My Day - My Book Blue Heaven

Today is my day to post!

Why? Just because. Don't you love to be able to give that excuse? Just because...

Do you ever wonder why an author writes the books they do? I have. Especially if the book is awesome and one I want to read over and over again.

So, today, I'm going to tell you a little bit of the story behind Blue Heaven, my debut male/male fantasy romance from Siren Publishing.

www.bookstrand.com/blue-heaven

I love challenges. You know, the ones where you feel dared to complete a certain goal in a limited amount of time.  I guess you could say I am very competitive, especially where my writing is concerned.  I used to belong to a critique group that loved to issue writing challenges.  My favorite was the one was where Blue Heaven, my debut novel, was born. We were told to write a 1500 word piece using a song (our choice) and a picture assigned to us. I was given a painting of a knight kneeling before a lady. The piece started with a mercenary entering a holy center to kidnap the province’s holiest of men, the Godchild. It was natural for the characters to both be male. I found their love story—yes, that is exactly what their story is all about—was enduring and enchanting.  The more I wrote about them, the more their characteristics came to life until I had ended up with a finished novel. 

 

With this particular challenge, I learned one important aspect about my writing. I love writing in the male point of view. For some reason it feels natural.  It makes me wonder if in a distant past I wasn’t a man. You never know.  All this makes me think about how challenges bring out the truth of one’s abilities.  For me, it opened the door to an entirely new genre, one I’d never considered writing in. Several of my old critique partners were surprised at the path I decided to travel on. I normally wrote sweet romances. I still consider my romances sweet only they are gay romances and (grins) they are a bit hotter. So now with each day, I compose pages in my works in progress with an ease that surprises me, and it’s all because of a simple challenge issued in the past.

If you take the time to check Blue Heaven out, please let me know. I would love to hear if I succeeded with their love story. Stryver and Blue would greatly appreciate it!

How do challenges affect you and your life? Share some of the moments which led you to a realization about you and/or some part of your life.

 

www.bookstrand.com/blue-heaven

Blurb

Take him from Heaven’s Seat. Bring him to me. We will protect his sacred head. 

Stryver Zorti’s mission appears simple. Kidnap the Godchild and deliver him to his master. But with the first meeting of the holy man’s azure gaze, desire surges in him to strip bare the God and touch the man within.

Worshiped all his life, the Godchild is shocked by the stranger who dares lay hands on him, even if it is to save him from assassins. With a different name given by his new ally, Blue is freed from the constraints of the holy order for the first time. He revels in the extraordinary experiences opening to him, then in the passion that sparks between him and the hard-edged, oddly gentle Stryver.

But a god does not love, and if discovered, their precarious utopia will shatter, destroying any chance for a future together--that is, if the assassins don’t kill them first.

Click Here to see the Blue Heaven Book Trailer

A Siren Erotic Romance


Excerpt - Chapter One

Chapter One

On strong winds from Heaven, Fate arrives to play with empty hearts.

Take him from Heaven’s Seat. Bring him to me. We will protect his sacred head. Master Aidal’s instructions ran through Stryver Zorti’s mind as he entered the main gate of the religious city. They helped him to remain focused on his goal.

Two Raegemon soldiers brushed past him. He stiffened, lowered his head, and glanced back. The two armored men disappeared into a cluster of people. They hadn’t paid attention to his rough, leather attire worn by most mercenaries. And why would they? Even mercenaries attended the annual festival.

He wished his old friend, comrade, and lover, Rance, was alive to help watch his back. But no, the protection, the connection they had shared on and off missions had ended a year prior after a poison dart pierced his lover’s spine.

He clenched his fists, shaking off the depressing memories. Once this mission was done, he’d have his freedom to live alone. Once free from his servitude to his master, he’d find a nice little farm, nothing too large, and grow fruit trees. He’d never seek another relationship. Rance’s loss hurt too much.

If all went the way he planned, he’d hide in the cathedral, and when night fell, he’d have the prize. He needn’t worry about the guard discovering his purpose here. He’d slip unnoticed by the warriors to steal their most precious person.

The Godchild.

He found his target, the holiest of men, on Sanctuary Avenue, the road leading to the Cathedral of Heaven’s Seat. Revelers flowed about him, celebrating the Leirinto Festival in honor of another flourishing year in the Raegemon region of upper Jomin Provence.

Stryver moved along the avenue, even with the dais carried by four shaved-head monks dressed in flowing, golden robes. Curiosity drove him forward. One look up close at the revered man wouldn’t hurt. A simple glance to measure what challenge his target might offer when Stryver kidnapped him.

He swung his gaze toward the human instilled with a god’s soul.

The wind gusted, ruffling Stryver’s hair and swaying the long linen bands streaming from the Godchild’s hat. 

Decorative pennants snapped.

Fathomless, clear azure eyes, purity radiating from them, glanced his way. They snagged and held Stryver’s eyes, burning into his mind, branding his soul.

The Godchild’s eyes widened with surprise, recognition, or fear. Stryver couldn’t tell.

A light flickered deep within Stryver’s chest. It grew warmer, the heat increasing with each heartbeat. He stumbled closer. He lifted a hand. Desire to touch the holy man overrode his normal caution. Uncontrollable need to discover what lay hidden beneath the white linen robes, the intricate folded hat, and the silken veil dominated his actions. He had to view the Godchild’s features, his body, naked to his gaze.

Heartbeats slowed.

Breaths lasted an eternity.

The light in Stryver’s chest brightened, spreading warmth, anticipation. The holy man looked away.
The connection between them broke. The Godchild’s attention moved to the next person lining the crowded streets.

Gasping for air, trembling, Stryver stopped, his arm still raised.

He stared at nothing, his senses dulled.

One of the monks mingling in the crush of people placed something in his hand, said a quiet, mumbled blessing before disappearing in the crowds.

Someone bumped him.

Bright clothes streaked by. Pennants waved. The long poles they were attached to tilted. Painted masks leered. The noise, the smells converged on him. Celebrants dressed in home-spun clothes, alongside dark-robed, hooded pilgrims, slipped past him in a human array of textures, noises, and odors, jostling him out of the way. The procession moved forward.

The mind-numbing innocence, the purity of the holy man’s gaze sent chills through Stryver. His body shook from the aftershocks. Weakened, vulnerable, he staggered into the nearest alley. He slumped against the dingy brick wall. He drew in deep gulps of air tinged with smoky incense to calm his racing heart, barely managing to gain control of his senses.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into? He couldn’t go through with this mission. The man’s power was overwhelming.