WIP Wednesday to celebrate the upcoming release of Tall, Dark, and Deported!

It's almost release day for Tall, Dark, and Deported, and I admit I've been spending most of my time writing blog tour posts instead of working on a WIP. I'm going to share a favorite scene from the book for #WIP Wednesday instead.
I hope you'll join me at my tour stops for a few video readings, a killer recipe for homemade hot pretzels, and a tongue-in-cheek look at what an author does on release day, just to highlight a few. *g*

Tour stops:

March 25: MM Good Books: A primer in our favorite category romance tropes

March 29: Kimmers Erotic Book Banter: Why Crawford and Mateus's story makes good fiction but bad reality

March 30: Open Skye: Meet Mateus and Crawford

March 31: My fiction Nook: Video reading

April 1: Alpha Book Reviews: Top 10 things authors do on release day

April 3: Novel Approach: The Auntie Anne's copycat recipe you never knew your life was missing

April 4: Love Bytes: Video reading (featuring those delectable pretzels)

April 5: Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words: Interview

April 6: Boy Meets Boy: Video reading

April 6: Kimi-Chan Experience: LA Times Festival of Books and what's next

And now for the promised excerpt: Mateus and Crawford met only hours ago, but they're already married. It was a ploy to keep Mateus from being deported, but Crawford is finding it has some bonuses for him, too. Namely, making his ex-husband and co-worker Davis cattily jealous. 

Tall, Dark, and Deported, Release date: April 1

“I had no idea you were getting married,” Davis said when he finally tore his eyes away and looked at Crawford. His cheek twitched, just like it always did when he was annoyed, but that was the only giveaway to show he wasn’t as enthusiastically pleased as his tone suggested. Davis always had been excellent at reading situations and acting exactly as he should. “And that you were bringing your new husband along to Vancouver.”

“They were just married today,” Michelle said helpfully.

The twitch grew more pronounced. “Is that so?” he asked, giving Crawford a speculative look. “Well, then, I must agree with Michelle. We insist you take the penthouse suite. And you’ll join me for dinner tonight, won’t you? I was planning to dine here at the hotel with some of the management staff, but since this is a special occasion, I think that can wait. We can have the concierge secure a reservation somewhere appropriately festive.”

Crawford’s mouth fell open, but before he could let loose a scathing retort—leave it to Davis to make Crawford’s remarriage all about him, Jesus—Mateus spoke up.

“That is so kind of you, but I have plans for my husband tonight.” Mateus’s voice was like velvet, making it clear that those plans he so glibly referenced were definitely not for public consumption. He ran a proprietary hand up Crawford’s back and down his arm, twining their hands together.

Davis visibly flinched, his eyes widening. “Tomorrow, then. I insist. My treat, to celebrate. It really is amazing to see Crawford married again,” he said, his composure returning with his smirk. The look he gave Crawford was speculative, like he could see right through him. He’d always been a lot better at reading people than Crawford had. After all, he’d correctly sized Crawford up as a chump, hadn’t he?

“Ah, I don’t know if I’ll be done with him by then, but I don’t want to keep him from his work. I suppose I can share,” Mateus purred.

Davis colored a bit at the insinuation that he was nothing but a coworker. “I do wonder why you chose to get married right now,” Davis said, a gleam in his eye. “The timing is a bit curious. I mean, you hadn’t said anything about your husband-to-be in any of our conference calls, and then you get married the day you’re going to see me?” He turned to Mateus and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Surely you know who I am. I can’t imagine Crawford hasn’t told you about me.”

Crawford felt like he was in the middle of a tennis match or a particularly vicious argument on some Real Housewives spin-off. He knew he should intervene, but he couldn’t seem to make himself speak. It would be so easy to smile and shrug Davis off, claiming they were tired and needed to get up to their room. It would be totally plausible that newlyweds would want alone time, but it was also mortifying that the clerk and the entire lobby would assume he and Mateus were going upstairs to have sex.

“Oh, he has,” Mateus said, his smile still firmly in place. He squeezed Crawford’s hand. “Shall we go up, meu amor?"

Dreamspinner Press  Amazon   Barnes and Noble   Google Play

Dreamspinner Press  Amazon   Barnes and Noble   Google Play

WIP Wednesday: Something a little different

Today for #WIPWednesday I'm changing lanes a bit and sharing something from my first foray into lesbian romance. (No worries if that's not your genre--we'll be back to gay romance next week with more from my werewolves, Tate and Adrian!)

Not only is it a lesbian romance, it's a Regency historical, which is also something new for me. It's a novelette, so it was a low-stress way for me to dip my toe into both genres. I had a blast with it and it has been well received, so it likely won't be my last. *g*

This is also my first time self-publishing something, so I don't have my usual channels to get the word out about a new release. (If you have any tips, drop me a line!)

Heart's Thaw

Release date: Dec. 4, 2016

Calliope snickered, earning herself a dark look from Helena that only served to make her laugh harder. It really was quite amusing. On her end of things, at any rate.

“I told you not to bait him, but you did it anyway,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, hoping the restriction would help her gain her breath and stop chuckling.

Helena’s lips pursed but she didn't respond to Calliope’s taunt. It was something Calliope could get used to, and a fresh gale of laughter threatened.

 But Helena’s reflexes were still her own, afflicted as she was, and Calliope barely had time to duck before a riding boot went soaring over her head, smacking into the wall behind her with a loud thump.

“Do you want to rouse Baron Thane?” Calliope asked, lifting an eyebrow challengingly.

Helena’s teeth clicked together as she bit back a retort, her blue eyes cold as steel as she glared out from under a wispy fringe of long, blonde locks that had escaped their binding and framed her face. Smooth, soft cheeks that were usually rouged and powdered when Calliope saw them twitched with the effort of her restraint. Her lips had been bitten to a fetching cherry-red, pressed into a pout that looked more seductive than quelling.

Calliope straightened her back, unsuccessfully trying to school her features into a look of regret. How long had she fantasized about this? Having Helena beat down her door at all hours, hair in wild disarray and eyes sparkling with lust?

Of course, in the fantasies, things went a bit differently. Fantasy Helena was there because she truly desired Calliope, not because an angry incubus had bespelled her with a curse that she trusted no one other than Calliope to help her lift. In her fantasies, she and Helena shared long, intimate chats tangled up together in the bedclothes, enjoying the afterglow.

More importantly, in the fantasies, Helena wasn't half-mad with panic. She barely looked like herself, her hair mussed and falling from the meticulous braid that Calliope knew Helena's maid twisted it into nightly. Helena looked like a caricature of herself standing there in her plain night shift, her chest heaving and cheeks flushed from her frantic dash from her own quarters to Calliope’s.

She also looked a good five years younger. Calliope had never seen Helena without the careful coif and artfully applied paint that Helena usually wore like armor. Standing there freshly scrubbed and clad in plain cotton that didn't look any fancier than what Calliope herself was wearing, Helena could have been mistaken for one of the chamber maids.

Except for her sharp tongue. That was definitely the same. The story Helena had just woven in her usual soft, lilting tones—marred by a gratuitous use of profanity and several completely unnecessary affronts on Calliope’s intellect and general person that assured Calliope that Helena was indeed herself—seemed too far-fetched to be believable.

In fact, had Calliope not been with Helena when the two of them had come upon a comely young gentleman in the woods during their late afternoon ride, Calliope wouldn't have believed her.

But Calliope remembered well how eagerly the man bid for Helena's attention, and how shocked and angry he had been when he had been primly rebuked. He had the look of someone who'd had never had his advances rejected before, and given his ethereal beauty and fine linens, Calliope thought he probably hadn't.

Helena hadn't held her tongue then, either. By the time she'd finished dressing the gentleman down for having the gall to speak so frankly to someone of Helena's station, the man's face had practically been puce.

Calliope had thought it a trick of light when his features changed, but one look at Helena's terrified face had put paid to that. Somehow they'd had the luck to stumble across an incubus, and Her Ladyship, daughter and only child of the Duke of Keering, Helena Alexandra Gertrude Heart, had mortally offended him.

He'd flashed to Helena's side before Calliope could even pull the dagger she wore at her belt whenever they left the safety of the estate, but he didn't strike. He merely whispered something to her, something that had Helena's face draining of what little color it had left.

She and Calliope had fled, of course. And even with his preternatural grace, the incubus hadn't been able to catch them as they'd galloped away on their mounts, two of the stables' most reliable and fleet-footed steeds. Calliope had assumed they'd escaped him, but apparently she'd been wrong. Perhaps he hadn't given chase not because he knew he couldn't catch them, but because he'd already exacted his revenge. Not that Calliope could get Helena to tell her exactly what the spell was. She'd said only that she it was base and abominable and that she needed Calliope to help her break it before the effects became permanent.

You can find out what happens by picking up Heart's Thaw for .99 cents on Amazon!

A peek at Andrew Q. Gordon's The Eye and the Arm and a giveaway!

Andrew Q. Gordon is here today to share his latest book, The Eye and the Arm, which DSP Publications released yesterday. It's book two in the Champion of the Gods series, and it looks amazing! Be sure to watch the YouTube trailer, and scroll to the end of the post to enter Andrew's giveaway contest!

ABOUT THE BOOK

Title: The Eye And The Arm Series: Champion of the Gods Book 2

BLURB: 

After defeating Meglar at Belsport, Farrell returns to Haven to recover from his injuries, but Khron, the god of war, has other ideas. He gives Farrell a new mission: free the survivors of the ancient dwarf realm of Trellham from their three-thousand-year banishment. To fulfill Khron's near impossible task, Farrell will need the help of his distance ancestor, the legendary wizard Kel. But Kel has been dead for a thousand years. Farrell finds information hinting that Kel is alive, so he moves his search to Dumbarten, Kel's birthplace. To reach Dumbarten unannounced, Farrell and Miceral disguise themselves as mercenaries on board a merchant vessel. Their journey is disrupted when pirates attack their ship. While attempting to subdue the attack, Farrell is struck down by one of Meglar’s minions. Unconscious and trapped in his own mind, Farrell's only chance for survival rests with Miceral and the peregrine king Rothdin entering his thoughts and helping him sort fact from illusion. To reach Farrell, they will need to rely on an untested spell from one of Kel's spellbooks. If they succeed, Miceral can guide Farrell home safely. If not, Farrell will destroy not only himself, but Miceral, Rothdin, and everyone around him. DSP Publications Length: 99,775 words/296 Pages Release Date: April 14, 2015

Video Trailer:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bk6OfKOU6nc&feature=youtu.be

EXCERPT:

“Relax, my friend.” Klissmor’s presence calmed Miceral’s growing anxiety. “You won’t feel my presence.” Miceral took a deep breath. “Will I be able to hear?” “Every word. Ready?” “No, but let’s do it.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I need your eyes open for everyone to see.” He snapped his lids open, blinking several times before could focus again. “Sorry.” “Master Teberus.” Miceral knew the words came from him, but as promised, he didn’t feel anything. “I have Masters Erstad and Wesfazial as well as Wizard-Priestess Glendora. Ask your questions to Miceral and we four will also hear you.” “Astounding.” The elder Arlefor glanced at the high priestess. “All four at once?” “Wizard.” Miceral had heard that tone enough to know Klissmor’s mood. “Maintaining this link, this far away with this many minds, is a strain. If we are to save Farrell, you must focus on him.” “Of course. My apologies.” Teberus bowed deeply. “My examination of the one who did this to Farrell confirmed that he is no wizard.” “Then how in the eight gates of Neblor did that man defeat Farrell?” Even though Teberus couldn’t know, Miceral recognized the voice as Wesfazial’s. “The obvious answer is the correct one. A wizard gave this man the weapon.” “But Farrell could defeat all four of us and all the other wizards you brought with you and not be tested.” Erstad’s steady temperament sounded tested. “No weapon used by a nonwizard should be capable of this.” Teberus raised the crest of his hairless eyebrow. “But since that is what happened, we must use it as the basis of our search for a cure.” No one answered. As the silence dragged on, Miceral’s anxiety slowly returned. If Haven’s senior wizards didn’t know what to do, who could? “Tell us what happened.” Erstad’s request almost didn’t register with Miceral. “No,” Klissmor said. “Show them. Let them see the memory.” Miceral closed his eyes and focused on reliving the attack. The clarity of the image caused his chest to tighten, making it hard to breathe. He knew the result, but watching it again, almost in slow motion, added to his agony. When the image played over again, he realized Klissmor must have been guiding his thoughts. “My apologies, old friend—the need is great.” Klissmor’s voice didn’t interrupt the stream of images. “Do whatever you need. Just find a way to save Farrell.” “Your friends are doing all they can. Have faith that Lenore will send us what we need.” When the memory started for the third time, he didn’t find any comfort in Klissmor’s assertion. The Six wouldn’t—couldn’t—help. He needed something that didn’t exist—a great wizard like Heminaltose or Kel. “In theory, I recognize the magic.” Erstad sounded confused. “But I’ll need to find a reference to be sure.” “What about Farrell?” He knew he shouted, or at least what Farrell told him passed for shouting, but he couldn’t prevent it. “He could be dead before you find that.” “It can’t be helped, Miceral. I need to be sure before I suggest a counterspell. If I’m wrong, whatever I try might kill him.” “He is in no immediate danger.” Teberus put his hand on Farrell’s forehead. “But my fear is the number of spells that draw on him for power. I can only give him but so much. If he doesn’t wake, his body will burn out.” “Do what you can, Master Teberus. We’ll begin searching immediately and contact you when we find the answer.” When Erstad stopped speaking, Klissmor’s presence left with him. “Hurry. Please.” Miceral knew no one heard him.

BUY LINKS

DSPP Link: http://www.andrewqgordon.com/2015/04/champion-of-the-gods-books-one-and-two-available-now/
Amazon Link: http://www.amazon.com/The-Eye-Champion-Gods-Book-ebook/dp/B00VGZB6SS Amazon UK Link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Eye-Champion-Gods-Book-ebook/dp/B00VGZB6SS
Are Omnilit Link: https://www.omnilit.com/product-theeyeandthearm-1773344-234.html

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andrew Q. Gordon wrote his first story back when yellow legal pads, ball point pens were common and a Smith Corona correctable typewriter was considered high tech. Adapting with technology, he now takes his MacBook somewhere quiet when he wants to write. He currently lives in the Washington, D.C. area with his partner of eighteen years, their young daughter and dog. In addition to dodging some very self-important D.C. ‘insiders’, Andrew uses his commute to catch up on his reading. When not working or writing, he enjoys soccer, high fantasy, baseball and seeing how much coffee he can drink in a day and not get the shakes.

SOCIAL MEDIA:

Website: www.andreqgordon.com
Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/andrewqugordon
Facebook Profile: https://www.facebook.com/dominic.andrews.7568
On Twitter: @andrewqgordon
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+AndrewQGordon/posts
 Email: andrewqgordon@gmail.com

 GIVEAWAY

FIVE Winners will win one e-copy of ANY book* each from DSP Publication’s backlist. *Giveaway is of any currently released DSPP book, which excludes the books that are on pre-order and “The Eye And The Arm”. a Rafflecopter giveaway