Welcome Gentle Readers

This blog tends to wander from its main purpose -- updates on my fiction. I do have updates and excerpts of my work. But I also write about my obsessions -- food, friends and pop culture and my weird life in Los Angeles. Enjoy!

Monday, July 31, 2006

9/10 of the Law -- More on Hot Cops and Films

Old business first. I was asked several times if I had any photos from my adventures in producer and slash land. Why yes. Here they are. First, is The Privateers shoot with Karl Urban. Next is a mini shoot with Jason David Frank, our Power Rangers friend. The third is a fraction of the photos from the France adventure with Garett Maggart.


Forgive the late post of the blog. I've been distracted by a number of issues vying for my attention. The most amazing thing about having a scrip turned into a reality is the incredible amount of minutia that's generated. Because of something Jon and I wrote, Phil and I have to figure out many glamorous things like how many port-a-potties we need on a shoot and how often they should be emptied. And whether or not the large dumpster rental comes with complimentary landfill fees. The big concern though has been heat. How do we keep our actors' skin from melting off their bones like the Nazis at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark?

Of course, you may think it's because we want our actors comfy. Well, I do, but my 1st AD doesn't want to lose time which really is money. If the actors sweat, they have to change. If they have to change that's time and an extra costume. If they fall backward from heat exhaustion, it's a trip to the hospital and that loses time. The reason shoots feed everyone isn't because we have to. We just have to provide time for meals. It's to keep the actors from wandering away from the set. Yes, it's cold blooded, but that's his job. I do care though. And I do get to do some fun things this week like see how well the actors can ride a horse. I fielded a call today from an oh so perky agent's assistant who wanted to know if the call back at the Equestrian center was the audition with the horses. That's where the patience comes in.

Back to the books. "The Price of Surrender' has left the nest. The characters are resting though I suspect I may do a third novel set in that world. For now, I'm going full throttle on my cop novel. The title of the blog this week is the issue I'm fighting with.

The word is possession. I'm trying to subtly build the sexual tension between two men. One of them thinks he is straight. The orientation of the other isn't immediately apparent. Unlike typical slash ficiton, my main character doesn't immediately recognize his gay-ness upon meeting his soul mate. Thus I'm writing a seduction that may or may not be happening. The way I want the reader to know that what Hague suspects actually is happening is through Jordan's slowly growing possessiveness. It's not a Lifetime movie of the week kind of possessive. Jordan recognizes Hague's unhappiness and wants to ease that as well as protect him. When they are together, Jordan is in Hague's space as much as he can get away with. To the casual male observer at work, they got chummy quickly, but there isn't anything really strange other than no one thought Hague would ever be chummy.

It's a dance of subtlety that has be sensual enough to keep the reader intrigued. And it's slow going because of that.

That's all for now. I'm hoping to have excerpts next week.

Ah, this week's contest. That's a thoughie. I keep thinking I'll give a big prize to anyone who could tell me how to keep cattle cool during a shoot in a county where they've been dropping like flies. But that's hardly fair.

I was going to ask you who was The Pwer Station, but that's too easy. Tell me anyway, if you're inclined.

But this week's quiz question is Billy Idol and Tommy James and the Shondells had a hit with the same song. What was it? The Tommy James version is still popular at Philly weddings in South Philly. But that's not important. A Hard copy of 'The Price of Surrender' is the prize.

Until next time.

Monday, July 24, 2006

The Fanfic Slash Thing

I had this whole blog about possessive men, but it's still half formed. I do have fun thinking about it though. Maybe next week.

But for the new contest. I'll try music again and make it a little more difficult. It's an 80s song that meant a lot to me. the lyric is I found a picture of you....those were the happiest days of my life...

Name the song and win a print copy of 'The Price of Surrender' or a lovely massage kit from Kama Sutra products. Tell me which song and artist inspired the one in the clue and the artist and win both 'Surrender Books' or a gift card to amazon.com. You will also impress the heck out of me.


Down to business. I discovered fanfic kinda late for a fan. I was a full grown adult when I first read Price of the Phoenix and Fate of the Phoenix, two really early Trek novels. In them, I found an uncomfortably close relationship between Kirk and Spock. When I asked a longtime friend and Trekkie about that, he told me of slash. I was appalled. In retrospect, I may have had the current version of the characters in my head (1980s era), and I just did not want to think of them having sex. Even the young Kirk I grew up with (for those of you who think you have trek street creds, I saw them first run and attended the second convention that was ever held), though hot, was not someone I ever wanted to think about naked. I rejected slash.

About ten years pass. Along with many other things that happened in my life, I learned a lot about writing in general. I realized that these slash writers were responding to the fact that these buddy characters in many TV shows were closest to each other. Women were transitory at best, and leathal at worst. I came to an understanding of why they would extrapolate that relationship to its logical conclusion. Heck, the Starsky and Hutch leads actually called the relationship a love story. It made more sense to me though I still couldn't see myself writing it.

When slash next came to my attention, I was in LA and trying to be an industry writer. Voyager turned up. I was fascinated with the characters who were well formed, but annoyed by the plots which were dopey. Before the show came out, I saw an interview with Kate Mulgrew who said she liked to say the word thruster. I liked the growl in her voice. I generally liked the way she barked orders. Oh, I forgot to mention, I realized I was a dominatrix shortly before moving to LA. Janeway sounded like one to me. Thus to amuse myself during the dopey plots I deigned to watch (any episode with the word anolmoly in it, I refused to watch -- that included the pilot), I would say things like 'yes, mistress!' to her commands.

I was stressed about trying to make LA work, and my mother was gravely ill thousands of miles away. I wrote the first of the Secret Logs of Mistress Janeway to get away from both situations and as an experiment with voice. I had trouble finding my writing voice in grad school, and this was a low pressure way of finding it. They were originally for me. I had no plans to post them anywhere. Origanally, they had no dialogue. They were meant to be a true journal. But they got posted first on the old usenet system and then to a web page a friend back home created.

Then, the weirdness that is LA began to happen. Jon was working in a Santa Monica toy store called Puzzle Zoo. It's fabulous and freqented by many celebrities. Anyway, one of those was Richard Hatch. His close friend, Sophie had sold some stories to Voyager. Conversations drifted from the Galactica blaster in the case to Voyager and my logs. It seemed I had a fan amongst the cast. The next thing I knew, Sophie and I were friends. That lead to attending Brannon Braga's birthday party. I am a girl raised with formalities. I don't attend parties without a present. I brought Mr. Braga a copy of the Logs which he hence kept on his desk. That's how the producers of Trekkies found it. I was the subject of an internet hunt that lead to the strangest day of my life to date in LA. I attended a premiere of Turbo: Power Rangers movie as Jon and I had befriended Tommy, the White Ranger. He would later figure prominently in how our first feature happened, but that is for another day. I was hiding my corsett under a heavy jacket during the kiddie film, because I had the Trekkies interview that afternoon.

Trekkies brought me infamy in fandom and in the SF TV community. It was fun and annoying. On the fan front, I got invited to conventions to speak about slash, and was even challenged to write for other fandoms. That's how I began writing for The Sentinel and Due South. All of it was experimental writing for me. I could play with characters and prose and had nothing at risk. I never imagined that the worlds would colide, but they did.

The first intersection came because of The Privateers. Karl Urban had been the subject of a lot of fic even while he was on Xena:Warrior Princess. And since he attended a lot of conventions where my work was known, I had to 'out' myself as a slash writer early in our negotiations. That was fine, because he thought it was funny, and I'd never written any Xena stuff. There wasn't a conflict. I had even pooh poohed a long time S&H writer over not being able to separate the actor from the character around then. I never thought I'd have that problem.

But then, Demon Under Glass happened. I was well into the Logs by then, and determined to finish the series. I had it on good authority that the Voyager cast read the and found them funny. I thought I could handle working with actors I'd written about. I 'outed' myself to my leads. Jason Carter already knew. We had met at my most infamous Toronto Trek where I spanked a Klingon and Richard Hatch reneged on reading from the Logs. Garett Maggart took it all in stride. I thought that I could continue writing slash and working with actors. But after the film, I spent three weeks traveling with Garett. I also found he's a neighborhood overform mine and it's close enough for frequent contact and Richard Burgi ended up in my kitchen at some point looking for chicken. Another long story. It wasn't so much that I felt guilty about writing the fic, but I no longer viewed them as sexy. I really like them, but they're like having really crazy brothers. Thoughts of them any other way is like --eeeewwww.

And artistically I was changing. I found my voice, and I found I liked writing novels again. Grad school nearly killed it, but slash brought it back. They became my refuge from the group think of film making. I wanted to create my own worlds and play in them. I did finish the Logs. The last one was posted in 2005. But slash was no longer as satisfying for me.

So, that's the history. I still have my fannish creds. I reach out to slash writers to get the best of them professionally published. I still read the stuff. And I'm back at conventions. I think fans create some wonderful things. I've been priviledged to see some fine works inspired by Demon Under Glass. I think it's possible to be of both worlds, but I wonder how many could continue writing while straddling.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Why Music Doesn't work and other raving

This may be a part one of two. There's a lot going on. For the last few days I've been listening to music while writing. Actually, it's more like listening to music while trying to write. It's not working very well. Usually, I can listen to anything going on around me and concentrate. Lately, both the guys in my home have been into video games. Normally, I don't mind them either. I actually get into the story lines sometimes. We actually bought our roommate the last Legacy of Kain and had him play it so I could have some closure with the story. It wasn't much closure, but there was some.

Lately though, both have been playing Ratchett and Clank: Going Commando. I enjoy the series well enough, but after the tenth time of either one of them trying for the same skill point, I'm ready to hurt someone. And my usual distraction, the CBC news online has been down. I never did hear their coverage of Bastille Day. Not that it's mattered since Peter Mansbridge went on vacation. That is one sexy anchorman.... but I digress.

I can't listen to any recent music. I'm an old fogey that way. My interest in music tends to end somewhere in the 80s before techno. So I listen to the stuff I grew up dancing to. Unfortunately, it also makes me think of what I was doing at the time I was dancing to the stuff. Then, I'm totally out of whatever I'm writing. And if it isn't memories, the lyrics are distracting me. I probably never paid much attention to them when I was dancing, but now I can't get away from them. For example:

"Smell like I sound, I'm lost and I'm found..."What the hairy heck does that mean? It's been bugging the crap out of me which has distracted me from getting my pages in. Oh, here's a good contest clue. Tell me what song that's from and I'll send you a print version of 'The Price of surrender.' Tell me what it means and you have my gratitude.

It's almost one am. I have to be up and dressed and professional looking by 7 am for the auditions. They aren't due to start until 9:30, but my assistant will arrive too early and someone's agent or manager will be desperately calling by 8am. I should be asleep, but I'll just worry about some detail or other and toss and turn. Besides, my cops are doing some itneresting things right now. I should get it all down while it's vivid in my mind.

The Bangles are playing now. I didn't dance to that music as much as I drove listening to it. I can focus a little bit better. I should get back to work.

I'll cover the auditions tomorrow.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

E Book Release for 'The gift of surrender'

The Gift of Surrender, is releasing on Friday, July 14th. Forbidden Publications will be having a release celebration on Friday night in the FP chatroom at 6pm pacific, 7pm mountain, 8 pm central or 9 pm eastern. I'll be there. I hope you will, too.

Find the book:


Visit the chat:



Monday, July 10, 2006

Anatomy of Hot Cops

Yes, yet another blog! Don't get used to it. I've got a tiny windo this weekend and the urgeto work on the Freak Experts novel. I thought I would share some of how I go about writing novels and share the synopsis.

But to last week's business first. No one guessed who the actor was that inspired my Prince in the third Surrender novel, now titled The Joys of Surrender. The actor is Karl Urban. He was my lead pirate in a shortwe did eons ago called The Privateers and he was Eomer in the Rings films. He came to mind as the inspiration forthe dark Prince who steals away the very grown up Princess Kirsi's heart as I watched him frwoning his way through the Bourne Supremecy. I wanted a love interest who was grumpy as Kirsi is happy. And of course, he had to be hot. Voila! Alas, we have no winner for last week. I'm not doing a contest this week. I'm too tired to think of a question. Maybe next week to co-incide with the release of The Price of Surrender in print and The Gift of Surrender in e-book.

Anyway, when I write a synopsis for myself, it's usually in present tense and it's more conversational than an outline. It's the way I would pitch a story in person. My written book proposals are much more formal and more detailed.

For Freak Experts -- The New Partner, I just roughly outline the basic plot and some of the details I want to make sure I cover. Then, I typically move on to flesh out key scenes in more detail, and then I start writing the novel. Well, I've done the key scene in some basic detail, and I have my rough synopsis. I'm ready to start chapter one.

I've put a link up to a pdf of the synopsis to show what I'm talking about. Please let me know if you see any huge holes in my plot, but keep in mind it is uneditied and written off the top of my head.




Friday, July 07, 2006

More Hot Cops

My short blog from Monday is augmented with an addition to my Hot Cops novel excerpt. I found myself inspired and with a little free time before we make our first trip up to the film shoot's locale. Thus, I am working on the day after the first night together. I thought it would involve another full out sex scene, but my guys wanted morerelationship stuff. I find it almost as exciting because of the sexual tension.. At least I hope so.

As I've said in the earlier post, this is a work in progress. It is written off the cuff and definitely un-betaed. I welcome comments on the character work and the thrust of the story. I'm starting from the beginning of the excerpt because it's been some time since I posted the first part. Enjoy.


Freak Experts Novel -- Excerpt

CJ didn’t know why he was on that road. He should have taken the last exit. There were a few nice long-term hotels near LAX. He had babysat a few witnesses in one that even had a kitchenette and wfi. That one was right off the freeway on ramp. Getting to work even in bad traffic would be under a half an hour. Instead, CJ was hugging the coastline in the darkness enjoying the sudden biting crispness in the air. CJ breathed in the salty, fragrant breeze as he wound his way through the narrow complicated neighborhood without really thinking about where he was going.

<> “This isn’t a convenient place to live at all,” CJ observed as he squeezed into a parking space on a street crowded with cars. Even the ones in driveways jutted out to almost illegal lengths. His destination didn’t even have a space for a second car. “What the hell am I doing? God, I’ve actually left Marilyn.”

CJ’s eye filled and almost spilled over at the thought of the anguish on her face as he closed the front door behind him. But her last words propelled him the remaining distance to the front door. He didn’t think about why he brought his suitcase.

Jordan looked tired when he came to the door. He may have even been asleep. CJ thought briefly about how tedious and draining it was biding time waiting to testify. He found it harder than working cases.


CJ blinked at Jordan’s sleepy blue eyes.

“It’s not just lust,” CJ blurted out. “For me, it isn’t.”

Jordan’s eyebrows raised. “But some of it is.”

“Some of it’s what?”

“Lust,” he replied. There was a lot in those big blue eyes then. There was befuddlement worry and something else that made CJ swallow hard.

“Yes,” he almost chuckled. How could he want to laugh now?

Jordan stepped back and waved him inside the living room. “Take a load off. I’ll get you a drink.”

“Nah, I’m driving.”

“No, you aren’t,” Jordan replied firmly. His voice was floating in from the kitchen.

The tension in CJ eased then. There was something really pathetic about a lone guy checking into a hotel in his own city. How many guys had he interviewed that were living in one room with a hot plate? He never wanted to be that guy. Jordan’s sofa was really comfortable. Actually sleeping was suddenly a possibility.

CJ drifted mindlessly as he watched cable news. He hadn’t realized that a little time had passed until a small plate was deposited in front of him on the coffee table. It was an appetizing square of lasagna. A glass of red wine was placed next to it.

“You should eat something,” Jordan said settling next to him with his own plate and glass.

“You Italian?” CJ asked after sampling a forkful of the food.

“On Mom’s side, but I didn’t make it,” he replied. “Italian deli down the road.”

“Thanks. I didn’t eat dinner.”

“Knew that. Looks like you packed instead,” he said. His eyes were sad as he looked at the bag. “She told you about lunch.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry...so sorry,” CJ muttered. There was suddenly a lump in his throat. He put his fork down.

“Sip the wine, and keep eating,” Jordan said gently. “You’ll feel better.”

Keeping his mouth full was easier than talking. CJ didn’t know if he could really talk about what happened that night.

“I’m not going to be a good friend to you, Ceej,” Jordan said quietly as he eased back on the sofa.

“Hmmm?” The declaration surprised him mid sip.

“A good friend would get you a pillow and a blanket and make you eggs in the morning then help you find a furnished apartment,” Jordan replied sipping his wine.

“You aren’t going to do that?”


CJ put down his empty plate then turned to look at Jordan. He leaned back on the sofa as well with glass in hand. “What are you going to do that’s so bad, Jord?”

Jordan looked him straight in the eyes. He wasn’t befuddled or worried any longer. “I’m taking you to bed. It’s a very bad idea. It’s the last complication you really need, but I have to.”

“You do?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied considering CJ almost lazily. “There’s something about you...makes me want to drive you crazy.”

CJ was fully confident that Jordan could accomplish that without ever touching him, but that wasn’t the matter at hand. “Is it more than lust for you?”


He looked CJ in the eyes again. Forget swallowing. Breathing was getting really difficult. “Then, why can’t you be more of a friend?”

CJ didn’t know why he was asking all those questions. He wanted Jordan to make him stop thinking. Maybe some part of him wanted to make sure he was acting with his eyes wide open. For his part, Jordan’s intense vibe hadn’t changed. He just seemed more agitated about any delay.

“I’m not perfect,” he said quietly. He deliberately placed his wine glass on the coffee table. He then took CJ’s glass and put it aside. “We aren't here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die. Now, I want you to come with me and get in my bed.”

CJ stared at him. “You’re quoting Moonstruck to me? Jord, that’s so gay.”

Jordan had him by the shoulders and his head was angling perfectly. “You knew it was Moonstruck. How gay is that?”

Jordan's lips sealed with CJ's. A talented tongue invaded his mouth. That clean, spicy scent filled his nostrils. It seemed to CJ that Jordan was possessing him, and he didn't mind. CJ moaned into the kiss wrapping his arms around Jordan and holding on.

The short trip to the bedroom was hurried and graceless. Jordan stepped on CJ's foot and got elbowed a few times along the way. The moment was about to slip into comedy when CJ's shirtless back hit the blankets. Where did that shirt go? Jordan's lush mouth actually had a slight smirk. His vibrant blue eyes were feral as he shucked his dress shirt. Meanwhile, CJ suddenly found himself on the verge of panic.

"No you don't," Jordan murmured. "Stop thinking...stop..."

He was kissing CJ again. Jordan was good at coaxing his mouth open and getting their tongues to play together. A warm hand pressed against the center of his chest holding CJ down while providing an almost electric connection between them. When Jordan pulled from the kiss, the hand remained.

"Unfasten your pants," Jordan ordered softly. "This is not something I'm going to do to you. There is a lot I will do to you at some point and probably repeatedly, but this time we do it together."

CJ unhooked his pants then slid down the zipper. He arched up and shimmied the pants down to mid-thigh while Jordan watched him intently.

"Jesus, Ceej...you're packing a big surprise."

CJ felt his cheeks get warm. "What about your pants?"

Jordan smiled. "I'll have to move my hand."

"I'm okay," CJ managed after a hard swallow. "I want this..."

Jordan considered that answer while caressing CJ's collarbones. After a long moment, he pushed his pants and under shorts down at the same time then hurriedly heeled his way out the of bunched fabric at his ankles. CJ could barely get a good look at Jordan because he was busily yanking his pants and shoes off. What he saw was impressive. He had fine hair spread across his chest and legs. CJ knew his partner was nicely built. That was apparent in even in clothes. But Jordan wasn't hard muscled like he spent all of his spare time in a gym. He was lean and sleek like an athlete. CJ found the body appealing though he was a little nervous about the big surprise Jordan was packing.

"'S'o'kay," Jordan murmured as he pressed their bodies together. "We're just gonna get to know each other."

With that husky promise, Jordan ground his hips against CJ's shocking him with the pleasure of mutual heat and hardness. It was the first time he felt an aroused cock pressed against his own. CJ didn't panic. He reached for more hungrily grasping the back of Jordan's curly head and taking his mouth in a desperate, hungry kiss. His moan went straight to CJ groin making him even harder.

"Damn," Jordan murmured as he broke the kiss. He smiled at CJ's breathy protest before he lowered his head to kiss and taste the side of his neck. "Kiss good...taste good..."

CJ moaned in pleasure and surprise when Jordan gently bit then sucked at the curve of his neck and shoulder. He didn't know that was an erogenous zone. He was really surprised at the jolt from Jordan's tonguing his collar bones.

"Keep moaning and sighing like that and this will be over before it really starts," Jordan said softly. His voice was full of laughter.

"Can't help it," CJ sighed. "What are you doing to me?"

"Introducing you to your body," Jordan murmured as he flicked his tongue against a hardened nipple. "Every inch of this beautiful skin needs attention."

CJ wanted to say something in response to those provocative words. He wanted to flirt in kind. He wanted to thank profusely. All he could do is arch into the feel of that hot mouth on his untried nipples and moan once more. Everywhere brushed by those lush lips or laved by that hot tongue or nipped by those white teeth was hypersensitive to the air. CJ didn't think he could bear to be touched anymore at the same time he thought he'd never want it to stop.

Jordan seemed to be impervious to the impact of the seduction, or CJ thought he was. Just below his navel, Jordan huffed in frustration.

"I suppose I can make love to you slowly when we're seventy-five or dead," he chuckled into CJ's belly. "You are driving me crazy."

With that, Jordan engulfed his erection to the base in that hot, moist mouth. CJ couldn't moan. He had no breath for any sound. One hand gently grasped Jordan's warm, broad shoulder. The other sank into his curls to cup the back of his head. He then met Jordan's gaze. There was almost none of the vibrant blue visible in his eyes. It made the ring of blue still visible even more intense. CJ had never felt that act gifted to him with such relish, it felt as if pleasuring him was the only thing in the world Jordan wanted to do. For a man who had his relationship ruled by rationality, that kind of physical intensity made short work of CJ's limited control. It seemed to take only seconds to come.

CJ petted the hair beneath his hand while he grasped the shoulder more firmly to move Jordan up his body, so he could kiss him. As their lips met and their tongues clashed, CJ thought about the many times he had tasted himself on Marilyn's mouth. Those kisses had been more about fair play than an uncontrollable need. During that open mouthed kiss, CJ rolled Jordan on his back and pushed his thighs apart with one leg. He gently tightened the hold on those soft curls to keep Jordan's head in place while grasping that big, hot erection with the other hand. There was no way he could make his mouth work that well on the first try, but he was very good at using his hand.

Jordan moaned into the kiss while his hands roamed CJ's back. He found it satisfying that those warm, expressive hands were nearly desperate against his skin. Everything about Jordan's sensuous responses fascinated him. It should have been odd stroking another man's cock Hell, it should have been terrifying making such a shift in his life. All CJ could think about was how good, the hot, hard velvet felt pulsing against his palm and the way Jordan was moaning and straining towards him. All he wanted was to see and hear was this enigmatic man beneath him come. And then Jordan was tearing away from his mouth and crying out as the heated flesh in his fist spasmed.

There was nothing feminine about Jordan's face at that moment, but CJ could only describe him as beautiful. His lush lips were parted invitingly. His hooded eyes were sleepy and satisfied and very warm and tender in expression. CJ wondered what Jordan saw in his eyes as he tasted the thick liquid on his fingers.

"Kiss good, taste good..." CJ murmured with a smile.

Jordan smirked at him then pulled him down for another long, intense kiss. This one wasn't as desperate or hungry, but CJ still felt his entire body react to it. He wondered if he would feel the same way about those kisses a year from that night. Chances were good, he decided. He didn't think he every felt such physical intensity with Marilyn.

Jordan broke the kiss and looked in CJ's eyes closely. He shook his head while sitting up. He handed CJ a big glass of water from a tray on the nightstand next to he bed.

"You're thinking again. Stop," he murmured wiping his torso with a small towel that was on the nightstand.

The towel made CJ wonder as he handed back half the glass of water. He supposed a man living alone could keep a come towel so boldly by the bed. It made sense. Jordan squinted at him while drinking the water.

"You never stop thinking, do you?" He asked softly. "I'll learn ya, that's for sure. Sleep is what you need right now. And maybe some cake, but I don't have any cake, so sleep it is."

Jordan turned off the light then pulled CJ into a loose embrace. After a few moments of configuring arms and legs, CJ settled. He still didn't feel strange in that relative stranger's bed. Fatigue hit him as soon as his body stilled. Jordan sighed into sleep within minutes. CJ soon followed.

* * *

Waking the next morning was disorienting. CJ had just worked out the rhythm of the routine at the townhouse. Then there were more changes. The sunlight was all wrong, and that confused him. He was on a terrible mattress. It had to be at least ten years old. His back was sure to be unhappy when he was finally vertical. And then there were the clingy, warm limbs wrapped around him. CJ wasn’t sure if Jordan was showing him affection or keeping him from bolting.

“No thinking before coffee,” Jordan murmured in his ear. His voice was deep and raspy and sounded like sex.

That voice went past CJ’s brain to his groin. Within seconds, he had an erection that matched the one pressing against his ass.

“Damn, you feel good,” Jordan murmured, holding him even more closely.

CJ gasped as his bedmate gently bit him at the curve of his shoulder then sucked at his skin. Then, he carefully untangled himself and rolled out of bed.

“Hey,” CJ exclaimed, turning over to face him.

Jordan was casually naked. His dark curls were mussed, and his fine morning beard made those blue eyes even more vibrant. He seemed to be startled by CJ’s tone, but a warm smile transformed his expression.

“You should see your face,” Jordan said softly. “Damn, you’re mad that I didn’t make a move. That’s pretty hot.”

Before CJ could find enough voice to respond, Jordan was kissing him. One hand cradled the back of his head while the other rested gently on his abdomen. The kiss was gentle and tender and clingy. Lust and anger shifted to something else that was just as strong but not as urgent.

“If I went after what I want from you, I’d be late for court,” Jordan murmured against his lips. “And you have a very long day today.”

CJ closed his eyes for a moment savoring Jordan’s touch.

“Yeah,” he agreed at last.

“I’ll make you some space in the bathroom,” Jordan said, reluctantly pulling away. “Then, I’ll make coffee.”

CJ eased back onto the mattress to stare at the ceiling. That was different. Usually being denied sex involved feeling guilty about wanting it. Well, that would be different with a man. Still, CJ sensed they would probably fight over that mattress. Things wouldn’t be perfect. Somehow, that insight made him feel better.

Jordan was in the kitchen when CJ made his way back to the livingroom to retrieve his suitcase. A national morning news shows airing softly on the TV. He could hear Jordan puttering about.

“There are towels in the bathroom closet,” He said from the kitchen.


There was space cleared on the glass shelf above the sink and in the medicine cabinet. One of the two towel racks was empty and there was a new plastic cup next to the toothbrush stand. CJ smiled at that, but somehow the kindness made his move more permanent. For some reason, that made him swallow hard on the lump forming in his throat. Jordan was right. He shouldn’t be torturing himself before coffee.

“So, you’re a news junkie,” CJ said to the curly hair that was visible just above the newspaper. The morning news show was still going strong in the livingroom.

The newspaper folded down. Jordan gazed at CJ intently.

“Yes, I am,” he replied. He re-folded the paper before sliding it to CJ. “Coffee’s ready. I’ll make breakfast when I get out of the shower.”

“I can cook more than steaks,” CJ said quietly. “What’ll you have?”

“Eggs any way you want,” he replied. “There’s some sausage and bacon, if you feel like it. I’ll just have toast or a bagel.”

CJ found some green onions and spinach in the produce drawers. And there was some cheese in another drawer. After pouring a little cream in his coffee, he put some in the egg mixture and started the omelet. The coffee was strong, but it was good. Cooking calmed his jangled nerves, making him feel less needy and vulnerable.

By the second cup of coffee, CJ was engrossed in the paper enjoying the eggs. He was even half aware of the traffic and weather reports, but somehow he hadn’t noticed Jordan’s return until he was being kissed on the nape of his neck. The smooth skin and those warm, soft lips made him forget about breakfast. But Jordan pulled away before he could make any overture. He looked good freshly showered and shaved. His dark gray pants and crisp white shirt gave him the image of a serious professional while the twinkle in his eyes promised a lot of naughty fun.

“Wow, omelets,” Jordan murmured appreciatively as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“I didn’t know how you liked your toast,” CJ replied returning his focus to the paper.

“I like it good and toasty,” Jordan murmured as he popped the bread inside the machine. “And dripping in butter.”

“You’re a cocktease,” CJ accused softly as he glared over the newspaper.

Jordan raised his brows at that. “Over toast?”

“I’ll think of you all day, and you know that,” he replied matter-of-factly. He put away the paper then attacked his eggs.

Jordan buttered his toast then sat across from CJ. He met his gaze levelly. There was understanding in those blue eyes, but the gaze held some frustration as well.

“You won’t be in court with your thoughts,” Jordan said quietly.

CJ was startled. It never occurred to him that he was driving Jordan crazy as well. He sure wasn’t trying to be sexy. And certainly not over breakfast. A smile tugged at his lips as he finished his meal.

“I suppose there are better things for us to fight about,” CJ admitted.

“Yeah...this is the easy part,” Jordan chuckled.

“So far. We’re in the shallow end now.”

“I’m in no hurry,” Jordan murmured. The smile was back on those lush lips and in his eyes.

They finished breakfast in a comfortable silence. Soon they were both in their suit coats with satchels in hand. Jordan took CJ’s notes on the assault case as he handed over his own.

“I think you’re on the right track, Ceej,” Jordan said as his eyes scanned the pages. “Keep after witnesses on that couple.”

“I will,” he replied. “I know I’m right on top of something.”

Jordan fished around a glass bowl on a table near the front door. It was full of change and paper clips and who knew what else from CJ’s point of view. Eventually, he came up with a set of keys.

“The one with Ace on it is for the deadbolt,” he said. “First one in makes dinner.”

“Fair enough,” CJ said.

“You’ll let me know if you get hung up,” Jordan said. “I don’t like you flying solo with a possible domestic case.”

CJ smiled at him. He wanted to kiss him for that concern. Hell, he wanted to kiss him because he looked cute in that tie.

“I know the drill. I’ll be careful.”

Jordan nodded. They finally headed for the door.

“What did you want to fight about?” He asked suddenly.

CJ closed the door and locked the deadbolt. “Your mattress. It sucks.”

“Oh. Never noticed.”

“You wouldn’t. You sleep like a cat,” CJ retorted. “I think your bones turn to rubber at night. How old is that thing anyway?”

Jordan went blank for a moment. “Beats me. I bought if off some guy seven or eight years ago.”

CJ blinked at him. Jordan smirked as he climbed into his car.

“You know what you want us to have. Get it and let me know what my share is,” he said. “I want you to very comfortable there.”

The last phrase was said in much the same raspy tone Jordan had when he awoke. CJ narrowed his eyes at him.

Jordan chuckled as he started the car. “Now, I’m being a cocktease. See you tonight.”

CJ tried to glare at him, but it melted into a smile.

“Later,” was all he could say.

Monday, July 03, 2006

So Many Men, So Little Time

Now that The Price of Surrender is just about at ARC stage, I have many male characters vying for my attention. It is very hard to choose, creatively. Each of them or each pair of them is attractive to write. There is my very demanding Vampire, Simon Molinar and Joe McKay, his captive/lover/nemisis from 'Demon Under Glass.' Being centuries old makes the Vampire arrogant. He is very tired of the heroic men from the Hanyanoore, my fantasy realm. Then there are Nick Jordan and CJ Hague, My gay cop duo. I have been giving them the short end for a long while and there is very good reason to finish that novel soon. There is a gunslinging desparado from the old west that may have to have his story told before the next spring. And surpsingly and out of the blue, a character inspired by and actor who was the main horseman for Rohan and a pirate of my own creation has formed to be the love interest for a lass who was a baby in my last book.

For the prize this week which will be a print version of The Price of Surrender and a promotional magnet. To win, tell me who the actor is that was that Horseman of Rohan and a pirate character of mine.

But which hero to choose for the next book? Unfortuantely or fortunately, depending on the view, I cannot let my muse decide. Market forces will choose the next novel I address because the books will be tied to films we're developing. It makes the most sense for my career as an author to take advantage of that opportunity.

So, how does a writer finish a book that may not be where her muse wants to be? Practice. I was lucky to have gone to journalism school and then grad school in creative writing, so I had the notion of writing only what I felt moved to write pretty well beaten out of me. To keep my fellowship in grad school, I had to do a chapter a week of my thesis novel and write a short story a week for my workshop classes. I had to learn how to use structure of plots and biographies of characters to keep my prose developing even when the muse wasn't speaking. More often than not, when I got far enough along in the development, the characters came to life and I could hear them speaking to each other. This took a lot of practice.

There is a script for both the gay cop novel and the gunslinger. However, the cop novel is the story of how they met, not what is in the script. That novel will take a lot more active development. It's also going to be a lot of fun, because it will have more sex than the film will. In the end, I believe I'll be writing both. work on one then take a break by working on the other. They are both really active projects, so that's where I have to focus. I'll be thingking about my vampire and Princess Kirsi's as yet unnamed lover all the while, to be sure.

For hints on some of what the heck I'm talking about, got to:

http://dragoncor.com and http://themiddlebox.com

Sorry this blog is so short. I wrote one for sybpress.com about poetry and potato salad. You can read that at: http://sybpress.blogspot.com/ and I'm in pre-prodcution on a film. Oddly enough, not any of the ones I've talked about tonight. But that's another long story involving yet a thrid blog that is not yet public. Stay tuned.