand just for something to destroy. He looked out at the water in the bay, not at Ricky, or he’d need the napkin to wipe his eyes.

“I don’t know that I can ever be, Jon. Home base with you is as close as I’ve ever gotten.” Ricky smoothed the dry sand over, hiding the damp below. “I won’t make you a promise I can’t keep.”

“That’s something.” Jon sniffed in spite of himself. “I don’t want broken promises. Or lies.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“No, you’ve been more open than I can stand sometimes.” Ricky had never hidden his adventures, but he’d been more sparing with details after that week’s hiatus. Jon didn’t want to know more than “Did you use condoms?” There’d been a six-week gap and some blood tests before they’d been intimate again the one time Ricky had said no.

“Jon, what you want and what I want are… aren’t the same. Would you be happier if… if we didn’t see each other?” Ricky’s voice was low, almost lost in the mumble of the surf.

“Yes.” Ricky jerked around to stare at him. “No.” Jon wrapped his arms around himself, shivering in spite of the warmth of the day, and leaned into Ricky. “I don’t know.”

The hell of it, Jon thought, with his face buried in Ricky’s neck and their arms tight around each other, fallen backward onto the sand, was that he truly didn’t know.


Hedge fund trader Ricky Santeramo has it all: money, looks, and fellow trader Jonathan Hogenboom. The two couldn't be further apart: Jon is from old money, and Ricky clawed his way out of blue-collar New Jersey. Jon hedges his positions; Ricky goes for broke. Jon likes opera and the Yankees, Ricky prefers clubbing. Jon drinks wine with dinner, Ricky throws back a beer. Jon wants monogamy; Ricky likes variety.
Everything’s changing, in the stock market and their relationship. Airlines are bankrupt, the housing market is crumbling, and Jon's old friend Davis comes to town, ready for baseball and forever.

Faced with losing it all, Ricky must make the savviest trades of his life and pray for a rare event. His stocks and Jon's heart are on the line.

Same Time Next Year rides again...

My short story, Same Time Next Year, has been republished at JMS Books, and for one week only it's on sale for 20% off.

Jerome and Greg played on the dirt road halfway between their homes when they were kids, and found much better games to play there when they grew older. It's their special spot, the perfect place for Greg to propose, and the worst place possible for the accident that takes his life.

Devastated by the loss, Jerome visits that lonely road on the anniversary of Greg's death, only to discover not all endings are permanent.

Find it here at JMS Books: