Shira Anthony's Blog - Posts Tagged "wip"

Last day of the Howloween Blog Hop! Comment on this post to win an ebook copy of your choice of one my Dreamspinner Press releases. You can check them all out here or by clicking on the "Books" link to the left of this post. Don't forget to leave your email address so I can contact you if you win! I'll be drawing a winner on October 30th.

******************

For the last day of the hop, I'm going to leave you with the first chapter of a WIP that is not part of my Blue Notes Series. In fact, it's an entirely different type of story. Sexy pirates and shifters. 18+, dubcon, with a bit of MMM, and definitely NSFW, ya'll, so don't say I didn't warn you!

Summary: Taren has never known anything but life as a slave, but when he's kidnapped by the captain of a pirate ship, his lifelong dream of going to sea is realized. The pirate captain Rider offers Taren his freedom in exchange for three years of his life and sexual servitude. Not a bad trade, Taren decides, given that the pleasures he finds in the captain's bed far surpass his greatest fantasies.

When Taren is lost at sea trying to save a fellow crewmember, he finds himself a captive of Captain Rider's old enemy: Eoin Dunaidh, the enigmatic captain of the Blue Water. But Eoin and his crew harbor a secret that will change Taren's life forever, forcing Taren to choose between his loyalty to Captain Rider and his crew, and a call far more primal.

**************

When two sailing ships were engaged in battle, the attacking ship would try to get upwind of the enemy vessel and spread its sails out full, literally stealing all the wind and leaving the enemy “dead in the water.” The attacking ship could then ram the enemy, cutting it in half and sinking it.

Chapter One

Taren huddled beneath a tattered blanket as an icy wind blew through the cracks of the building. The mortar between the bricks had crumbled and the fire was a good twenty feet away, providing him little warmth. He didn’t dare move closer—he had been beaten more times than he cared to remember by the other, more powerfully built men with whom he shared the tiny sleeping quarters.

He had lost track of time since he had come to this place. Had it been a year, perhaps two, since the old sail rigger had sold him to pay a gambling debt? The living quarters at the inn were far less comfortable than Saren’s hut on the edge of the docks, but the work wasn’t nearly as strenuous. Still, he longed for the freedom of climbing the ropes of the incoming vessels and standing atop their masts with the wind in his face.

More than anything else, Taren of Laxley dreamed of sailing aboard one of the great ships. He closed his eyes and imagined the spray against his face, the rocking of the vessel beneath his bare feet. He imagined crouching on the masthead, looking out through the spyglass, trying to spot approaching ships. He imagined hoisting the sails and watching them flutter in the wind and the feel of the ship as she caught the wind.

He had to imagine all these things; he had never been to sea.

“You, boy,” a sturdy woman snapped from the doorway. “What’s your name?”

“Taren, ma’am.” He got to his feet and repressed a shiver. It would do him no good to irritate Madame Marcus at such an ungodly hour—she would see his weakness only as a complaint, and he didn’t want another whipping.

“Cook’s needing you in the dining room. Seems a new ship’s put into port. He wants an extra pair of hands.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Taren said, dropping the threadbare blanket by the wall.

Dining room duty was better than some chores. Cook might even let him scrape the dregs from the pots as they cleaned up later. Taren’s empty belly growled at the prospect and he followed the woman across the open courtyard, past an angry rooster who pecked at him when he strayed too close, and into the warmth of the kitchens.

“Cook, sir,” he said to the large man standing at the ovens, face dirtied with soot from the fires. “What do you need?”

“Grab the soup from off the counter, boy, and ask the gentlemen if they would like more.”

Taren nodded and pulled a potholder from beside the smallest of the ovens. The padding was, as with everything else, worn thin, and he felt the heat from the iron handle as he reached in to lift the pot off its hook. He ignored the pain as the metal burned his palms and scurried out into the dining room, retrieving a large ladle hanging near the doorway.

********

The light in the dining hall was far more subdued than in the kitchen, the gas fixtures on the walls burning a warm yellow and making the faded red fabric walls appear tawdrier even than in the daylight. Long wooden tables ran the length of the room, several of which were filled with men, laughing and shouting, some singing off-key, most with large pints of ale in their hands.

Taren’s gaze met Serita’s. She was one of the other servants and old enough to be his mother, but her inclinations were hardly of the maternal kind. Still, she had always been kind to him—as kind as could be expected in a place such as this. She nodded and got back to filling tankards, cackling when the men handled her ample bottom and leaning over as she poured their drinks so they could easily see her full breasts. Later, he guessed, she would offer her services in their rooms as many of his fellow servants did for the paltry coins they might receive in return. The master never complained about such activities, but Taren knew he expected half of what Serita and the others earned with their bodies. Taren had never been tempted to follow a guest to his or her bedroom, although he had been presented with the opportunity on many an occasion.

He felt a rough hand on his forearm, and nearly lost his grip on the pot. “You’re a pretty one,” the owner of the hand said in a low voice. “Ain’t he, Captain?”

“Please,” Taren said in a trembling voice. “I must serve the soup.” Another hand grabbed his buttocks and squeezed. He couldn’t pull away, or he’d spill the hot soup on himself and possibly the man seated to the left of his antagonist.

Pirates, thought Taren, judging by their looks and their rough manner.

The man seated at the head of the table—the “captain”—pursed his lips in appreciation. As his gaze raked over the open collar of Taren’s shirt and the tight fit of his too-small-britches, Taren felt hotter than he had under the blanket only minutes before.

In the past year, Taren had begun to grow from a boy to the beginnings of a fine man. He now stood taller than the women, and although most of the men were larger than he, Taren guessed it was only a matter of time before he would reach and perhaps surpass their stature. This transformation had come as an enormous relief. He had no idea how old he was—sixteen or seventeen, perhaps?—nor did he know his parents. For so long, he had been the smallest of all the boys at the inn, and he had been given no reason to expect that it would ever be otherwise. Until, that is, his body had begun to assert itself.

“Come here, boy!” the captain shouted over the din.

Taren did as he was told, trying to ignore the lecherous gaze of several of the men seated nearby. “What can I get for you, sir?” he asked, as he’d been taught.

The captain, middle-aged with a coarse beard peppered with gray, was a broad-chested, bear of a man. Powerful and attractive, his weathered skin spoke of the sun and the wind, and his eyes were a piercing blue. And yet the weight of that gaze upon him made Taren feel slightly dizzy. It was a frightening thing, and the desire he saw in the older man’s eyes was raw.

The master won’t abide a servant taken without consent, Taren reminded himself as he began to ladle the fragrant soup into the captain’s bowl. He would endure the wanton looks and the fondling in silence, as he had done in the past. Then he would retreat to his duties in the kitchen, safe once more behind the wall that separated servant and guest.

“What’s your name, boy?” The captain’s voice was a deep rumble that seemed to work its way through Taren’s ears and into his body.

“Taren of Laxley, sir,” he answered, his trembling hand the only outward sign of his fear.

“Moran’s right. You are a pretty one.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The man’s hand rubbed Taren’s ass before he realized what was happening. He couldn’t move away, or he’d spill the soup, nor could he put the pot down on the table and risk Cook’s wrath. He felt his shirt pulled from the waist of his pants before he could protest, and the same hand that found his ass now found his hardening cock beneath the fabric.

“Now there’s a tempting treat,” the captain rumbled appreciatively.

Taren’s legs shook with the contact. The captain’s hand was practiced, the touch of the rough palm sensual. Taren tried to repress the moan that issued from his lips, but with little success.

“You like that, don’t you, Taren of Laxley?” The pirate removed his hand and Taren’s disappointment was obvious. “Don’t worry,” the captain added, “I just wanted to make this a bit easier for you.” He took the pot from Taren’s hands and set it on the table, then pulled Taren closer to him by his shirt.

Taren looked around the room. No one seemed to notice how he now stood in front of the pirate with his back against the table, or the stain on his cheeks he was sure was as bright red as the feathers of the rooster in the courtyard. He swallowed hard but he did not move away, the realization that he wanted the other man’s touch a shock.

“I won’t hurt you,” the captain said, his voice low, his expression unfathomable.

“I know,” Taren whispered. He shuddered in anticipation as the captain reached around him and slid it under his pants and over his buttocks. This time, however, the hand was slippery. Taren caught the faint whiff of butter from the table and saw the smile on the pirate’s face.

“Better like that, isn’t it?”

Taren nodded, too overcome to speak.

The pirate’s other hand found the soft flesh of his sac and rolled it around. Taren shivered as a large finger probed to find the sensitive ring of muscle between his ass cheeks. He nearly fell forward, but the other man’s muscular thighs held him upright.

He had never known such pleasure. The captain’s scent was powerful, adding to the intensity of the sensations that ran through Taren’s body like fire. The man’s eyes held him captive as much as his hand. Taren fought the urge to reach out and touch the pirate’s rough jaw, to feel it beneath his fingertips.

The man’s finger breached his opening, while he took Taren’s erection in his other hand, pulling and stroking until Taren had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. Taren no longer saw the room or the other men as the captain’s hand traveled up over his tip and probed the slit.

“Ahhh…,” Taren groaned. He didn’t care if anyone else heard. He couldn’t hold back anymore. And when the finger in his ass pressed completely inside, he came hard, his body shuddering with his release, his head reeling from the intensity of it.

“Thank you, sir,” he managed to croak as he came back to his senses.

The captain chuckled and licked his hand as if it were covered in honey. “No need to thank me, boy,” he said. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Taren was thankful that his long shirt covered the front of his trousers and the wet spot there. He escaped from between the pirate and the table, and picked up the soup. A heated flush still on his cheeks, his breath came in stuttered gasps as he stood at the entrance to the kitchen, trying to calm his racing heart.

Oh, God! Had Serita witnessed the entire sordid act? And what of himself? Had he enjoyed it?

No. Anyone would respond to such a touch. The thought was hardly comforting. And yet the warmth that he felt, having been satisfied by a hand other than his own, still lingered. A man’s hand, no less!

He set the soup back down on the fire to keep it warm and glanced over to Cook, who was happily tasting an aromatic stew in large spoonfuls, oblivious to Taren’s return.

“I’ve finished, sir.” Taren set about to doing the dishes while he awaited further instruction. Perhaps he might be able to explain the embarrassing stain as water from the sink. As it happened, however, Serita returned a short while later with a stack of bowls for washing, then left with the stew on her arm. She didn’t say a word, nor did she attempt to catch his eye.

********

More than an hour later, the dishes dried and replaced on the shelves, Cook gave Taren leave to return to the sleeping area. Taren had avoided any further contact with the pirates, and Serita vanished after the tables were cleared, mostly likely to spend what remained of the night with a guest.

The faint color of dawn lit the horizon as Taren stepped into the courtyard. The rooster who had scolded him before called loudly from atop a stone wall. Taren yawned deeply and strode with purpose across the dirt, taking care to steer clear of the other birds that were already pecking the ground in anticipation of breakfast.

He was nearly to the doorway of the building when he heard footsteps from behind him. He turned in surprise, confused as to why any other servants were up before the morning call. But it was not a servant's face he saw—it was one of the men from before.

“What can I get for —” he began to say, but his words were cut short by a hand, clamped tightly over his mouth from behind. His eyes grew wide in fear as the hand pressed a piece of cloth against his mouth and nose and he inhaled a pungent odor. The world seemed to dim, and he remember nothing more.

I think I'm finally recovered from my 12 days traveling to Yaoicon and GayRomLit! Not sure if it was jet-lag, or Hurricane Sandy, or just coming back down to earth after two amazing weeks, but I probably slept 10 hours a day last weekend! What a treat. November promises to be a very busy month for me, so I thought I'd update everyone who's asked and let you all know what I will be up to.

November 1st marks the start of NanoWriMo. Unfortunately, there's no way I'm going to be able to participate this year. For those of you who may not know, "The Melody Thief" was a late entry into NaNo last year, so I've definitely found NaNo to be great motivation in the past. This year, however, I've got way too much on my plate to give it another go.

First up on my list of to-dos: "Aria" is in the final editing process and set for a Christmas Eve release at Dreamspinner Press. I've approved the cover art (it looks amazing!) and am waiting on the final version to share with you all. "Aria" is the story of Sam Ryan (from Blue Notes #1) and Aiden Lind (Cary Redding's best friend from Blue Notes #2, "The Melody Thief."). Aiden is an opera singer. Sam is an attorney who lives in Philadelphia. The book focuses on themes including the difficulty of long-distance relationships, letting go of the past, and moving forward from grief. It's a sweet and sexy look at the opera world, with a bit of intrigue. It's set in Paris, London, and Philadelphia for the most part, and revisits characters from both the prior books, as well as introduces everyone to a few new characters who you will hear more about in the future.

Next up: I'm wrapping up book #4 in the series, "Prelude," co-authored with my good friend Venona Keyes. Tentative publication date for that book is April, 2013. "Prelude" is the story of superstar conductor David Somers, who appears in all three Blue Notes novels. David is wealthy, successsful, and yet insecure about his ability to do the one thing he truly loves: compose music. When he meets crossover violinist Alex Bishop, David's world is turned upside-down, and he is forced to confront his insecurities both in music and in love. I have to admit that David is one of my favorite characters. He's a mentor to most of the musicians who inhabit the Blue Notes books and, as you will see in "Aria," a good friend, as well.

Oh, and: I'm starting work on Blue Notes #5, working title, "Encore," which features two secondary characters from "Prelude." I'm also working on my pirate/shifter novel, "Stealing the Wind," which I hope to finish this spring.

Lastly: I'm both a participant and judge in Elisa Rolle's Rainbow Book Awards this year, reading wonderful stories and following the amazing cover art contest. Oh, and if you haven't seen, "The Dream of a Thousand Nights" cover is still in the running for Best Cover! Anne Cain rocks!

Wow! Just saying all that makes me tired. December will be a bit less hectic, I think (at least I hope it will be!). In the meantime, stay tuned for more information about the upcoming "Aria" release and some contests to go along with it, as well as guest posts from some wonderful writers including Hayley B. James, Michael Rupured and Michael Halfhill.

Happy November ya'll! -Shira

I've been so busy catching up on projects that I haven't had a minute to post the gorgeous new cover of "Aria" for you all! The cover is by Catt Ford, who did the fabulous cover for "The Melody Thief," as well. The background is the stunning interior of La Scala in Milan, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe. On the right is Aiden Lind, the opera singer, dressed as Don Juan in Mozart's "Don Giovanni." Some of you may remember Aiden as cellist Cary Redding's best friend in "The Melody Thief." On the left is attorney Sam Ryan, the Philadelphia attorney who Jason meets at the end of Blue Notes #1.

As you may know, the Blue Notes Series can be read in any order. Each is a stand-alone story from the same classical music universe, and secondary characters in one story become the main characters in other stories. And, by the way, "Prelude" (Blue Notes #4) is with my wonderful beta readers and is set for tentative publication in April of 2013. It features conductor David Somers and violinist Alex Bishop, whom many of you may remember from the other Blue Notes Series books. David, especially, has been an active part of all three books, serving as a mentor for some of the musicians. "Prelude" is co-authored with my good friend, Venona Keyes.

Release date for "Aria" is Christmas eve, 12/24/12! So to start off the countdown to the release date, I'm running a giveaway on Goodreads for an autographed paperback copy of "Aria." Click here to enter (you must sign up for Goodreads to participate, but I highly recommend joining - it's free, and Goodreads is a wonderful social networking site for readers and writers). Contest ends midnight, December 20th. More giveaways to come as the release date approaches, so be sure to check back!

Philadelphia attorney Sam Ryan never moved on after his partner died, though he tried. Instead of dating, he keeps himself busy with work—but when he unexpectedly runs into ex-lover Aiden while on a rare vacation in Paris, he’s inspired to give their love a second chance. First, though, he’ll have to get Aiden to forgive him. Because when Sam was still grieving five years ago, he broke Aiden’s heart.

When rekindled lust blossoms into a true romance, it seems like the start of something wonderful. But Aiden’s career has him on the road much of the time, and the physical distance between him and Sam starts translating into an emotional disconnect. If Aiden and Sam can’t learn to communicate, their separation may prove more than their love can bear.

Welcome to the Next Big Thing Blog Hop! What a wonderful way to learn about what writers are up to. Please be sure to check out my fellow Next Big Thing bloggers: Rhys Ford, Anne Barwell, E.M. Lynley, Elizabeth Noble, Thea Nishimori, Michael Rupured, Lou Sylvre, Rowena Sudbury, Ana Bosch, Grace Duncan, and Tinnean.

As always, I have multiple WIPs (works in progress) I'm juggling. I thought I'd tell you all about one of my favorite projects, and a bit of a change of genre for me. Stealing the Wind is a gay romance, but instead of my usual contemporary, it's a fantasy/paranormal novel, the first of at least two in a series of stories about pirate shifters. So, here goes with the Q&A:


























What else about your book might interest the reader?

Stealing the Wind is a bit sexier (smuttier?) than my other books. It starts out with a menage, although the HEA/main pairing is strictly a couple. Taren is kidnapped from the tavern where he works as an indentured servant (a slave, really) and taken aboard a pirate ship (these pirates are human). The captain gives him his freedom in return for three years of "servitude" that includes sharing the bed of the captain and first mate. Taren is fascinated and attracted to both men, and some very hot sex ensues! Taren grows to love both Rider and Bastian, not only as lovers, but as men. But when Taren meets Eoin several years later, it's clear that there is something very powerful between them. I won't tell you any more, since that would spoil it, but suffice it to say Taren and Eoin's relationship is written in the stars.

Want to read an excerpt from Stealing the Wind? Click here!

I'm putting the finishing touches on the first draft of "Stealing the Wind" and getting ready to send it on to my wonderful beta readers. I'm already working on the sequel. There's just something about mermen I find particularly appealing (sexy as hell!). That, and Taren and Eoin's story isn't easily told in just one book.

The mermen in "Stealing the Wind" are shape shifters. They exist in two forms: human and merfolk. They can survive indefinitely on land or in the water, but they cannot survive away from water for long periods of time. If merfolk can live indefinitely under the water, then it stands to reason that they can also mate in their merfolk forms. Which led me to the question (because I love sexy stories): how would merman have sex? To answer that question, I had to ask myself a few others.

Question #1: What do mermen look like and how are their bodies (and parts of their bodies) put together? I loved this question, because the answer was that I could do whatever I liked. It's my imagination, right? Of course, I wanted to base my mermen on merfolk lore, and I needed them to have certain "human"...er...attributes. So I started by looking at marine animals, and especially at marine mammals. Whales are a bit too big, so I naturally chose dolphin as my "template" for the beast half of my mermen.

In "Stealing the Wind," Taren of Laxley has known nothing but slavery all his life. He doesn't remember his parents--all he knows is that he was sold as a baby. Boy is he in for a surprise when he learns that when his owners called him "special," they weren't talking about his brain! Taren discovers his dual nature after he's taken prisoner aboard the merfolk ship, Phantom, and her captain (Eoin Dunaidh) shows him what his body has hidden. Suddenly, he is half-man, half-beast, with a powerful tail, a dorsal fin between his shoulders, webbed fingers, and has fins with sharp tines on his hands and wrists. Then he realizes that his plumbing appears to be internal.

Dolphin sex organs are internal (makes sense - don't want them getting all shriveled in the water). They have "folds" - two each. The male penis is hidden inside, so the fold acts as a sheath (similar to dogs). Which led me to question #2.

Question #2: How do mermen have sex? I had no doubt that I wanted the mermen in the story to have sex in their merfolk form, so I needed to figure out what kind of sex organs they have when they transform. "Thank the goddess," as Eoin would say, for the internet. Did you know there are tons of dolphin sex vids? No joke. Apparently dolphin are very sexual (not monogamous) and tend to "perform" at aquariums (to the delight of children and the mortification of their parents!).

I watched several videos to get a sense of how dolphin sex works. They're very playful, nipping and rubbing against each other. And yes, dolphins get erections, exposing the hidden penis for sex. Only problem I saw: dolphin penises are pretty small. Smaller than human penises. Enter my imagination. How about dolphin anatomy, but a human sized penis? No need for foreskins, either, in this form. And what if certain other orifices are a bit more sensitive even, than in humans? (I think I had much too much fun figuring this all out!)

One other logistical question I had to deal with: how do merfolk communicate under the water? The answer? Telepathy or thought-reading. As you'll see, they do make some sounds, but their speech becomes thought when they are in their merfolk form.

Want to see how all this works out on paper? Read down for an excerpt from the mermen sex scene about halfway through the book (not the entire scene, but enough that you'll get the general idea). "Stealing the Wind" is set for tentative publication this summer. I'll be posting sneak peeks at the story from time to time, so stay tuned for more! I welcome your comments and ideas, of course! How did I do? -Shira

PS: Love the amazing art? That's by http://chrisgiz12.deviantart.com/ from DeviantArt!

****************

Summary: Taren has never known anything but life as a slave, but when he’s kidnapped by the captain of a pirate ship, his lifelong dream of going to sea is realized. The pirate captain offers Taren his freedom in exchange for three years of his life and sexual servitude. Not a bad trade, Taren decides, given that the pleasures he finds in the captain’s bed far surpass his greatest fantasies.

**********

Want to read the excerpt? Click here: http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/3...

To celebrate the release of my most recent book, Lighting the Way Home , co-authored with EM Lynley, and the upcoming (May 6th) release of the next installment in the Blue Notes Series, Prelude , I'm running the first of several contests here on my blog! Comment on this post and you'll be entered to win a copy of your choice of ebook from my back catalog. You can see all my Dreamspinner Press books here.

The Blue Notes Series is all about music and love, and many of the stories take place in romantic locations such as Paris, London, and Milan. And Chicago. Yes, Chicago! A very romantic city, in my opinion. The gorgeous new cover of Prelude showcases the windy city viewed from Lake Michigan. And I'll be in Chicago from April 18th through the 21st for a Dreamspinner Press author's workshop/retreat. Can't wait! Venona, my Prelude co-author, has promised me a special tour of the places hightlighted in Prelude!

The story itself is about Chicago native Alex Bishop, who grew up on the rough and cold Chicago streets, bounced from foster home to foster home, and who survived a brutal knife attack that nearly killed him. Instead of dwelling on what's wrong with his life, Alex looks forward and through his music, is able to pull himself out of poverty and into an international career as a crossover violinist.

Alex's life is a world away from David Somers's. David, the music director of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, lived a life of privilege as the heir to the Somers Investments fortune. But underneath his poised exterior, David is still haunted by the loss of his parents when he was a young child, and the iron fist and fiery temper of his grandfather, who raised him. And in spite of his success as a conductor, David still longs to compose music. For David, hearing music is almost like breathing. He hears music in everything he does and in everyone he meets. And when he meets Alex, the music David hears is extraordinary.

Prelude is a prequel of sorts to the first three Blue Notes Series books, although it can be read as a standalone novel. David, and Alex to a lesser extent, appears in all three of the first books as a friend and mentor to musicians Cary Redding and Aiden Lind, and is a good friend of Antonio Bianchi and Jason Greene. But the David readers have come to know in those books is not the man you will meet in Prelude. In Prelude, David is uncomfortable in his own skin and unsure of himself. What changes? You'll have to read the story to find out!

Prelude is co-authored with my good friend Venona Keyes and will be available for preorder at Dreamspinner Press in a few days! In the meantime, I'll leave you with a never before seen excerpt from the novel to whet your appetite. Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy it. And don't forget to comment to enter the giveaway! -Shira

***************

Summary: World-renowned conductor David Somers never wanted the investment firm he inherited from his domineering grandfather. He only wanted to be a composer. But no matter how he struggles, David can’t translate the music in his head into notes on paper.

When a guest violinist at the Chicago Symphony falls ill, David meets Alex Bishop, a last-minute substitute. Alex’s fame and outrageous tattoos fail to move David. Then Alex puts bow to string, and David hears the brilliance of Alex’s soul.

David has sworn off relationships, believing he will eventually drive away those he loves, or that he’ll lose them as he lost his wife and parents. But Alex is outgoing, relaxed, and congenial—everything David is not—and soon makes dents in the armor around David’s heart. David begins to dream of Alex, wonderful dreams full of music. Becoming a composer suddenly feels attainable.

David’s fragile ego, worn away by years of his grandfather’s disdain, makes losing control difficult. When David’s structured world comes crashing down, his fledgling relationship with Alex is the first casualty. Still, David hears Alex’s music, haunting and beautiful. David wants to love Alex, but first he must find the strength to acknowledge himself.

******************

Excerpt from Chapter Three

Setup: This is the day after David meets Alex, who filled in at the Chicago Symphony for an ailing violinist. David was impressed with Alex's playing, but not as impressed by his tattoos and reputation as a crossover artist. Still, David can't seem to get Alex out of his mind...

 

BACK IN his apartment in the early hours of the next morning, David lay in bed, gazing out the window of his penthouse. The late-autumn sky was dark and lit with stars. As the first hint of sunrise added a touch of pink on the horizon, he finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He awoke some time later with a start, covered in sweat, the ache of arousal making his groin pulse. He had a dim recollection of a dream—an image of Alex Bishop. The sound of unfamiliar music faded as his eyes adjusted to the bright morning light. The music was melodic and urgent in its complexity—a counterpoint of bright inquisitiveness woven with a heady romantic tone. Something new and appealing and unlike anything David had ever imagined before.

He took a few deep breaths before glancing at the clock. It was late—after ten o’clock—and he’d been asleep only three hours, but he knew he would not sleep again. Instead, he got out of bed and headed for the shower, unwilling to dignify his physical need with the attention it craved. Once finished with his morning ablutions, he tossed a silk bathrobe over his shoulders and made his way to the kitchen. He would need strong coffee to get through the day’s rehearsal schedule without yawning.

He poured hot water over the grounds at the bottom of the french press and set it to steep before retrieving the newspaper from the front door. After tossing the paper onto the counter, he turned to the fine arts section to see if there was a review of the prior evening’s concert.

What was that music? He tried to recall the dream as he watched the coffee swirl about, but could remember only bits and pieces of it—random phrases, nothing more.

He wasn’t disturbed to imagine music when he thought of Alex Bishop. In David’s experience, nearly everything in his life had a certain melody to it, whether it was the memory of an evening spent with Helena at the estate or the view of Lake Michigan from his penthouse apartment. Conflict with his grandfather was as much characterized by music as it was by shouting and pain. Music was part of his life, a sense to be experienced just as the more pedestrian senses of sight and smell. And yet this music was different, somehow. He just couldn’t figure out why.

He pushed the plunger to the bottom of the press and poured his coffee. Black was the only way he would drink it today. He needed the clarity of the jolt of caffeine. As he brought the steaming hot liquid to his lips, the phone rang.

"Good morning."

“Doris—” David sighed and looked longingly at his soon-to-be-cold cup of coffee. “—how good to hear your voice.”

She laughed. "No doubt you'd been expecting my call. I suppose you also won't be surprised to hear that I've had my people trying to book Alex Bishop for a return engagement."

"Is that so?" He'd figured as much. He cradled the phone against his ear and walked over to the refrigerator to scare up something for breakfast.

"I've gotten nowhere." Her sigh was audible through the speaker. "You can't imagine how disappointed I am."

“Of course,” he told her. “But you know how difficult it can be to—”

"Robert and I have left half a dozen messages with Bishop's booking agent and still no return call."

David was tempted to point out that it had been less than twelve hours since Alex Bishop played the last note of the Sibelius the night before, but he held his tongue. "It sounds as though you've done your best, Doris. Perhaps you should wait until tomorrow to try again."

"Seriously, David. You know how difficult it is to book some of these artists. Surely you can appreciate that each day that goes by means we're less likely to get the booking. Why, only last year we lost the opportunity to bring Raimondo Pelli back again."

David managed a quick sip of coffee as she rambled on.

"…and the symphony association just about had a fit."

"Hmm."

"You're not listening, are you? Did you even hear what I said?"

“Yes, Doris, I’m still listening.” He swirled the half-empty cup around, barely listening. “Of course, I understand. But there are other violinists who—”

"We can't risk losing Alex Bishop the way we lost signore Pelli."

David repressed a sigh and put his cup of coffee down. On the telephone, Doris was far more exasperating than in person, and lack of sleep was doing nothing to improve his mood.

"David, I need your help with this," she said, sounding nearly as irritated as he felt. "Will you call him? The agent?"

“Doris, you know I don’t usually contact agents directly.” His stomach lurched. He needed to get her off the phone before the lack of food and caffeine took its toll.

"Just this once. I promise I won't ask you to do this again. But Alex Bishop is—"

This time, it was he who interrupted her. “Doris,” he said, “I’ll call the agent, if that will satisfy you. But just this once.”

Five minutes later, after writing down Kenneth Sykes’s name and phone number, he hung up with a sigh. Damned rock star musicians. Anyone with a modicum of intelligence would jump at a chance to play with the Chicago Symphony—even change his schedule, if need be. Bishop, apparently, was not just anyone.

David drank the remainder of his coffee and finished the croissant, fruit, and cheese on his plate with resignation. The croissant, which he'd microwaved to warm, was now slightly hard from sitting, the coffee was cold, and the cheese a bit dry. Begrudgingly, he picked up the phone once more and dialed.

“Good morning! Sykes Agency, Tiffany speaking.”

“Good morning, Tiffany. This is David Somers. I would like to speak to Kenneth Sykes.”

“Kenny’s not here,” said the girlish voice on the other end of the phone. “I don’t expect him in at all today. You see”—she half whispered this as if it were a secret for David’s ears alone—“there was this big party over at….”

David frowned as the woman droned on. After a full minute had passed, he took a deep breath and interrupted, “Excuse me, miss….”

The girl giggled. “Tiffany.”

“Tiffany, this is Maestro David Somers, Music Director of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I do go on sometimes, don’t I?”

David was tempted to tell her that yes, indeed she did go on, but instead said in his commanding professional voice, “I’m trying to reach Mr. Kenneth Sykes. Is this his office?”

“Of course! I’m his assistant, Tiffany” was her gleeful response.

“Tiffany. It’s a pleasure to speak with you. Can you please have Mr. Sykes call me back later this morning?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to talk to him this morning, Mr. Somers.” Her voice was suddenly serious. David imagined Sykes was probably sleeping off the big party, and his upper lip curled in disgust. “Can I have him return your call later? Maybe tomorrow?”

David realized he was gripping the phone so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He took a deep, cleansing breath and in his most patient voice said, “Please tell him that I’d like to speak with him about Alex Bishop.”

“Of course, sir.” She took his number.

“Thank you, Tiffany.”

“You’re welcome. Stay warm, Mr. Somers.”

Did everyone think Chicago in winter was the Arctic? “I will,” he replied, at a loss to come up with any other response.

“Ciao!”

“Good-bye, Tiffany.”

David set the phone down with a sigh. There was a reason he had hired a booking agent. No matter. He’d done what he’d promised. And if Alex Bishop never played with the CSO again, that’d be just fine with him.

 

Exactly two weeks until the release of Prelude, book four in the Blue Notes Series of classical music themed gay romances from Dreamspinner Press. Haven't read the others? You don't have to read them in order to enjoy Prelude. Each Blue Notes book is completely standalone. Like the summary? You can dive into the series with any book.

Each Blue Notes book has lots of musical references. Curious about the music in the books? Click on the "Books" tab on my website, pick a book, click on it and scroll down to "Extras." For each book, you'll find a complete playlist with links to the music.

And now I've added one more feature with the newest Blue Notes book: a video tour of some of the places in the book. Might mean I have to fly to Europe to film more (damn good excuse, don't you think?). But I'm starting with a tour of Chicago and the places that are featured in Prelude.

So over the next four weeks, I'll be posting videos I filmed while I was in Chicago with my lovely co-author, Venona Keyes. Here's the little intro Venona and I filmed. Hope you enjoy it! -Shira

Prelude Tour Welcome

Summary: World-renowned conductor David Somers never wanted the investment firm he inherited from his domineering grandfather. He only wanted to be a composer. But no matter how he struggles, David can’t translate the music in his head into notes on paper.

When a guest violinist at the Chicago Symphony falls ill, David meets Alex Bishop, a last-minute substitute. Alex’s fame and outrageous tattoos fail to move David. Then Alex puts bow to string, and David hears the brilliance of Alex’s soul.

David has sworn off relationships, believing he will eventually drive away those he loves, or that he'll lose them as he lost his wife and parents. But Alex is outgoing, relaxed, and congenial—everything David is not—and soon makes dents in the armor around David's heart. David begins to dream of Alex, wonderful dreams full of music. Becoming a composer suddenly feels attainable.

David’s fragile ego, worn away by years of his grandfather’s disdain, makes losing control difficult. When David’s structured world comes crashing down, his fledgling relationship with Alex is the first casualty. Still, David hears Alex’s music, haunting and beautiful. David wants to love Alex, but first he must find the strength to acknowledge himself.

You can pre-order "Prelude" here: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3798&cPath=55_484

 

Dissonance

Reblogged from Book Suburbia.

Thanks, Sophie, for hosting the Dissonance cover reveal! There’s nothing quite as fun as showing off a brand-spanking-new book cover. Even better when it does a perfect job of capturing the feeling of the story. Dissonance, the latest installment in the Blue Notes Series from Dreamspinner Press, may be one of the angstiest of all the Blue Notes books. It’s a story of betrayal, heartbreak, and rising above your past to find hope in the future.

British noble Cam Sherrington puts on a good show, pretending he isn’t still grieving the end of his relationship with opera singer Aiden Lind. Of course, Cam has nothing to complain about, since he singlehandedly destroyed that relationship by cheating on Aiden again and again. Nobody likes a cheater, especially the cheater himself. Cam doesn’t know why he cheats, but he knows he’s a worthless piece of garbage. And it’s not as though anyone disagrees with him, either, if his mother and uncle are any indication.

Then Aiden calls to let him know he’s marrying his partner, attorney Sam Ryan. On Cam’s thirtieth birthday. And that’s just the beginning…. Before Cam can figure out what hit him, the rest of his life is in a shambles. Then the dreams start. Dark, frightening dreams. But if they’re only dreams, why do they seem so real?

Trumpet player Galen Rusk plays for tips in the 42nd Street Station in Manhattan, and he’s noticed Cam. When Cam stops to listen to Galen’s music, Galen takes a chance and tries to talk to him. But Galen’s music remains the only connection between them until Cam ends up sleeping on a cold subway bench. Then it’s Galen’s turn to pay forward the shoulder someone gave him ten years before.

Dissonance deals with some dark themes, but the message of the story is an upbeat one about learning to love yourself and finding your inner strength. By the end of writing the story, Cam totally won me over. I hope he’ll win you over too!

You can pre-order Dissonance on the Dreamspinner Press website now. And while you’re at it, be sure to enter the pre-release contest I’m running. You could win a cool Blue Notes Series swag bag filled with paperback books of the first 5 novels in the series (or ebook copies if you live outside the US). Here’s the link to the Rafflecopter giveaway: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/Y2YwYmE5NDkzMTY4MjgyZWNiMzcwNjVhODk2ZTBjOjQ=/

I’ll leave you with the blurb and an excerpt from Dissonance. I hope you enjoy it! –Shira

******

Blurb: British lord Cameron Sherrington has hit rock bottom. The love of his life, opera sensation Aiden Lind, is marrying another man, and Cam knows it’s his own fault for pushing Aiden away. Then someone tries to set him up and take away his family business. Facing arrest by US authorities on charges of money laundering and with no money to return to London, Cam decides to run. But with no money and no place to stay, it’s not exactly the Hollywood thriller he’d imagined.

When Cam hears Galen Rusk play in a lonely subway station, he’s intrigued. But his assumptions about Galen are all wrong, and their unusual relationship isn’t exactly what Cam bargained for. Add to that the nightmares that dog him nightly, and Cam’s world is shaken to its core. Cam figures he had it coming to him, that it’s all penance due on a life lived without honesty. He just never figured he might not be able to survive it.

Buy Blue Notes Series books on Dreamspinner Press, Amazon,Barnes & Noble, and AllRomanceEbooks

******

EXCERPT:

Cam cursed his love for Aiden as he wobbled down the concrete steps to the 42nd Street subway station. Riley had looked at him as if he were mad when he’d told her he was headed home. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked with the same pouty expression she wore on the rare occasion when her father refused to buy her something.

“Nothing,” he said as he’d reached for the doorknob. “I’m done. That’s all.” “At least let me call my driver to take—”

He’d refused. Seriously, did she think he wasn’t capable of taking a fucking subway after a few drinks at a party? It wasn’t even midnight.

He rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand. The damn telephone conversation replayed in his mind and grated on his nerves like Muzak at a cheap restaurant. He’d tried not to sound eager. Tried to sound nonchalant. He’d gotten good at that over the years. And then the brutal words had come. They’d seared his heart and left him dizzy. “Listen, Cam…. I need to tell you something. I don’t want you to hear it from the press…. Sam asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

He needed to walk. He needed to clear his head. He needed to shout to the heavens and hit something.

Why in hell had he bothered to look at the phone? Easy: he’d prayed it was Aiden calling to tell him he wanted him back.

You’re a fucking loser, Cameron! Nobody wants you!

A memory stirred. Someone holding him. Ruffling his hair. Someone other than his father. Someone had wanted him. Cared for him.

Where the hell had that come from? He brushed it off and descended the steps to the Lexington Avenue train.

It was bad enough that Aiden thought he’d tried to sabotage his career. He did everything to make sure Aiden didn’t think he wasn’t interested anymore. He’d gone to the after-party following Aiden’s Met debut—of course he’d gone, his company had helped bankroll the production of Don Giovanni—and Aiden had been MIA. So he’d decided Aiden didn’t need to know he’d been there at all.

And then the phone call. Aiden hadn’t beaten around the proverbial bush. He’d said it. Honestly. Simply. Just the way Cam would have expected Aiden to say it. And suddenly Cam didn’t care if he fucked that hot little Broadway-bound arse. He no longer cared about the party or its hallowed attendees. He no longer cared about anything except the gaping, jagged hole the conversation had left in his heart. And now, fucking New York pigeons were setting up camp in the hole. Shitting in it.

He walked from the Lexington Avenue train toward to the S train platform. The achingly mournful sound of a trumpet echoed off the dirty tile walls. He hadn’t really noticed them before. The intricate mosaic artwork had probably taken weeks to complete. Decades before, it had probably been stunning, but now it was covered in a film of grayish-black soot and some of the tiles were missing.

How fitting. He looked around for the source of the music, noting the powerful smell of urine. Away from the turnstiles, a mound of blankets and a refuse-filled shopping cart occupied the far corner of the station. He guessed there was a human being under there, although he was hardly going to look. Beyond the automatic ticketing machines, he could just make out the form of a man holding a trumpet. The same man he’d seen playing at lunch. Maybe he lived in the subway. Cam had heard stories of actors and musicians unable to get work in New York living on the street.

"Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone….”

Cam walked across the empty space between the train platforms, his feet making soft tapping sounds against the concrete. He paused for a moment to watch the trumpet player standing with his back to the wall. He stared into whatever space musicians liked to stare into—that ethereal place they went when they were so focused on the music that the world around them disappeared. A dusty blond curl fell from the shaggy mop of hair onto the trumpeter’s face as he finished another phrase. “… and she’s always gone too long any time she goes away.”

Cam drew a long breath. It was perfect. The angst of it all. The music. The echo of his steps. The blast of cool air as he neared the train tunnels. Fucking perfect.

The musician noticed him standing there. The man’s eyes were a beautiful hazel, almost green. Why hadn’t he noticed before?

What do you care? The man’s an unemployed musician.

The guy looked at him and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly, as they had the last time Cam had seen him. Did he recognize Cam? God knew there were enough articles written about him. Esquire, Elle, Cigars Magazine, blah, blah, blah. Glamour’s “Most Eligible Bachelor” from 2008. As if!

The trumpet player finished the song, then stopped for a moment and rested the trumpet against his hip. His lips were swollen and pink from playing. For a split second, Cam imagined tasting them. Then he noticed the torn jeans and white T-shirt with a faded Señor Frog’s logo and the words “I got wasted in Cancun” written below it.

Oh, for God’s sake, Cameron! He’s a loser with a capital L!

Well, that made two of them, didn’t it? Even if the guy could play pretty damn well—very well, judging by the little Cam had heard—they were both in a stinking, empty subway station on a Friday night at midnight. Poor sod.

“Another request?” A smile danced on the man’s kissable lips.

Cam shrugged. “Whatever you want to play,” he said, not caring how pathetic he sounded.

The trumpeter put his instrument to his lips and began. “Blue moon, you saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart….”

 

I can't tell you how excited I am to finally be able to share Dissonance with you! Today, August 8, 2014, is release day for the newest addition to the Blue Notes Series from Dreamspinner Press. Like the other novels in the series, Dissonance is a standalone story, although it shares characters from some of the other Blue Notes books (including one of my all-time favorites, conductor David Somers). And, even better, it's 25% off as part of Dreamspinner's end of summer sale. You can pick up a paperback or ebook copy here: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5291

Today also is the first day of a month-long blog tour featuring a giveaway with cool prizes (I love finding cool stuff to give away!). Here are the details of the tour:

8/8 -Prism Book Alliance

8/11 - Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words

8/12 - Smoocher’s Voice

8/13 - Fallen Angel Reviews

8/14 - The Hat Party

8/15 - Amanda C. Stone

8/18 - Tara Lain

8/19 - The Novel Approach

8/20 - LeAnn’s Book Reviews

8/21 - Kimber Vale

8/22 - Full Moon Dreaming

8/25 - Love Bytes

8/26 - Book Reviews, Rants, and Raves

8/27 - Hearts on Fire

8/28 - Wicked Wolves and Dreaming Dragons

8/29 - Velvet Panic

9/1 - Decadent Delights

9/2 - Rainbow Gold Reviews

9/3 - My Fiction Nook

9/4 - Emotion in Motion

9/5 - MM Good Book Reviews, Book Suburbia

Here's the Rafflecopter giveaway information. Prizes include a really cool unisex NYC subway cuff, books, and gift certificates. So be sure to enter. Here's the Rafflecopter link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/cf0ba9495/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Stay tuned for excerpts, blog posts, and lots of other Dissonance chatter. Also, don't forget that Blue Notes , the original book in the series, is free on Amazon until the 11th. So pick it up if you haven't already. And if you have the 1st edition, you might want to replace your copy with this, the 2nd edition, which features a bit more of Jason's background, and a brand-spanking new edit!

Happy reading! -Shira

Wow! The last week has been a whirlwind, truly. Blue Notes was free on Amazon for 5 days, during which time it sat at #1 on the gay literature free books list. That totally blew me away. Then Dissonance was released to amazing reviews from Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words (Melanie named it one of her "Best of 2014"!), Rainbow Book Reviews, Smoocher's Voice, and Love Bytes. But there was something even better than all that. Something that made me just want to sing! You. You the readers contacted me.

I have never had so many personal messages, emails, and posts about my books before. I heard from long-time readers and brand new readers about how they--you--loved my books and my characters. Particularly moving for me were the comments from survivors of child abuse who, like me, saw a lot of themselves in the character of Cam in Dissonance (who is based on a compilation of true stories). Those messages of love and support mean the world to me. More than you know!

I would never share a personal email or message without permission, of course. But those messages reminded me that readers can do a great deal to support their favorite authors. So I'm writing this post not just for myself, but for all of the authors you enjoy. I'm writing to ask that if you feel inclined to do so, please share that love with the world! The meme says it all: the care and feeding of authors depends on readers.

Please considering reviewing on Amazon, Goodreads, AllRomanceEbooks, Barnes & Noble, and anywhere else you buy and discuss books. Reviews don't need to be long, they just need to be honest and hearfelt. A few sentences about what a book made you feel may be the inspiration for another reader to read a book you loved. Word of mouth makes all the difference to authors. It helps sell books, and more books sold means more books written. A win-win.

Thanks again, everyone, for your support! And thanks for considering reviewing and sharing the love! -Shira