An Author's Fear - The Telling 2 - Losing Jimmy

Of all the stories I've written, The Telling is the one that seems to have struck the biggest chord with readers. I've received so many beautiful letters about that story, many from veterans who felt kinship with the characters of Michael and Ryan. I also received letters from readers who'd spent their whole lives in the closet. They told me their stories, and I'm so honored they felt such a connection to me that they could discuss things they wouldn't tell others. I encouraged them to write their stories, share them with the world. Some did, some didn't. But through The Telling I met many wonderful people, some I still correspond with.

That a story I wrote could be so special to readers is humbling. They've have been asking for a sequel about Ryan and Terry. That's where fear comes in. If possible, Ryan is even more broken than Michael, and has a long road to recovery before him. Am I skilled enough as an author to do justice to his story?

The answer has been a resounding no for the past four years, which is why The Telling 2 - Losing Jimmy stalled. I didn't feel I was ready. Time has passed, and even more readers now are asking about Ryan.

The time has come. This will be a slow process and require much research, but I need to give Ryan some closure. I'm currently 21,000 words into a manuscript that should top out at about 70,000. Wish me luck.

What's in a Word? Keep Your Promises (or Remove Your Hand From My Eyes)

Today's rant post involves a pet peeve of mine, something I've only become aware of in the past few years, but that now seems to crop up everywhere. What is it? Broken promises, as the title indicates. "What?" the author says, "how can I break a promise to you? I don't even know you."

Imagine you're standing next to a window, but someone is blocking your view. They stare out the window, pleasure etched on what you can see of their face, and exclaim, "What a gorgeous view!"

Now, what would you say? Would it be something along the lines of "I wanna see"?

How many times have you read a book and witnessed the scenario I've just described? The author mentions a lovely day, a beautiful painting, etc. They're making a promise to the reader that they're about to see something amazing. What if the author then moves on and doesn't show you? Does it leave you with the impression of having a hand over your eyes?

Let's go one step further. Why tell you it's a beautiful scene at all? Why not show you what's outside that window, and let you make up your own mind?

Through a window glass blurred with age I gazed out over the lawn. The graceful fronds of a weeping willow swayed in the breeze, and cream-colored blossoms larger than my hand stood out in stark relief against the deep green of a magnolia's leaves. Not a single speck of white marred the deep blue of the sky. In the distance the Appalachian Mountains kept watch over our quiet valley, as they'd done for millenia. I couldn't help but smile. Welcome home, indeed.

One heck of a view, wouldn't you agree? And I didn't have to say "what a great view" because I showed you. I also snuck in the suggestion of why the protagonist found the view so lovely--they were home, and had only recently arrived back there.

But what if you hate the great outdoors, are allergic to magnolias, and prefer rainy days? Then I shouldn't tell you it's a great view, I should show you what's outside that window and let you be the judge.

Likeways, "What a handsome man." Everyone's tastes are not the same, so if I simply said, "He was a handsome man" you may visualize blond hair and cornflower blue eyes, a dimpled chin, etc. Then when I mention his dark beard and moustache later, you're completely thrown because you have a firm dislike for facial hair. So in telling you "he was handsome" and leaving it at that, as an author I'm telling you what to think.

Why don't I simply show you and let you make up your own mind?

Chestnut eyes crinkled at the corner when Max laughed, his gleaming smile peeking out from a neatly trimmed moustache and beard which framed his mouth, leaving his cheeks bare, exposing fine cheekbones a model would kill for. Dark lashes closed over his eyes when he glanced down. His widely set eyes and oft-broken nose stood out against a sallow complexion, but even after ten thousand years, I'd never tired of his face. 

Lately I've been revisiting some of my old stories, cringing when I find examples similar to the ones I've given of telling the reader instead of showing them, but I'm working to improve. In every What's in a Word post, I'm not pointing fingers at others' works, but at my own, and hoping that by sharing what I've learned I can help someone else.

Lovely Review for Collusion

The weekend is winding down and Monday is nearly upon us, but my Sunday is ending on a happy note. A short while ago I received word of a lovely new review for Collusion at The Armchair Reader.

Reviewer Sadonna had this to say about the story:

"This is definitely a sequel that lives up to the first book.  If you haven’t read Diversion yet, go and get it right away.  These are really good books!"

Read entire review here:

Introducing: Thorns by Feliz Faber

I love a variety of books, but the ones I crave, the ones with a special place in my heart, the ones I reread over and over, are the ones that entertain me, make me think, and teach me new and interesting facts without my even realizing it. Thorns is one of those books. 

With Thorns, author Feliz Faber has done for horseracing what she did for falconinig in her book City Falcon: taken a lesser known topic, made it relevant to readers, made if fascinating, and with a deft hand wove in a love story. Only, we get not one sweeping romance here but two, and a rich background steeped in intrigue. Oh, and did I mention that even the most minor of characters is fully realized?

From California to the French countryside, the author is our tour guide, leading along through quaint pubs, to the inner workings of a horse training farm, and gives us a peek into the lives of four fascinating, complex men. Ah, but I've come to love Will and Francis, Louis and Nic, and will be revisiting them soon. 

What? You haven't read it yet? Be sure to hurry on over to Stumbling Over Chaos and get your name in the hat for a copy of Thorns. 

That said, please welcome Feliz, who gives us more insight into racing, her characters, and how this novel came to be. 

***

Someone recently referred to my new novel, Thorns, as "Dick Francis Slash"—which pleased me greatly, because of course my book is a homage to one of my favorite authors to whom I owe hours  and hours of unalloyed reading pleasure. In fact, you can hardly say “mystery” and “horseracing” in one sentence without mentioning in the same breath Dick Francis, the doyen of crime novels that smell of thoroughbreds, competition and British stiff-upper-lippedness. 

Dick Francis, for those who don’t know, used to be a steeplechase jockey before he retired from horseracing after an accident in 1957. Taking the phrase “write what you know” to heart, Dick Francis then proceeded to write mystery novels set around the world of horses and racing. His first novels often featured horseracing professionals of some kind: jockeys or ex-jockeys, trainers, bloodstock agents, veterinarians and so on. But as his work became more popular, his heroes acquired other professions, too. It never ceased to amaze me who all he managed to link to the world of horseracing: tax accountants, painters, meteorologists, pilots, wine merchants, jewellers, travel writers, architects, insurance agents, glassblowers, and even a Secret Service Agent (my personal favourite of Dick Francis’s heroes, btw.). And those people’s jobs were no mere props; detailed research about their respective regular professions made them real.

As diverse as their professions is the number of crimes they get involved in, often unexpectedly. Murder, yes, but also doping, kidnapping, horse theft, sabotage… Dick Francis’s specialty are unexpected plot twists that often hit the reader as hard as they do the main characters, sticking the latter into a dire dilemma. It’s breathtaking how Francis always manages to get the poor guys out of it again (albeit often not unscathed).   

Except for horses, Dick Francis’ heroes, whatever profession they may pursue, share some common traits which add to their charm, at least as I’m concerned. Mostly, it’s the fact that they are ordinary people who have extraordinary things happen to them. Facing dire threats to themselves or their loved ones, those common men outgrow themselves fighting powerful enemies, always by tapping into hidden strengths inside themselves they didn’t even realize they had until they needed them. Dick Francis’s heroes are no invincible supermen. They see what needs doing and do it with determination and silent endurance. Resilient is the best word for it, I think. Who wouldn’t want to be like them?

I, for my part, always wanted to write a character who, like a Dick Francis hero, is an ordinary man, unexpectedly and inauspiciously drawn into something big that changes his whole life. So, along came Will Yeats. It seemed natural to place him—and his lover—before the backdrop of the horseracing world.

Yes, Dick Francis was a big influence on my writing, on Thorns, and its as of yet unfinished prequel/ spinoff “Run for the Roses”, which will tell Nic and Louis’s story.

Here’s to you, Sir. Thank you for everything.

How can love between two men possibly be responsible for a horse’s death during the Kentucky Derby? Reporter Will Yeats wants to know the truth.

Seventeen years ago, a love affair between a jockey and a horse trainer and a tragic accident on the racetrack scandalized the horseracing world. But Nic Pithiviers and Louis Meerow seem to have no desire to set the record straight: they refuse the interview and send attorney Francis LeBon to question Will’s motives.

Francis has a special place in his heart for Nic and Louis, who taught him to take pride in himself as a gay man, and he’ll stop at nothing to protect them from a gossipmongering reporter. However, Francis doesn’t expect the reporter’s honesty and genuine determination to exonerate two men falsely accused… or the growing attraction to Will he feels.

While visiting with Nic and Louis at their horse training center in France, Will uncovers a web of intrigue, secrets, and old lies, and he unwittingly sets a series of perilous events into motion that not only threaten to destroy his budding relationship with Francis, but Nic and Louis’s decades-long commitment as well.

Find Thorns at Dreamspinner Press in ebook, and in print. 

Sunday Review: Pitch by Will Parkinson

If you've been on my blog lately you'll know that I met Will Parkinson online several years ago when he commented on one of my books. We discussed writing, and he sent me samples of his own stories. Unedited, unbetaed even, I recognized talent, and the ability to tug on readers' heartstrings and enmesh them into the lives of his characters.

He disappeared for a while and I worried, until one day he returned, asking, "Would you like to see my novel?"

Words can't describe how relieved I was that he hadn't stopped writing me because he'd given up on his dream. No, he was far too busy pursuing it wholeheartedly.

His young-adult coming-of-age story took me back, sat me in a classroom, and had me nervously glancing over my shoulder at the popular kids who could easily make my day miserable with a single word or laugh. I shook in protagonist Taylor's shoes in fear of being bashed, and breathed more easily with best friend Benny in the room. I also felt the yearning in Taylor's soul for Jackson, the love interest he thought he couldn't have.

When an author can draw you so completely into a story, that's a gift. But there is darkness here, an evil force that comes into Taylor's life, and although it takes physical form, it can also be a metaphor for the pitfalls lurking in wait for young people today: abusive relationships (as in Taylor's case) drugs, bullying, sexting, alcohol, etc. Mr. Parkinson swept me along on this downward spiral. Silence is the foe's greatest weapon, and in this story, it creates a divide between Taylor and those who might help him. Taylor's silence, and the role it plays, struck a chord with me.  "Why didn't he just say something?" you ask. That's the thing about being manipulated and controlled--you're controlled completely. Oh, how I longed to hug Benny for caring enough to not give up and to get to the heart of the matter. And for helping to pick up the pieces in the aftermath. He's a hero in so many quiet ways. 

What also stayed with me was Taylor's journey of self-discovery. More than meet-someone-great-and-fall-in-love, Pitch is, at it's heart, the tale of a young man's learning to love himself, trust himself, in preparation for loving another. Yes, he must stumble and fall on his journey, and find out how and when to let others pick him up while he learns to stand on his own two feet. 

That brings me to the wonderful people I met in the reading of this book. While Taylor holds a special place in my heart, he's not alone, he's joined by the steadfast best friend, and comes to understand just how special he is when he befriends the wounded Addy. Sometimes it takes knowing someone less fortunate than ourselves to show us how blessed we truly are.  

I even understood Becca, having once known someone like her, driven by others people's expectations until the lines between fact and fantasy blurred.

This is a character driven story, and slow unfolding of plot, nicely paced. It's a debut novel? Really? **Looks back on my own debut novel for comparison and shudders at my unfortunate word choices and stumbling dialog** From what I'm seeing, Mr. Parkinson holds great promise, as further shown in his short story, 500 Miles. I look forward to watching him grow as a writer, and in reading about the people that exist in his head. I wouldn't be opposed to revisiting Taylor, Jackson, Benny, and Addy down the road, to find out how their lives progressed. And yes, I'd like to see some character developement in Becca, too, for she's a part of the story as well.

But for me, the very best part of the story? Watching a brand new author spread his wings and fly.

Find Pitch here:

Dreamspinner Press e-book

Dreamspinner Press - Print

New Author Alert! Will Parkinson with YA Novel "Pitch"

Hey, ya'll. I love introducting fabulous new talent, and the author joining me today  holds a special place in my heart. Several years ago we began a discussion about on of my books, and he told me about his own stories, allowing me a peek at his work. Sadly, we lost touch, until one day he returned, with a lovely coming of age tale called Pitch. I was lucky enough to get to preview this story, and let me tell you, it really warmed my heart. As the title suggests, baseball figures into the plot.

The author has agreed to an interview to let readers know a bit more about him and his work. So please welcome Will Parkinson to the site.

Eden: Why YA? 

Will: I like the feeling that someone might read a story that I wrote and find that it helps them with something they’re facing, something they have faced in the past, or just something where they might look and ‘understand’. Also, someone very important to me reminded me that giving back can help us move forward.

Eden: In Pitch, I adored the best frend character, Benny. Was there ever a Benny in your life?

Will: No, but how I wish there was. Of all the characters I ever created, I love Benny the most. He’s a gentle giant of a man, who is at his best when he’s defending his friends. He hates bullies and will not hesitate to stand up to them. Though his body is what scares them initially, most find his mind to be his greatest weapon.

Eden: What are you working on now? Will you stick with YA, or do  you intend to branch out?

Will: I’m working on Wet Paint, a sequel to Pitch. It’s Addy’s story (Addy Dean is one of the characters). A few of the people who read the story for me insisted that I had to give Addy a happily ever after. Unfortunately for Addy, there are several bumps along the way, including one VERY big bump.

As for the future, I’ve written 500 Miles and Mr. Average as Parker Williams for MLR and have co-written one book with KC Wells entitled Someone to Keep Me. We’re also planning a second and third book.

 Check the end of this post for a chance to win a copy of Pitch, or a gift certificate to the online bookseller of your choice. 

Pitch

by Will Parkinson

The day Jackson Kern walks into Taylor Andrews’s classroom is a momentous day in Taylor's life. He's had crushes before, sure, but as time goes on, this is starting to look a whole lot more serious. Still, Jackson doesn’t return Taylor’s feelings.

Taylor has his own admirers, though. Kevin Richards is used to getting what he wants, and what he wants right now is Taylor, so when Taylor rejects him, Kevin retaliates. At first Taylor’s entourage rallies around him, but then Kevin takes his deception one step further and Taylor sees his support dwindle, teaching him the valuable lesson about who he can truly consider a friend.

Excerpt

PG only - YA so it doesn't get explicit.

TAYLOR ANDREWS glanced toward the door and noticed a young man, shoulders hunched, waiting outside the classroom. As he continued to stare, the newcomer took a deep breath, threw back his shoulders, and lifted his head before he stepped into Mrs. Wagner’s homeroom. He walked with purpose toward the front of the classroom and handed the teacher a sheet of paper without saying a word.

After a brief moment of studying the paper, Mrs. Wagner smiled at the young man before turning to the students filling the desks of her classroom. “Class, this is Jackson Kern. It’s his first day here, and I need a volunteer to help him get acclimated.”

Taylor looked at the new guy and felt his face heat. He grabbed his ever-present sketchpad from his backpack, his desire to capture this stranger’s likeness overwhelming. The guy was… well, gorgeous. Taylor’s hands flew over the paper as he took in Jackson Kern’s beautiful well-sculpted face, rich chocolate-brown eyes, and dark, thick hair. He had a toned body, maybe a swimmer? God, what he wouldn’t give to….

“I’ll show him around, Mrs. Wagner,” Becca Monroe offered brightly, interrupting Taylor’s wayward thoughts.

“Thank you, Becca,” Mrs. Wagner said with a smile before turning to the newest addition to the class. “Jackson, please take a seat. Becca will walk with you and show you the building and where your classes will be. If you have any questions, just ask her.”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you,” the new kid replied. Taylor noted how polite Jackson was, unlike most of the guys in his tenth-grade class.  

Jackson parked his tall, lanky body in the seat next to Becca and started talking. Taylor watched as Becca’s eyes roamed over Jackson’s frame, and she licked her lips. He could tell she was already on the prowl. She was a pretty enough girl, if you liked them. Long reddish-brown hair, big green eyes, and a big… ego.

She was hot and she knew it. She was also the kind of girl who was only out for one thing. Herself. She was junior varsity head cheerleader, something his best friend, Benny Peters, always had a lot of fun commenting on. She’d dated the captains of most of the sports teams, always switching to a new guy at the beginning of the season.

“Damn lucky girl,” Taylor muttered. If he hadn’t been enjoying the sight of the new boy, he’d have volunteered for guide duty. Oh, the things he wanted to show him… not that he had any experience; he’d never even kissed another boy. He worked hard at trying not to look at other guys. The thought of being outed in high school scared him, so much so that he’d sometimes have panic attacks when he thought about it—clammy skin, problems breathing, feeling faint. He hated those, really hated not being in control. It always made him feel weak and needy.

The bell rang, startling Taylor out of his reverie, and the students moved like cattle, heading off to their next class. Taylor scowled when he saw Becca take the new guy by the arm and lead him from the classroom. As they passed he heard Jackson ask, “Do you know who I talk to about the baseball team?”

“What position do you play, Jackson?” Becca asked excitedly, ignoring Jackson’s question.

“I’m a pitcher.”

Taylor could hear the excitement in Becca’s voice, and he knew the reason. Baseball tryouts would be in the next week or two, and she needed a new ball-playing boyfriend since her ex, Cody Daniels, graduated. It was as if she’d won the freaking lottery.

Jackson was hot and he played sports. For Becca that was definitely the best of both worlds.  

Taylor chuckled. Oh, how he’d love to be that boy’s catcher.

But damn, Becca was probably going to be all over that anyway.

Not that he’d ever have a shot with someone like Jackson.

According to Benny, he wasn’t bad-looking. Benny often said he was jealous of Taylor’s curly blond hair, which he himself despised.

Besides, Taylor thought, Benny’s straight. What does he know?

Jackson was probably three inches taller than Taylor’s five foot eight, but it wasn’t his height that bothered him as much as the extra weight. He was no one special, and someone like Jackson Kern would never give him the time of day. That’s just how things went.

Over the next week, Taylor would see Jackson throughout the school. Other than homeroom they didn’t have any classes together, but he noticed him in the hallway or heading to the gym. Taylor’s heart fluttered every time he caught a glimpse of Jackson. He loved the way his lip curled when he was amused or the way he arched an eyebrow when he seemed to be curious about something. The thing that struck him most, though, was the fact that Jackson was so poised and confident when he was with a group. People hung on his every word. It almost seemed like he was holding court. People just tended to gravitate to Jackson. His rich baritone voice had a soothing, hypnotic effect on Taylor from a distance. He couldn’t help but wonder what it did to the people Jackson was actually talking with. He watched Jackson in the school’s weight room one afternoon and stood transfixed as the muscles in Jackson’s chest and arms strained with every repetition. Taylor began to sweat and unconsciously licked his lips as he watched Jackson working his leg muscles. His pulse raced when Jackson pulled off his shirt, the dusting of dark hair across the expanse of his chest matted from sweat. Taylor swore he could smell Jackson’s scent, musky but sweet. He wanted to get closer but knew it would seem weird, so he reluctantly tore himself away and went back to class.

Taylor was envious of Jackson’s build. He studied his own body in the mirror and sighed. He was plump. That was the only way to describe it. There was no muscle definition. He tried to maintain his weight but couldn’t resist pizza. He’d tried to work out with Benny, who seemed obsessed with his body, but it just wasn’t for him. Taylor sighed heavily. He was so far out of Jackson Kern’s league, he’d never have a shot with someone like him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the view.

TAYLOR glanced over at Benny, comfortably stretched out on the sofa, thumbing through Taylor’s latest sketches. At six foot one and weighing in at nearly 215 pounds, Benny had always been one of Taylor’s favorite sketch subjects. His eyes were the coolest brown color with small flecks of gold in them. His sandy hair was always cut short, but not like a buzz cut, which Taylor had to admit was his favorite kind of haircut.

Benny had always stood up for Taylor and it was that fact which made Benny the only one Taylor had come out to. No matter what else happened between the two, Taylor was sure Benny would always be there for him.

“Benny, what would you say if I told you I was crushing?”

Taylor asked, sitting up on his bed and tossing a rolled-up pair of socks into the laundry basket.

Benny met Taylor’s eyes as he laid the sketches across his chest. “I’d say who this time? Already over… what was his name?

Mason? Dixon? Something southern.”

“His name was Caleb,” Taylor groaned, rolling his eyes. “And he was a jerk. Remember how he humiliated and made Toby cry when he came into the locker room and found Caleb throwing his clothes into the shower?”

“Yeah, I remember. I was the one who got him something to wear for the rest of the day. I can’t stand bullies,” Benny snarled.

“So who has your undies in a bunch this time?

“I’m talking about the new guy, Jackson Kern. There’s just something about him. He’s… I dunno, different. He’s not loud or annoying. He seems really laid-back. And he’s totally hot. He just seems… perfect.” Taylor sighed wistfully. “I can’t imagine him ever doing a mean thing to anyone.”  

Benny tried to suppress a snort. “And how long is this one going to last? A month? Two tops. You go through crushes faster than I go through underwear.”

“When you change them twice a year that’s not too difficult.” Taylor snickered.

Taylor was surprised when Benny hit him with a pillow, and the fight was on. He grabbed the other pillow and swung at Benny, who dodged and laughed. For such a big guy, Benny was surprisingly agile. They smacked each other around, laughing all the while, until Taylor cried uncle.

After they were exhausted, Benny turned to him and said with a sympathetic smile, “Taylor, talk to the guy. Pretty much the worst that could happen is he’s not interested.”

Taylor stared glumly up at the ceiling, his thoughts turning once more to Jackson. “No, the worst that could happen is he’s a homophobic asshat who wants to kick the crap out of me.”

“Yeah,” Benny observed thoughtfully, “but at least he’d touch you. That’s more than you’ve ever gotten before.” He gave Taylor a gleeful grin, as if waiting for the comment to sink in fully.

And as soon as it did, Taylor lunged at Benny, and the fight was back on. Once Benny succeeded in pinning Taylor, his expression turned serious as he said, “Look, just be cool. Don’t obsess. If you want to impress him, show him the pictures you drew of him. You’re really good at doing these.”

Taylor’s cheeks heated. He could never show his work to Jackson. He didn’t think they were good enough to share with anyone other than Benny. He’d been puttering around with drawing for years. He had several sketchpads full of various things that caught his eye. He loved to do drawings of nature scenes, people, and animals. He’d done several of Trip, his Siberian husky, before the poor dog died that still brought tears when Taylor looked at them. It was just a hobby, though. His father always told him he needed a real career and constantly reminded him that art wouldn’t amount to anything in the real world. He shook his head sadly. No, there was no way Jackson would ever see his work.

STANDING by the bleachers near the dugout, Taylor couldn’t help but wonder why he was there. Baseball tryouts held no interest for him. In fact, he’d always found the game kind of stupid, yet here he was. His gaze landed on Jackson Kern. Yeah, that was something he really wanted, to see Jackson play the game.

Jackson took the center thingy… the mound or whatever it’s called. Taylor had spent a good deal of time reading about baseball.

He figured he should know something about it, just in case Jackson ever spoke to him. Still, he was having a hard time wrapping his head around all the rules and terms. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try, though. He pulled out his sketchbook and did a few rough outlines, wanting to fill them out later. Jackson threw a few pitches to the catcher, loosening up. Mitch Daniels, Cody’s younger brother, stepped up and tapped his bat on the ground. Jackson brought his arms up near his chest, struck a pose, and shook his head slightly.

After a moment he leaned back and threw the ball. It went straight across the plate at blinding speed. Mitch swung at it and missed completely. When Jackson finished the inning, allowing no hits, he marched back to the dugout; the coach’s jaw fell open as he rushed out to meet Jackson.

“Kid, what’s your name?”

“Jackson, sir. My friends call me Jax.”

“Well, Jax, if you can throw like that with consistency, you’re gonna be our ace. I can tell,” the coach said, practically drooling over the young prospect.

Taylor thought he saw Jackson… Jax blush. By the end of the tryouts, not one person had hit anything Jackson threw. When the coach told him he had a spot, Jackson smiled so big and wide, Taylor was sure his heart would stop. Then Becca came running over and threw her arms around the team’s new pitcher. Taylor turned in disgust and started shuffling away, pausing to take a last look at Jackson. He was all hot and sweaty, and it looked really, really good on him. Taylor knew that’s what he was going to be thinking about when he went to bed.

 

TAYLOR found himself drawn to watch the practices. He kept trying to tell himself it was stupid, and he knew it was, but he really enjoyed watching Jackson. He’d been going to watch practice every day for two weeks when he saw Jackson turn in his direction. For just a second he thought, more like hoped, that Jackson was looking at him. His eyes locked on Jackson, and his mouth went dry, wishing that he’d come over to him, put his arms around him, whisper in his ear… but then the guy turned and walked over to the rest of the team, clearing the field for the next inning. Taylor’s heart sank, realizing it was all wishful thinking on his part.

“COME on, Taylor, crack a book. I came over to study, not to watch you stare at the ceiling,” Benny huffed, pushing a pile of laundry off the chair and parking himself at the desk. “And would it kill you to clean up a little bit? This place is a sty, man.”

Taylor never even registered the reproach in Benny’s voice.

All he could think about was Jackson.

“Benny, I’m going nuts. I know it’s never gonna go anywhere, but I can’t stop going to see him,” Taylor groaned.

Benny stared at him, eyes wide. “Wow, never saw you this bad before. You’d always crush for a few weeks and then see some new hottie that made you forget the old one. Maybe you really do have it bad for this guy,” Benny muttered.

Swinging his legs over, Taylor sat on the edge of the bed, grinning with excitement. “You’ve got no idea. Yesterday morning I saw him with a smear of toothpaste in the corner of his mouth. I swear it was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen, and I just wanted to lick it off.”

Benny’s lips tightened into a grimace. “Toothpaste is hot?

God, you’re so weird, Taylor. I hope you won’t be upset if I don’t admit to knowing you when we’re in public.”  

Taylor smirked, remembering everything with vivid detail. “It was hot! If it wasn’t for the fact that Becca rubbed it off for him, which really pissed me off, by the way, I’d have stared at it all day.”

“So he and Becca are together?” Benny asked, putting the book down and finally turning to face Taylor.

“Yeah, I guess. She’s always hanging on him and hugging him. It’s totally disgusting,” Taylor sneered.

“Because it’s what you want to be doing?” Benny wondered aloud, keeping his voice low.

“Maybe.” Taylor sighed. “Either way, this just reinforces my dislike of public displays of affection.”

“So when are you gonna finally talk to him? How hard can it really be?” Benny asked patiently.

Taylor could see the look of pity on his friend’s face, but he snapped, “Well, you get a girl to notice you and then come back and give me some pointers, okay?”

Taylor knew it wasn’t fair. Benny was all about his schoolwork. His parents were always so strict about everything, and the schoolwork had to come first.

Benny quirked an eyebrow and stared at Taylor condescendingly. “I don’t need a girl to notice me, Tay. I’m not the one who needs validation. Maybe you should just join the monks.

I’m sure then you’ll get plenty of hot action,” Benny chuckled as he opened his math book. There was going to be a stupid quiz tomorrow, which, naturally, Benny was going to ace. He always aced them. Benny’s grades were important to him. As it stood Benny had a near-perfect GPA and would likely be valedictorian as a senior.

He and Benny had been the best of friends since kindergarten.

Taylor knew Benny would do almost anything for him, even if it included telling him things about himself he really didn’t want to hear, especially when it was the truth. Taylor knew he was a chicken, but he also knew unrequited love would be better than being humiliated in front of or by Jackson.

***

WILL PARKINSON believes that no matter what obstacles are thrown in the path of young love, it will always find a way to win in the end. He wants his characters to have their happily ever after, but that doesn’t mean that it’s going to come easily.

None of this would have happened if he had followed the advice he was given many years ago. “What are you wasting your time on that for? It’s never going to amount to anything.” He believed it for the longest time, abandoning characters he’d created in his childhood.

He picked up his very first m/m story by a writer named Eden Winters, who was an absolute joy when they corresponded. She asked him if he wrote and he told her the story. Eden explained to Will that the voices in his head would never go away and how he needed to let them out. With that thought in mind, Will put e-pen to e-paper once more. It was truly a liberating experience and one he has no intention of giving up again.

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Frogs! Lots and Lots of Frogs!

No, folks, this isn't another tale of critter home invasion, it's the sharing of two awesome reviews from The Book Vixen, who awards frogs when scoring a book's enjoyability:

Diversion weighed in at four and a half frogs. Here's some of what reviewer J9 had to say:

"Excellent romantic suspense with two stellar leads and a fiery romance that I couldn’t put down." 

Read entire review here:

Now, after a review like that, I didn't think it could get any better, but the sequel, Collusion, earned five frogs!

"Even better than book 1 in the series and offers the PERFECT ending to a stellar romance."

Read entire review here:

Thank you, J9 and The Book Vixen Reviews.

Heh. I guess I should tell them that Collusion isn't the end. Look for the third in the series, Corruption, to release this fall. I'm hoping to do a cover reveal within the next few weeks.

And remember, if you haven't yet gotten a copy of Diversion, there's still time to enter to win one at Allison Cassatta's blog: