Self-Publishing

2 comments on "EXCERPT: Fierce [Simon Peters, mm, movie star]"

Title: Fierce
Frameset: Shame
Universe: Simon Peters
Genre: movie star, mm, abuse survivor

Blurb: In Shame, Simon faced a harrying experience and even after years he’s still dealing with what he went through. He’s just getting back into the world and he’s finding good friends to help him deal with what happened.

Author: I find myself really liking Colby Jackson. He’s this great guy that is reaching out to help a friend. He never flinches and he always steps up to defend Simon. And I honestly think that friendship is something Simon needs.

I wasn’t planning for Colby Jackson to be anything more than a throwaway character, but he’s made himself something more. Even if he doesn’t become Simon’s BFF, at the end of the day he’s a good friend, something that Simon never had before.

EXCERPT —

There was the scuff of footsteps on sand and he turned his head to see Colby approaching on his left.

“Hey, man, what you doin’ by yourself?” Colby asked, leaning against the control panel for the scaffold.

Simon shrugged. “Just being all broody and sad-faced.”

Colby stared off into the distance. He was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt with a pair of expensive sunglasses pushed up on top of his head. “Are you changing your mind about wanting to do this series?” he asked without even a hint of condemnation.

“What? No!” Simon shook his head. “I’m really having fun on this project. I just…” He glanced around and lowered his voice, “I was just realizing that I’m lonely.”

Colby gave him a surprised look. “I thought you were dating Adam?”

“What?” Simon’s cheeks flooded with heat. “Where did you get that idea from?”

Colby shrugged. “You always spend all your time with him. I thought it was a thing.”

Simon couldn’t help a flare of paranoia as he wondered how many other people thought he had a “thing” with Adam. That old insecurity rushed through him, that urge to find some girl to pretend to date so there would be no rumors. Then he remembered he didn’t have to hide his sexuality anymore. Everyone in the world already knew.

“I’m not dating Adam,” he said. “We’re just friends.”

“Yet you look at him like you want it to be something more.” Colby rubbed his chin. “I don’t know what to tell you. I honestly thought there was something going on between the two of you.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing.” Simon couldn’t help a twinge of regret. Adam was funny and smart and good-looking; it was Simon that was having all the trouble with thinking about being anything more than friends. “Besides, I don’t think he swings my way.”

Colby gave him a flat look. “Fishing for compliments now, are we?”

“What do you mean?”

“Please,” Colby shook his head, “I’m straight and even I think you’re really good-looking. And Adam? Well, he looks at you the same way I look at Ilsa Berman.” He whistled breathily, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You’re terrible,” Simon laughed. Ilsa was an incredibly beautiful model with flawless skin and long locks of white-gold hair. It was kind of flattering to be told he could be on the same list as her.

Colby looked around, making sure no one was nearby, then gave Simon an intent look. “You should ask him out. I don’t think he’d say no.”

“He hasn’t made any indication that he has any interest in me as anything other than a friend,” Simon said.

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re you.” At Simon’s expression, Colby shrugged. “Come on, man, you had some serious shit go down in your life. You’re obviously not over it yet. And Adam doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would make a move on someone that doesn’t seem to be interested. He’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

“And how do you know that? Have you talked to him?” A nervous churn went through Simon’s belly. It was disturbing to think that there had been a secret meeting where he was the subject of a big discussion.

“Naw,” Colby waved his hand, “I would never talk about you behind your back. But even though I don’t know him that well, I know enough about the guy to realize that he has a thing for you, a real and honest thing. He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars.”

“That’s positively poetic.” Simon brushed the hair off his forehead. “You sure you don’t want to write that down or something?”

Colby made a face at him. “There are times when I think you just can’t help being a complete and utter bastard. Have you thought about getting help for it?”

Simon bent to scoop up a handful of sand and flung it in Colby’s direction, watching as most of the grains blew away. Some hit Colby’s pant leg and stuck. “If anyone here needs help for their personality flaws, it has to be you. Dick.”

Colby grinned. “You know it.” He stepped away from the control panel and raised his arms over his head, stretching mightily. The fabric of his tee shirt pulled tight, showing off his muscular chest and arms; he’d rightfully won Sexiest Man Alive last year. “You wanna get something to eat with me?”

Simon wasn’t really hungry, but he stood up with a shrug. “Why not?”

They walked side-by-side toward the catering tent and it felt nice to know that Colby really was a good friend. The kind of friend he’d never been able to appreciate back when he was a self-involved twat.

/EXCERPT

0 comments on "Cover Reveal: Jagged Blade, by Harper Kingsley"

Here’s the cover for Shorts and Squares: Jagged Blade.
Jagged Blade
I really like it ^_^

Here’s an excerpt from “Bird of Paradise,” one of the stories in Shorts and Squares: Jagged Blade.

Candles flickered while incense burned. Paradise kept her bandaged face turned to the wall no matter who came to visit. She felt like a hideous monster as the bruises healed back into flawless flesh, yet her marred face was destined to remain a gruesome sight with the thick gash slashed out of her cheek.

The trainees brought her trays of food that she largely ignored. She picked at the tastes she enjoyed while feeling incapable of gathering the energy to even bother with the less tasty foods. She was tired of ashes in her mouth.

Paradise hugged her legs against her chest and closed her eyes. She would give herself a couple of days in which to feel worthless, then she would pick herself back up again and get back to the living of her life. No longer an Elite Courtesan, but still a member of the Pleasure Guild. The Matron would find her a position, or if she chose to retire there would always be her monthly stipend.

Once again she cursed Lord Gentle Valor and his mad desire to see her bleed. If she concentrated, she thought she could still hear the sound of his mad laughter as he’d carved up her flesh. She’d screamed so loudly she’d damaged her throat, but at least the guards had rushed in to save her life.

Her career was destroyed, but she would live. She would let that be enough.

I will not be defeated by such a mindless beast, she vowed. She was stronger than anything he had done to her.

2 comments on "Mistletoe Hop Winners"

I’ve picked my winners and you’ll be the first ones to get Shorts and Squares: Jagged Blade.

Winners list:

  • Katherine S
  • Regina M
  • KT A
  • Karen O-G
  • Holly L
  • Booklady
  • Catherine L
  • Shelly H

You’ve all been great. Expect to receive a Smashwords coupon when Jagged Blade goes live.

Have another taste:
EXCERPT –

He could still remember being that nervous kid sweating at his first audition. His hands had been slippery against the hard plastic chair and he’d known he was going to be a dripping mess by the time he was called in. Except Simon had come and sat down beside him and given that trademark smile that had already brought America to its knees.

Colby had been shocked that Simon Peters would even speak to him, much less give him helpful advice. Yet every time they’d run into each other after that, Simon would always greet him by name and pass along recommended parts. It was because of Simon that Colby had gotten his career off the ground before his grandmother’s deadline was up.

Without Simon’s help, Colby would be running the family store. He owed the guy all that he had.

0 comments on "EXCERPT: Rascal Brand"

I’ve got this little story I’ve been playing around with that I’ve tentatively named “Rascal Brand” after the titular character. It’s kind of a “space hippie marooned on an alien planet desperate to survive” story.

Blurb: “There’s an intergalactic war happening between the Terran Empire and the Nyxti, but it’s very far away from Cal’s world view. He’s twenty-seven years old and he’s run away from his dead end job to join the Reclamation Squadron (which is basically the Peace Corps of the future). He loves helping people, but he was shipped out with Commander Steve “Ruins Everything” Sarta, the guy that blew up Bermuda Base. Ordered to the fringe worlds, they were assigned a flashy ship that turned out to be a refurbished model built on mostly recalled parts. Piloting a literal death trap, it seemed inevitable that they would crash land on an alien world. A world where peace loving Cal must survive alone.”

He woke to the smell of singed hair and the sense that something was very wrong. The air was stifling hot and the heat level was rising even as he tried to blink his head clear.

There was the blaring of warning alarms and everything was cast in hues of orange, the cockpit looking nightmarish and strange. “Wha…” he coughed, his lungs filling with acrid smoke. It smelled like toxic chemicals, and his confused brain tried to remember if the ship’s interior was made out of anything that was going to kill him as it melted.

Cal felt strange, his hands awkward as he fumbled his crash harness off. He grabbed the handle of the emergency kit and pulled it out from under his seat, slinging the strap over his shoulder crosswise so it wouldn’t get lost. There were other things he felt like he should grab and some part of him didn’t want to leave the “safety” of the ship at all, which was currently a burning deathtrap; he forced himself to move.

He stumbled passed Steve’s already bloating corpse, the slanted angle of the deck nearly sending him tumbling. “Sorry, buddy,” he rasped. The smoke was rising to choking levels and he covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve. The slick material of his shipsuit didn’t breathe very well, and as a result neither did he, but it wasn’t like he had much choice. He had to get out of the ship.

His eyes stung and burned as he left the cockpit and faced a small inferno. For a second he was terrified–the entire aft section was nothing but flames and oily black smoke. The fire systems hadn’t even tried to kick in, the little hatches firmly sealed, and he vowed to track down the guys from Hephaestus Corp and kick their asses. A malfunctioning fire suppression system was a bit more serious than the nonstandard sized cup holders. His anger at the company was tinged with hysteria. There was a good chance he was going to die scrabbling at the door like a rat.

Coughing and fighting the urge to retch, he stumbled to the emergency hatch. The skin on the right side of his body felt like it was trying to curl in on itself away from the heat of the flames. He might have thought the sight beautiful if he wasn’t the one currently facing death by roasting–orange and yellow and purple and green flames writhing and twining amongst the supposedly fire resistant seat cushions.

He reached out to grab the door handle, then cursed and jerked back as he felt his skin sizzle. The handle was burning hot and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed that the plasticene sheath had melted off, leaving just the bare metal.

Tears stung his eyes and the heat and smoke levels were rising. The panicked alarm had risen to a teeth jarring squall and the orange warning light was blink-blink-blinking, urging him to get the hell out before it was too late.

He pulled his sleeve down over his right hand and reached out quickly to grasp the handle and gave it a hard shove down. Tears stung his eyes at the pain in his already burned hand but he was running on survival instinct. He was not letting himself burn to death, not without a hell of a fight.

He jerked on the handle, then hurriedly let go. His sleeve had melted and pulled away with gooey strings fluttering like the tentacles of a clarphod.

With the release of the handle, the door sensors kicked in and he briefly saw a scrolling message pass over the glossy blue material: “Brace yourself for saturation.”

He didn’t have time to puzzle out what that was supposed to mean before the door blew off its seams with a muffled explosion and shot away into the darkness. And about a million gallons of seawater rushed in.

There was no chance to brace himself as the wave hit him and slammed him against the far bulkhead, the back of his head bouncing against the wall painfully. Water choked down his throat before he managed to close his mouth and he coughed and gagged as more flooded in to fill the ship.

First death by burning, now death by drowning. At least the fire’s gotta be out, he thought.

Rushing water was battering against him and it was a battle to keep his feet, but he knew that if he let himself get swept to the far end of the ship he would drown long before he managed to swim his way to freedom. All he could do was reach up with his good hand, grip the railing over the top of his head, and hold on.

Bracing himself in the doorway, water rushing all around him, stinging where it touched his burnt skin, Rascal Brand once again wondered what he’d been thinking when he’d joined the Service.

You thought you were going to help save the universe. You’d travel from planet to planet setting up food processing plants and teaching savages how to read Galactic Standard. He tightened his grip on the railing and closed his eyes. How was I supposed to know it was going to be like this? Partnered up with the biggest loser in the Service and stuck with the worst ship, the jinx; it’s a surprise we lasted as long as we did. And now I’m going to die here.

Cal tightened his lips. No, he refused to die like this, helpless and afraid, doing nothing to save himself.

He waited until the water stopped rushing past him, sucking in a last lungful of air before the water passed over the top of his head and he was fully submerged. Hoping desperately that the ship hadn’t sunk too far down, he released the rail and swam through the airlock toward the mysterious outside, bubbles caressing against his sides as the ridiculously outdated ship continued to pump oxygen.

Cal swam toward the surface as well as he could manage–he’d never been the best of swimmers and the murky water was thick with biologicals. He saw the shadow of creatures swimming around him and was vaguely terrified that he was going to be snatched up and eaten by some kind of aquapod. Mostly, he just wanted to breathe.

He released small bursts of air as he kicked his feet and arrowed his body up and up, or at least in the direction that he hoped was up. Knowing his recent string of luck, he wouldn’t be surprised if he hit bottom rather than reaching the surface. The last bit of irony before he died.

Cal dragged himself through the water, the emergency kit knocking against his hip with every furious kick. The slight amount of pain motivated him to keep moving even as his lungs burned and his head spun with spots and dizziness.

Kick, ow, kick, ow. As long as that pain was there, he knew that he was still moving, still desperately trying to survive. His ears were rushing and he could feel his consciousness beginning to fade. His kicks were losing their power and he knew he wasn’t going to make it. He was going to pass out any second and his body was going to drift down and down, picked apart by scavengers or left to rot away far from home. His mother was never going to know what happened to him. She would just assume that he’d screwed up one last time and gotten himself killed.

Clenching his teeth, he kicked and kicked and kicked until his legs seemed to disconnect from the rest of him. His world was contracting down into a pinprick, a narrow desperation for air. His lungs burned and he wanted more than anything to open his mouth and draw in a breath, but all he would get was a quicker death.

He’d rather go out fighting.

There was a strange, heady moment just before blacking out from oxygen deprivation. It felt as though his arms and legs were getting lighter and there was a sensation of drifting effortlessly through the water. Consciousness was fading, and to his oxygen starved brain it didn’t seem so bad. To stop and rest awhile. To close his eyes and just let go…

He broke the surface and greedily sucked in air. He floated on his back, his exhausted body a weight pulling down at him. He tipped his chin up to keep his mouth and nose out of the water. It was too much for him to swim anymore. He would drift awhile, at least until he got some energy back. Just a little while.

/EXCERPT