Mid Week Tease: Do No Harm #MidWeekTease #MWTease

Mid Week Tease buttonHello, chumrades, and welcome to Mid Week Tease! This week I’m featuring a snippet from Do No Harm, a story that started out as a potential entry for Evernight’s Dark Captive antho and quickly grew into a novel of its own. I love it when that happens.

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

All Daniel Graff wanted to do on Christmas evening was finish his surgical rounds at Lakeside Memorial Hospital and go home. When he’s kidnapped from the hospital parking lot, he’s astounded to find out that his captor is also his colleague, world-famous neurosurgeon Simon Falk.

Simon has good reasons for his actions, but Daniel is determined to fight him every step of the way, bringing Simon’s Dom side to the fore. When he learns something very unexpected about his handsome captive, he decides to make Daniel his, no matter what it takes.

Daniel noticed the movement first. The soft vibration of the road, broken by the occasional bump. Warm air caressed his face, scented with clean leather and the faint tang of long-chain monomers. The custom air of an expensive car.

He opened his eyes, and blinked. It took a moment to resolve the pointillistic study of grey and white in front of him into a windshield.

Snow. It’s snowing.

“You’re awake. Good.”

Still blinking, Daniel tried to turn his head. A sharp ache along the front of his throat convinced him that wasn’t a good idea. “Where am I?” he croaked.

“Specifically? My car. If you mean location, we’re on McKinley Road, close to my home.”

The voice. He knew that voice.

Daniel’s vision finally cleared, allowing him to see the man behind the wheel. “Simon?”

“Good, you’re back.” Simon Falk gave him a brief smile but kept his eyes on the road. “Forgive my rudeness. The weather is getting worse, and I don’t want to hit anything.”

“Uh.” Daniel tried to work through the cotton still blanketing his mind. The last thing he remembered was heading out to his car, and then—

—choking, a struggle, darkness.

“How—” he paused, dredging up some saliva, “did I get in your car?”

Falk’s lips pursed. “I’ll explain when we get home. How’s your throat?”

Home? “My—” Daniel tried to lift a hand to rub his throat, and couldn’t. Looking down, he saw that someone had taken off his parka and put both his hands in a sort of leather mitt. Each mitt was mated to a belted cuff with D rings; those were clipped to a belt that now ran around his waist. He tugged experimentally, then harder. His arms were immobilized. “What the hell?”

“I didn’t want you to panic and try to get out of the car when you woke up,” Falk explained. “Your feet are secured with cuffs, as well.”

With a dim sort of horror, Daniel leaned as far as his seat belt would allow and spotted more leather wrapped securely around his ankles. “What the fuck are you doing?”

The other man’s expression was calm, even serene. “One. Now, tell me what you remember.”

Daniel opened his mouth, then hesitated. Someone had grabbed him, choked him into unconsciousness. Now that he thought about it, it had been done with what could be called surgical precision.

Falk’s hands rested easily on the steering wheel. Large hands, exquisitely talented with a scalpel, they were connected to arms that were long and strong enough to wrap around his neck.

He swallowed again, more easily this time. “Did you—” It was crazy, totally unbelievable. But he had to ask. “Did you mug me?”

Falk’s expression remained serene. “I wouldn’t call it mugging. Your wallet is still in your pocket and your computer bag is in the back seat. But if you’re asking whether I choked you until you passed out, then yes, I did.” A corner of his mouth lifted, the briefest of smiles. “I apologize for the method, but I didn’t have time to acquire a tranquilizer and syringe. I was very careful, I promise. You should be fine by morning.”

Daniel stared at the other surgeon, trying to understand what he’d just heard. Falk seemed calm, perfectly normal. And yet he’d just admitted to assault, as if it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “Why in God’s name did you choke me out?”

Falk sighed. “I didn’t think you’d get in my car otherwise. I’ve done it before with others so I knew what I was doing, although I apologize for any residual pain I may have caused.”

Residual pain. That was the last thing Daniel was worried about. “Pull over and take off these cuffs.”

Now Falk spared him a brief look. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“You speak English, yes? No, I will not take them off. Not until we get to the house.”

A spike of fear punched through Daniel’s anger. “This is kidnapping. Goddamn it, Falk, you’re kidnapping me!”

“Two. And I prefer to think of it as protective custody, but call it whatever you like.” The neurosurgeon’s expression changed now, turning sober. “I have reasons for my actions, Daniel, very good ones. I know you have no reason to do it, but for now you’re simply going to have to trust me.”

Daniel could feel his mouth drop open, and shut it with a snap. “Trust you? You choked me into unconsciousness, kidnapped me, and now I’m supposed to trust you? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Three. And no, I’m not. Now please settle down. We’ll be home soon.”

Fists clenched in their leather mitts, Daniel sat back in his seat and fumed. Falk had a good two inches on him and at least thirty pounds, all of it muscle. With his hands and feet immobilized and a seat belt holding him down, the most he could do was lunge sideways and hit Falk in the shoulder with his head. I might be able to bite him, distract him.

A strong gust of wind drove snow against the windshield, reminding him of the weather outside the car. If he distracted Falk now, they’d probably go off the road. Even if they didn’t hit anything and just landed in a ditch, Falk could simply get out of the car and walk away, leaving Daniel behind to freeze. He said he had good reasons for doing this. It’s not like he’s a serial killer, for God’s sake. He’s a world-famous doctor.

Daniel shuddered. Yeah. So was Hannibal Lecter.


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Bloody hell, it’s hot

Technically we haven’t had our first official three-digit day in the clavicle of Texas yet, but the heat index makes it feel like 107°F out there at the moment. Why yes, I know this because I just went shopping like an idiot in the hottest part of the day, why do you ask?

But I shan’t complain. People who have to work outside in this heat have it much tougher than I do, and my heart and appreciation goes out to them. And frankly it’s far worse out in the west proper, where it’s predicted to get up to 119°F in Phoenix on Monday. I think the highest temp I ever experienced in Dallas was 116°F back in 2006 or so, and we had rolling blackouts to handle the A/C load. I’m hoping that doesn’t happen again (and I am SO glad we got the furnace replaced in spring since its fan runs the entire house’s cooling system) but this is only June and we have two more months of summer ahead of us here.

But there’s no such thing as global warming. Oh well — I can always remember this flashback to March 2015. Yes, we do occasionally get snow in Dallas. Could’ve used more of that this year.20150305_065440

 

A little quiet here in Casa Cameron

Sorry for the radio silence. I’ve spent the last couple of days watching the news about the Orlando shooting and having what I will politely term as “discussions” with people about why AR-15s do not belong in civilian hands. A word of warning; if you are someone who does believe that we all need assault weapons because of the people’s militia/Second Amendment/gotta protect myself from the government, please go away. I’m not interested in your Founding Father gun porn dreams about “good guys with guns.” And I will delete any comments to that effect.

While I didn’t lose a friend or loved on in the shooting in Orlando early Sunday morning, I do have friends who live there, ones whom I wasn’t sure hadn’t been at the club until they all checked in later that day. That is a sensation I would not wish on anyone. I can’t even imagine how it must have felt for the family members and friends who did have someone who had gone to Pulse that night, who were still waiting to find out whether or not that person was alive or dead.

49 of those families are now facing the task of burying a loved one. Claiming the body and arranging for a funeral is bad (and expensive) enough, but there’s all the other stuff that happens after someone you love dies. Cleaning out their home and trying to figure out what to do with their belongings. Finding a home for their pets. Closing out their social media accounts. Dealing with bill collectors wanting to know why the last credit card payment hadn’t been made (and suggesting that since you’re family, it’s your duty to take on that debt. Just so you know, you are not legally liable for a non-spousal loved one’s debt if you didn’t co-sign on it.)

These 49 families not only have to deal with all that, they have to deal with certain religious individuals (I won’t sully the title “pastor” by giving it to them) celebrating their loved one’s death and calling it “community service.” They have to deal with getting sucked into the ongoing debate about gun control. In a few cases, they have to deal with the fact that their loved one was gay and was too afraid to tell them.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this. All I know is that I’m sad and angry that 49 people were violently murdered by one small, vicious, self-hating person, and delighted as hell that Democratic representatives started shouting “Where’s the bill?” after yet another useless minute of silence, and that Democratic senators are even now filibustering in the Senate to demand new gun laws.

Sandy Hook. Virginia Tech. San Bernardino. Orlando.

Mass shootings like these don’t happen anymore in Canada, or Australia, or New Zealand, or the UK. They’ve got to stop here.

If you’re an American, please vote in November and help stop the next massacre before it happens.

 

 

And they wonder why “Big Publishing” is crumbling…

NotEnoughCaffeineSo I was reading an article at io9.com, as you do, about important SF books that lots of people pretend to read and never actually finish. As it turns out I’ve already read a number of them, so there, nyah, but I thought I would download some of the ones I haven’t read and take a crack at them (because I still write SF and fantasy when I get the time).

Headed over to the Big River, plugged in a title, and holy mother of Cthulhu. I’m sorry, and this is me speaking as an author, but ain’t no way I’m paying $15.99 for an ebook. I don’t care who wrote it or how important they are in the field. IT’S A ELECTRONIC FILE. Publishers don’t have to print, store, ship, or remainder ebooks. An ebook isn’t made from unicorn farts and fairy dust. IT’S A FILE.

What flavor of crack are the Big Five smoking, anyway? No wonder New York publishing is going straight to hell. They have no idea how to price their product so that people will buy. One of the biggest selling points about ebooks is that they lend themselves very well to impulse purchases. You can read about a book online, think, “Oh, that sounds interesting,” pop over to your favorite online retailer and have it downloaded to your reader in milliseconds, usually for the price of a Starbucks. No one blinks at a $3.99 ebook. $4.99 and $5.99 are starting to get up there, but are perfectly reasonable for longer works. If it’s an author I really like and want to read, I’ll go up to $8.99. Any higher, however, and I have problems rationalizing paying that much money for, say it with me, AN ELECTRONIC FILE.

And the worst part is, I have author friends who have been caught up in this egregious fuckup and are being dropped by their publishers because their “sales are too low.” Yeah, well, maybe if their publishers weren’t charging $11.99 for AN ELECTRONIC FILE those sales might perk up, hey?

In related news, it looks like I won’t be reading Gravity’s Rainbow, Dhalgren, or Infinite Jest any time soon. But I’m increasingly happy that I decided to switch to romance and be a hybrid author with a house that knows how to price its ebooks affordably.

80K to the Palace: Days Four Through Six

Sorry about that — I’ve been running around cooking and cleaning and critting and doing other stuff, and I completely forgot to update. My bad!

Days 4-6’s stats:

Words needed to stay on schedule: 7,998 words
Wrote: 8,337 words
Total word count: 16,532 words.

This is turning out to be even more fun than I thought it would be, which is good because fun = excellent word count. It’s nice seeing Danaë and Matthias six months on and settling in to life with each other, as well as their respective thrones. Now I just have to change the names up a bit because apparently some reviewers don’t know if I’m setting this in the real world or a made-up one because I’m using Greek and Belgian place names for Hellas and Ypres, and it’s confusing them.

Hint: magic users mean it’s a made-up world. Also, I was kind of in a hurry when I was writing the first book so I may have draped Belgium and Greece in fantasy garb and used them for settings. I’ll try to come up with more generic place names with Palace, I promise.

80K To The Palace: Days One Through Three

Remember my 83K or Bust marathon last September and October in order to get Empress of Storms done? That worked really well, didn’t it?

So I’m doing it again for Palace of Scoundrels. This one will be called 80K to the Palace, and the goal is to get the first draft done by July 4th, with publication ideally on July 19th. Technically it started on Sunday, so today (well, yesterday since I’m posting this on Wednesday) is Day 3. With a planned writing quota of 2,666 words a day, this should be relatively easy and give me room to finish other writing projects at the same time before they show up at my door with torches and pitchforks wanting to know where Cross Current and Do No Harm are.

Days 1-3’s stats:

Started With: 0 words
Words needed to stay on schedule: 7,998 words
Wrote: 8,195 words
Total word count: 8,195 words.

So I’m slightly ahead of the game, which is good. This, by the way, is going to be a bit more rom-com than Empress. There will still be magic, derring-do, and excitement, but there are also going to be some rather hilarious moments if things work out the way I want.

Well, well, well!

Would you just look at that!

ARePPSilverStar

Huge thanks to everyone who’s buying and enjoying Kel’s inaugural tale (and remember, reviews are love). I can tell you that J.T. is a VERY happy erotica writer right now, which is good because Valet’s Pleasure will be out on Tuesday and there is definitely a drive to keep this particular ball rolling.

I am grateful

ThankYou

An amazing number of things have happened to me professionally in the last two weeks things that have reinforced my decision to switch genres and start writing the stuff I always wanted to write. I am deeply grateful for all of these wonderful opportunities, and I want to thank each and every one of you who read my work because you’re the reason why so many good things are happening right now. You people rock.

  1. May 8th I signed a contract with Me and the Muse Publishing to have Trickster translated and published in German.
  2. May 15th held three important career milestones for me:1) For the first time in my writing career I cracked the five figure mark in writing income.

    2) I cracked the five figure mark for yearly writing income.

    3) I made five figures (oh, screw it — $10,000) on one title. And yes, it was Empress of Storms.

  3. May 16th I signed a contract with Juno Publishing to have Empress of Storms translated and published in French.
  4. May 18th I signed a contract with photographer Javier Cortina to use a photograph of Colby Keller from Javier’s The Legend of St. George photo shoot as the cover for my fantasy historical M/M romance The Chevalier, coming out in August.

On the verge of turning 50, I feel like my life and career are truly on track, and I’m very excited to see what the next few years bring.

Marvelous Monday Reads: Pharaoh’s Pleasure

Hello, angels, and welcome to yet another week. Let’s kick it off with newly minted M/M erotica writer J.T. Handler (I swear, I love this crazy goof — it’s like we’re twins or something) and the kickoff book in a hot, hilarious new M/M series that cheerfully romps through time in search of historical mysteries and babelicious guys (seriously, my SF writer heart is squeeing at the thought of this). I speak, of course, of the fast, funny, and pyroclastically sexy Pharaoh’s Pleasure (Pleasures in Time #1). I also know that PiT #2, Valet’s Pleasure, will come out next Monday, with a new release scheduled for each Monday running through May and June. Read on and enjoy!


PharaohsPleasureFinalHunky grad student Kellen Fox is screwed. Forced by his horndog employer to finish a museum exhibit in a single night (or else), he stumbles across a spell hidden in a carved scarab. Little does he know that reading the spell aloud will summon the gorgeous 17th Dynasty pharaoh Senekenre from ancient Egypt.

As it turns out, Kel is the only one who can help Senekenre with a delicate problem regarding his ability to sire an heir. Kel’s more than happy to lend a hand (among other things), but rendering this assistance may well change Kel’s life forever.

Story Excerpt

Kel’s mouth went dry. “Wait. You’re telling me this Amhemnet guy used magic to send you to another time? To this time?”

Senekenre nodded. “Yes, thanks to you. I take it you invoked the spell?”

“If you mean I read it out loud, yeah. I didn’t know it was a spell.” Swallowing hard, Kel forced himself to reach out and touch Senekenre’s arm. It was warm under his fingertips. “Oh, shit,” he whispered, yanking his hand back. “I’m not hallucinating. You’re real. You’re really here!”

“Yes, I know.” Senekenre came closer. At this distance, Kel could see the dark hint of stubble under the other man’s tan skin, as well as a small scar along his jawline. “You thought I was a dream, young scholar?”

“Uh, yeah.” The logical part of Kel’s brain screamed at him to step back, get the hell away from the exhibit space and its time-traveling visitor. The rest of his brain wanted to ogle Senekenre’s broad shoulders, cut abs, and sleekly muscled legs. “I mean, we don’t get a lot of visitors from the 17th Dynasty, you know?” He realized how idiotic he sounded and flushed. “I’m sorry. This is all a big shock to me. Could we start over again, sir? Your majesty? Sire?”

“Sire will do, young scholar.” Senekenre’s head tilted to one side, openly considering him. “But what land is this, that produces such beautiful men?”

Kel’s pulse sped up at the pharaoh’s jaw-droppingly sexy smile. Aaaand the long-dead pharaoh is flirting with me. Holy shit. He couldn’t remember anything in the research materials about Senekenre being gay or bi, but that didn’t make it impossible, either. “Uh, you’re in the United States of America, sire. It’s a country far to the west of your kingdom, across a large ocean. It didn’t exist in your time.”

“Oh. And are all the men here like you?” Senekenre said, reaching out to stroke the line of Kel’s jaw. “Such pure, smooth skin, and your hair, the color of a winter sunset. If you were of my time, I would make you a member of my court, simply so that I could look upon you every day.”

Kel licked dry lips, willing his cock to behave itself. “Just look?”

Senekenre smiled. “Hmm. Perhaps … kiss?” He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Kel’s.

Where To Buy

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AU
All Romance eBooks

About J.T. Handler

J.T. Handler was born on an off ramp of the information superhighway and chewed through the chain link fence in order to wander up and down Al Gore’s creation. Having spent the bulk of childhood determined to become a neurosurgeon, J.T. quickly realized in college that an inability to pass Organic Chem would make acceptance to med school problematic. The siren song of the English Literature major soon called and J.T. answered with a vengeance, taking up the mantle of the fiction writer. A joker, a smoker, a midnight toker, J.T. loves the open road and all the characters met along the way.

I never actually told you about the cover, did I?

D’oh.  So a couple of weeks ago an insanely talented Spanish art photographer named Javier Cortina did a most spectacular photo shoot of Our Man Sans Culottes entitled The Legend of St. George (click this link to see NSFW pics). And lo, L.D. Blakeley and I did squeal about the beauty of said pics, until I said the fateful words, “That second pic, the closeup where he’s holding the sword — that would make an awesome book cover, don’t you think?”

“I do! You should contact Javier and see if you can license it!” she enthused.

“No, I can’t do that. Can I?”

Suffice it to say that an hour later I’d fired off an email to Javier asking him if he ever licensed his photographs. It turned out he did, and we’ve negotiated a deal for me to use the picture as a book cover. Herein lies a story; Javier, quite reasonably, asked me what the book was about, to which I replied, “Um…”

*thinks frantically about picture*

“…it’s about…”

*pounds head against wall until something shakes loose*

“…it’s about a fantasy world loosely based on 17th Century France where an impoverished nobleman joins the royal guard as an officer and promptly gets embroiled in palace intrigue after he discovers the handsome young man he was flirting with at a masked ball is the Crown Prince, who is being blackmailed by a foreign ambassador. I’m calling it The Chevalier.”

I swear to God, I have no idea where this stuff comes from.