I Can Hardly Imagine Worse

I don't understand negative book reviews, and I have never been compelled to write one. If a book doesn't click with me, it doesn't click with me. Maybe if the book were racist, sexiest, and undecipherable, maybe I'd think that it would benefit society to hear my opinion. Otherwise, I recognize that nothing pleases everyone so if I read a book I don't like, I move on to the next book. My opinion about negative reviews was, unfortunately, exacerbated by my very worst one. You see, my worst review was also my FIRST review.

That's right. The very first review I received for my debut novel, HOUSE OF THE RISING SON, was a 1-star review. And it gets worse. The reviewer remarked, "I admit it. I skimmed it." She went on to say that she didn't like the main characters.

She hadn't even read it.

I am a realist. I hadn't expected the world to fall in love with me at first reading. I didn't think I was the next Laurell K. Hamilton. I just hoped some folks would find my book and enjoy the story, maybe connect with my characters. I knew that a book about a bisexual incubus with kids and a screwed up childhood wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea. Still, I couldn't have anticipated that someone who "skimmed" the book would be so publicly and permanently negative. Yes, 1-star reviews are permanent. They affect an overall rating in a way that is difficult to overcome, mathematically speaking. Fortunately, I'm surrounded by kind, generous, and experienced authors who talked me off of the ledge. I recall, in particular, a letter from syndicated columnist and author Vicki Williams. Her words of support and encouragement meant (and still mean) so much to me.

For giggles I read the 1-star reviews of my favorite books.Doing so helped me to understand something about the review process. Since nothing pleases everyone and we live in a world where the internet makes it easy for people to express all sorts of views, negative reviews are the cost of being a writer. Our work is public, therefore opinions about it will be too. It is also clear to me that most people don't understand the ramifications of negative reviews and consequently don't hesitate to give a very low rating for peculiar reasons. For instance:

• "I skimmed it."  How do you know if it was good or bad?
• "I hated the cover." Not a commentary on the story.
• "Just got the book, I'll change the review after I read it." No. Just no.
• "Not the type of book I care to read." And that deserves a low rating?
• "I skipped every scene this character was in...The book was confusing." Of course it was confusing.

Overtime, House of the Rising Son received more reviews, including many 4 and 5-star accolades. The fact that readers enjoy Cheyenne's story (and find him as sexy as I do) is encouraging, and has strengthened my commitment to continue writing. I do still read my reviews (can't help myself) but I take them for what they are: One person's experience. Bad reviews are going to happen. So are good ones.

Their First Kiss #SexySnippets

Today's 7 sentence sexy snippet is from House of the Rising Son. It's the first kiss between Cheyenne (the hero and incubus) and Alexander, the human who is inexplicably drawn to him. Well, at least inexplicable to Alexander.

---

He wanted Cheyenne--the surprise was it never occurred to him he’d have the chance to do anything about it. But here he was, looking into the eyes of the person he’d fantasized about for months, the person who’d already set his life on edge. How many chances would he get if he blew this one and then regretted it?

He tilted his head, leaned down and pressed his lips against the smaller man’s. Cheyenne kissed him back, parting Alexander’s lips with his tongue and slipping inside.

The hunger that Alexander had buried for so long ignited in the kiss and melted away any lingering doubt. This felt more than right—kissing Cheyenne felt like home.

---

Where It Begins: Writing a Prequel

At first glance it would seem that writing a prequel would be easy. After all, the outcome is known. The problem is how much and what needs to be included to tell the story. After Midnight, prequel to House of the Rising Son, had a particular problem. Cheyenne is introduced in HOTRS as a single father of two children. You, the reader, asked who and where were their mothers.

Of course I know. I have the backstory. I know why the children are with him. But I presenting their mothers, Ria and Jewel, as women/vampires who love their children AND care for Cheyenne was tricky. They didn't easily give up the kids. They made the tough decision to part with their children as a matter of safety. The children's safety.

Obviously After Midnight was not a book that would have a Happily Ever After ending. But a Happy For Now between Ria and Jewell was necessary. So the story ended at a moment of joy for them.

It was an interesting novella to write. I hope it supplies some answers to readers and perhaps raises questions about when and where the moms reappear. As for the actual transfer of the children to Cheyenne, that story will come. When they make their next appearance Ria and Jewell will tell us.

After Midnight is available on Amazon. 

It Was Always Love

A wall in my bedroom

I'm a writer. There has always been something cathartic in telling a story. So in the midst of incredible sadness I am sharing my story with you.

My partner says that she went to the movies with a friend one day to see whatever show happened to be playing and ended up seeing Purple Rain, a movie that changed her forever. From that moment on she was obsessed--still is--and thanks Prince for much of the joy she's had in her life.

My path was not as direct. He had to touch my life three times before I listened.

1979

Thank you for a funky time, call me  up...

On my way to high school driving the first of two cars given to me by my father, the song I Wanna Be Your Lover came on. The music was okay, but the lyrics made my head spin. Chock full of double entendres (I wanna be the only one to make you come...running), I couldn't get it out of my head for days. But trying to balance my perfectionist compulsion with wanting to fit in with my peers had turned high school into a three year long hurricane for me. I had a hard enough time holding on to my shit--I couldn't add one more thing to my burden.

1984

Somebody please tell me what the hell is wrong

The second time I became aware of Prince was when Purple Rain came out. I was newly married and in an unfamiliar place with no friends. I don't have memory of going to or being in the theater (my memory often fails me when it comes to very emotional moments), but I remember  buying a beta max copy of the movie as soon as it came out. I coveted that fat short rectangular box (I still have it), but for reasons I can't explain, I never watched it.

The third time, as they say, was the charm.

1987

In my darkest hour, you can be my bliss

I took a job two hours away from my home and my husband and lived with my mother. I had a great time. I loved my job, had some adventures with my mom (like driving 45 minutes to buy a pizza that boasted cheese UNDER the sauce, not over it), and spent time with my sister and brother and their families. Moreover, every other weekend I honeymooned with my husband. Life moved along pretty smoothly.

Except at night. I started having nightmares. At first they came infrequently, and I barely remembered them. As time went on they grew more frequent and more horrifying. Eventually I had bad dreams every night. There seemed to be two themes--black roses and elevators. Black rose dreams woke me up crying.  Elevator dreams were worse.

I know now that I was reliving sexual abuse I'd experienced as a child. I was in the same room, largely unchanged--the purple walls I'd begged for, music and academic awards (evidence of my hyper-vigilent perfection), and the bed. The bed.

Any time I was alone with my thoughts I thought about dying. What death would feel like. All the years of my nephews and nieces lives that I'd miss. Pieces of my nightmares started to come to me during the day. I searched continually for distractions, trying to save myself. One day I saw an ad in the newspaper about an upcoming Prince concert. I remembered his movie and that song, and how they made me feel. I really wanted to go, but not alone. My sister told me her husband was a big fan (her, not so much) and that he'd probably go with me if I had my heart set. He did.

October 1988

Do you want him, or do you want me?

We had tickets in the Nosebleed Section because we'd gotten them so late, but it didn't matter. The entire arena was filled by the presence of the little, ethereally beautiful man on the stage. I was captivated--couldn't take my eyes off of him. But the music transformed me. He sang of love and sensuality and peace and God and sex. His voice resonated, reverberated throughout my body. I sometimes make a joke, saying if he'd asked me that night for all of my worldly possessions I would have given them to him. But it was the truth.

The next day I went to every record store I could find and bought every tape Prince had ever released. I drove around for hours listening to his music. He didn't become "the soundtrack of my life". He became my reason to keep living.

1991

I want to jump for joy and thank him I'm not alone

I'd gotten a bigger and better job and moved back with my husband. While stalking a record store (my new hobby), I came across Prince's official fan magazine, Controversy. Not only was it heaven on the page with big, color, never before seen pictures of him, but it had a pen pal section. Suddenly, I wasn't alone. I'd found my tribe--men and women who experienced Prince the way I did.  Miraculously, the first person I connected with became my partner. I like to say Prince gave her to me.

Present day

Can't begin to understand how I feel about you, everything I want to do I can't do without you

My life is filled with good friends who I connect with over songs and youtube clips, through marriages and divorce, through children and grandchildren, over the mountains that life put in front of our best efforts and under the bridges that we've fallen from. When we're happy, we listen to his music and watch his movies. When we're sad, we do the same. Since his passing, we cling to each other and assure ourselves we'll get through this, and that we'll find joy again.

FullSizeRender 4

I've seen Prince in concert over one hundred times. I have every song he's released, and sometimes multiple versions thereof. My partner and I celebrate his milestones--birthdays, awards, performances. Our annual Super Bowl parties celebrate his 2007 award-winning appearance. Many of our milestones are commemorated with concerts that hold special meaning. There is not one room in our home in which he's not evident, either in fact or by influence. (We're still trying to figure out how to put the Shower Poster in the bathroom.)

My friends and I are asking questions of ourselves and each other. Where do we go from  here? Who will we be, if not Prince Fans? How will it feel to not look forward to his next album, the next concert, the next TV appearance?

The only answer is that his music is a part of us. It's in our cells and are the songs in the background of everything. Our experiences with him and because of him live on.

• Getting his autograph in NYC and almost fainting because we thought he'd levitated, a tiny angel dressed in white.
• Nearly being "rear-ended" by him in MPLS because he was driving too fast and we were going too slow.
• Hearing gunshot and fearing for our lives as we left Glam Slam, his former club.
• Flying to England for concerts and spending a sleepless night at the only after show I've attended.
• Going to his store in MPLS so many times the manager told his staff "Play whatever videos they want to see".
• Grieving with him, from a distance, when he lost his child.
• Meeting our pen pals. (LOVE YOU ALL)
• Standing outside at 2am in line for a show, with some of the craziest and friendliest people we've ever met.

Never say the words "They're gone"

The world is off its axis. I already miss him. My heart aches, and in quiet moments it's hard to breathe. I'm not ready to watch all of the tributes. I can't even listen to his songs without overwhelming sadness. But I'm ready, finally, to say a few things to him.

Dearest Prince,

I am ever grateful for the beautiful ways you've touched (saved) my life and for all of the people that are in it because of you. I'm thankful for your music which fuels my soul. 

There was no way you could have known, but it was always love. I've been blessed to have shared the planet with you.

I wish you heaven. 

I Used to Have Pen Pals

Before the Internet I use to have pen pals. Some of the pen pals were in circles with my other pen pals and we had community of people with shared interest. When the Internet came along it seemed logical to send email instead of snail mail. That was a wonderful boon. No postage costs and no stationery to buy. ​Except I love beautiful stationery. I continued to buy it even though I had no one to share with. The second problem, and really the biggest, was that with instant communication, there was no time for anything to happen between emails. Therefore, there was nothing to talk about. Those days or weeks between letters became seconds and email ‘letters’ got shorter and shorter until they disappeared into the black hole of social media.

First it was My Space. At least you had to log on to MySpace to see if anyone had written to you.​Then there was Facebook and no one wrote to anyone specifically. People just blurted any thought out there for you to see, or not, on your feed. And no one was communicating with anyone.

I miss connecting with people who share the same interest as I have. Blogs seem to have the most potential to actually communicate —assuming people comment on posts. I blog because I miss that community I had back in the 90s.

My interests have changed since then in many ways. I don’t show dogs any more or do crafts. I still write and more of my time is spent on that. I still love music and movies and books. My favorite authors are still the same. It’s nice to be able to find LGBT books out in the open instead of only available on hard to find websites. Supernatural/paranormal books, movies, and TV shows abound.

Through blogging I hope to connect with others who share my interests. So if you write,or like to read, love animals, or enjoy music, stop by and say so. I look forward to meeting you.

A Night at Lady Jane's Salon

To places near or far, my partner and I love to travel. I especially love the adventures I get to have as a newly published author, meeting readers and finding comraderie with fellow writers. Last Monday  was one such adventure. I was scheduled to read an except from my book, HOUSE OF THE RISING SON at Lady Jane's Salon in New York City. Since parking in the city can be a nightmare, we decided to take the train--and because we are pathologically early we timed the trip to include a two hour window to relax before we needed to be at the venue.

We neglected to factor in the "police activity at the Botanical Gardens", which was announced over the train's loudspeaker. At the first notice that the train would be delayed, we smugly congratulated ourselves for building in ample time for just such emergencies.

When not at a complete stop, the train inched along. We checked our watches compulsively, growing more anxious as the minutes ticked away. Finally, we arrived at Grand Central Station at precisely the time we should have been walking into the doors of Lady Jane's.

Our short little legs sprinted to the street for a taxi, not bothering to stop at a restroom despite a desperate need to do just that. Given my increasing stress level (due in part to all of the police activity lining the streets and part to the sands of time streaming to the bottom of the hour glass), it's a wonder I didn't have an accident.

Speaking of accidents, once in the taxi we seemed to court death and barely avoided hitting pedestrians as they nonchalantly crossed the terrifyingly busy streets. Apparently NYC folks believe that if they don't look at the vehicle or driver, they won't get hit. New Yorkers, I offer you a word of advice: Do not visit Connecticut. Just stay home. Hit and runs are a pastime here. The streets are not your friends.

Miraculously we made it to Madame X's, the sexy, sultry bar that hosts Lady Jane's. To enter, you have to walk down a short flight of stairs to a door below street level. Once in the club, you have to walk up a long flight of stairs to the Salon.

The space for the reading was cozy, filled with low, ornate sofas and an eclectic array of chairs tucked into dark alcoves around the room. At the far end of the room and up a short wrought iron stair case was the small stage.

There was a great deal of excitement in the air, as the night also celebrated Lady Jane's seventh year. The room was packed with readers, writers and other industry professionals. Representatives from Women in Need, a nonprofit organization serving homeless women and children were on hand to receive a contribution from Lady Jane's. A contingent from Tor Forge Books was there to support their author Katie Lynch, and sponsor the anniversary celebration. In addition to Katie and me, Hope Tarr (Lady Jane co-founder), Leanna Renee Hieber (Lady Jane co-founder) and Lauren Willig were on hand to read excerpts from their works.

I'm not going to lie to you. I was so nervous. I mean...who the hell am I to think I belong among these multi-published, award winning authors? But I did it. I read the first chapter of my book and guess what? I didn't faint, and the audience laughed in all the right places. Maybe they liked it. Liked me?

After the readings and a champagne toast (courtesy of Tor), people headed downstairs to the bar. We debated grabbing something to eat, or going home. Home won.

By three a.m. the adventure was over and we were back in Connecticut, humbly walking our dogs and dreading the six a.m. alarm. Back to the day job.

#bookreview Scrivener Superpowers: How to Use Cutting-Edge Software to Energize Your Creative Writing Practice

I bought my first copy of Scrivener as a result of attempting Nanowrimo a few years ago. Since then I have watched tutorials, bought two books on the program, and attended two all day workshops. Each time I thought I understood how to use the program until I got into the actual writing. Then I had to choose between spending hours learning the program or writing my book. I chose to write my book. I opened the program a few times with other projects only to get frustrated and go back to my old method. Then, I was offered a copy of Scrivener Superpowers by M.G. Herron in exchange for an honest review. I read Mr. Herron’s introduction and pulled up my copy of Scrivener to follow along. I wanted to see if it was as easy while using it as it had seemed when I listened to people talk about how to use it.

One major advantage was that I could have Scrivener open and in use, and Mr. Herron’s book also open on the screen readily available if I had questions. The time I spent learning the program became just another part of the process, not a separate activity taking up valuable writing time.

Mr. Herron writes in a casual style that makes his subject matter easy to understand. He also gave examples of how he uses Scrivener in his own writing. I had several ‘ah ha” moments reading this book. The e-book contains numerous links to other material that will take the reader deeper into whatever aspect he is explaining at the time. This will become a valuable tool in my writing.

#Scintillating Sunday at LAM!

Welcome to the "Scintillating Sunday" blog hop. Below is an excerpt from House of the Rising Son. Alexander has just settled in to watch the show. Cheyenne, the incubus rocker (and the guy Alexander might be falling for) is about to perform.

~~~~ The blue-gray glow of the synthesizer’s lights increased with the music’s crescendo and tugged him to the edge of his seat. The beginning of a show was one of his favorite parts. He was also partial to the middle and the end.

But Alexander didn’t applaud and stomp and scream in anticipation like the rest of the crowd. He was grateful to be able to keep his composure, but the truth was, it was all he could do to remember to breathe.

With a burst of light and a thunderous chord, Cheyenne appeared at center stage, arms out from his sides. An ethereal white light illuminated him. A rock and roll messiah.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed a scintillating snippet. Check out the rest of my blog for more information about Cheyenne or the book that tells his story. And enjoy the rest of the hop!

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Changes and Icing on the Cake

This time of year it seems natural to plan for changes I'd like to make in the upcoming year. This usually starts when I sit down to write my Christmas newsletter.

First, I'm surprised by the things I did accomplish. That's a good feeling. Then I look at last year's goals that were not accomplished and evaluate whether or not I want to carry them over into the new year. Some are easy-There's work to do on the house. That will be on the list every year, I suspect.

There are writing practices I want to continue and hope for better results, such as weekly blog posts, finishing Wolves (one of my works in progress), completing rewrites,  and posting a sh0rt-story or two on the website. There are skills I want to improve-setting and description, for instance.

There are personal matters I need to focus on. Health-related issues of course, but also interests I've neglected like gardening, birdwatching, and crafts.

Basically, it can be summed up as being more mindful. I intend to be more aware of and enjoy every part of my day, of my life. Doing the things I love with the people I love.

Everything else is icing on the cake.

It's a Wonderful Year In Review

Greetings from the wilds of Connecticut. As the New Year looms I’m doing my usual contemplation of the year that is passing. Per usual, 2015 has been filled with adventures and challenges. In January, a publishing company contacted me about my manuscript. The editor loved our characters and found our story unique. She requested that I revise a few things and resubmit my work.

Consequently, I started off the year tucked away in my office revising the manuscript. January and February are but a blur. In March, I received an offer of publication with Samhain Publishing. As soon as I signed the contract we received additional offers. Pretty cool, right? From March to August, I engaged in an apparently typical dance of edits.

March was rather busy. I participated in a workshop with the renowned screenwriter Michael Hauge, and attended a seminar on a powerful word processing application called Scrivener. On the non-writing front, my partner and I drove to New Jersey to meet our new crush, the WWE Superstar Roman Reigns. Unfortunately, once we landed there we learned a huge snowstorm was imminent. Logic and safety prevailed and we turned around and headed back home, barely beating the storm. (We later saw pictures of the dozens of vehicles stranded due to snow-packed and slippery driving conditions. Whew!)

April brought sadder news. Mu oldest puppy Chloe began to have back

problems, commencing a long journey of appointments, tests, medication trials, and sadness—I missed her incessant barking, her thievery of shoes and pens. My usually active and playful girl was largely sedentary and clearly in pain. Ultimately, she was diagnosed with bone spurs along her spine and arthritis. Thankfully, her current medication regimen seems to have done the trick. Chloe is as active, playful and annoying as ever.

Having missed Roman in April, in May my partner and I headed to Long Island for RAW, a WWE wrestling event and the last event being held at the Nassau Coliseum. Although we didn’t get to meet Roman individually, we saw him and my future ex-husband (WWE Superstar Randy Orton) fight and win their respective matches. It was awesome.

At the end of May, I loaded up Molly and Chloe in the car and headed to Va. to spend time with family. Although they were both harnessed onto the car seat, our high-strung not-so-little Molly managed to spend most of the trip squeezing against and laying on Chloe for comfort. It was their first (and likely last) two-day car ride.

We caught Kid Rock’s show again at the Xfinity Theater in Hartford. As always, he brought the house down with his musicianship and showmanship. Although we heard him, we didn’t actually see him due to the very tall group of dancing, drunken men in the rows in front of us. The highlight of the concert was the opening act: Foreigner. Kelly Hanson ROCKS.

I barely slept in my own home in July. We saw Chris Angel’s “Supernaturalists” show at Foxwoods. My partner and I are still talking about some of the illusions that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Barely back a few days, we then headed to Atlantic City. That trip was marred only by an unfortunate choice of hotel parking garages. Our car was miles and miles away from our hotel room—or so it seemed.

Later, we spent a luxurious week at the Marriott Marquis in New York City, attending the Romance Writers of America conference. I was presented with my Debut Author designation, acquired a suitcase filled with books, and met the CEO of my publishing company. We also ate at Junior’s in Times Square many, many times. Little Monkey came with us to NYC, of course, and had to be rescued from the deceptively high, glass enclosed elevator shaft. Actually, Monkey accompanied us everywhere this year. By the way, he’s still claiming to have written every movie on the SyFy channel that has a primate in it. Since he has yet to contribute to the household finances, we think he’s lying.

I spent August developing a marketing plan for my book launch. I reluctantly learned how to use Twitter.

September was an extraordinary time. I spent an intensive writing weekend with Mary Buckham, an author/teacher famous for her approach to plotting novels, developing active settings and more. This was also the month that my novel, House of the Rising Son, was published. I held a whirlwind blog tour (appearing as “guest author” on dozens of blogs between September and November) and participated in a Facebook event. The book launched to numerous great reviews. In October I participated in my first book signing.

To celebrate Fall, I enjoyed a day at a Harvest Fair and decorated for Halloween. My partner and I had a great time dressing up and sitting on our front bench handing out candy to surprised treat-or-treaters and some of their parents. Since the best promotion for a first book is the release of book number two, we trekked to Foxwoods for a mini writing retreat.

November was crazed. My critique group (Writers Circle) held its annual holiday party. This is a group of supportive writers helping each other to produce her best work. My partner and I attended the Rhode Island Comicon, fascinated to meet people as into Supernatural, Game of Thrones, dragons and Sons of Anarchy as we are. It was also the most crowded, claustrophobia-producing event we’ve ever attended. Conference attendees moved along wide corridors much like sardines would move in their can, often carried more by the current than by intention. Would we do it again? Maybe. Was it worth it? Well, meeting and having a picture taken with Jason Momoa makes most anything worth it.

Later in the month, I sat on a discussion panel regarding “Diversity in Genre Fiction”. And we again had the gift of time with family with a visit around Thanksgiving.

November was inconvenienced with medical issues. My partner took a tumble down the basement stairs. She was sore and bruised, but without any serious injury. On Thanksgiving Day I woke up to intense vertigo that lasted over a week. Thankfully my chiropractor is a magician.

December finds us both still recovering with antibiotics, Prednisone, and tea. We have big plans—a trip to Deerfield Ma., seeing the holiday lights at Lake Compounce, baking cookies and shopping. We have hopes to do these things and more as we start to feel better.

From our family to yours, we wish you a Merry Christmas and joyful holidays. All possible blessings of health, happiness, peace and serenity to you and yours in 2016.

All the best,

Trevann, Molly, Chloe and Lil’ Monkey

Zander and Chey in a NutShell #MFRWAuthor

Welcome to my Book Hook blog. Below are eight sentences designed to give you some insight into the heart of my novel, House of the Rising Son. Enjoy!

Excerpt

“What I feel, it’s because of your powers, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, some of it; I can’t help that. It’s what makes me an incubus. But it’s not like I roofie people. The first time I tried to seduce you, you told me to quit and I did. I never intentionally made you feel anything--not supernaturally, anyway.”

“Then what are you doing to me?”

“Nothing you don’t want me to.”

Sex. Rebellion. Rock and roll.

Living After Midnight, Book 1

Cheyenne is a half-human incubus whose star is on the rise in the Unakite City rock scene. His father, the leader of the supernatural races, would prefer he keep a “low profile”, but screw that. Cheyenne has as much music in his veins as royal incubi blood.

Alexander’s future is all set—finish law school, join the family firm, and marry someone who’d be good for business. Not that he has a say in any of it. He’s barely met the woman his father expects him to marry.

As Cheyenne’s musical career takes off, his carefully constructed life begins to unravel, exacerbated by an ex-lover who can’t let go, a crotchety barkeeper with a dirty mind and a pure heart, a drag queen who moonlights as a nanny, and Alexander—who’s not sure if he’s falling for the incubus or the rocker.

Cheyenne denies who he is, while Alexander hides what he wants. Together, they learn that getting what they truly want means being who they truly are.

Warning: Contains hot were-tiger sex, a Thanksgiving celebration that makes the Inquisition look like a tea party, and an incubus who’ll rock your world.

Buy it at amazon!

See more blogs on the Book Hook Blog Hop!

Something About Sexy-- #MySexySaturday Blog Hop #MFRWAuthor

It's My Sexy Saturday, a blog hop in which participating authors post 7 paragraphs, 7 sentences, or 7 words in line with the current theme. This week the theme is something about sexy! Check out more sexy author blogs here!

We offer seven sentences from our urban fantasy with LGBT romantic elements, HOUSE OF THE RISING SON--a story of sex, rebellion, and rock and roll. Enjoy!

~~~Seven Lines~~~

Alexander raised his glass, but forgot to drink as he watched Cheyenne. The musician didn’t disappoint. He fronted the band with his usual prowess, dancing and flirting, shredding his guitar like confetti. When the tempo slowed, he climbed to the top of a large speaker and dropped to his knees. Slowly spreading his legs, he fingered the frayed seam on the inner thigh of his threadbare jeans before gliding his hand up his body, to the back of his neck, across his cheek and to his mouth. The movement underscored the feral look in his eyes.

Heat flashed through Alexander’s body as he realized Cheyenne was looking directly at him.

Buy On Amazon

House f the Rising Son, Living After Midnight Book 1

Cheyenne is a half-human incubus whose star is on the rise in the Unakite City rock scene. His father, the leader of the supernatural races, would prefer he keep a “low profile”, but screw that. Cheyenne has as much music in his veins as royal incubi blood.

Alexander's future is all set—finish law school, join the family firm, and marry someone who'd be good for business. Not that he has a say in any of it. He's barely met the woman his father expects him to marry.

As Cheyenne's musical career takes off, his carefully constructed life begins to unravel, exacerbated by an ex-lover who can't let go, a crotchety barkeeper with a dirty mind and a pure heart, a drag queen who moonlights as a nanny, and Alexander—who's not sure if he's falling for the incubus or the rocker.

Cheyenne denies who he is, while Alexander hides what he wants. Together, they learn that getting what they truly want means being who they truly are.

Warning: Contains hot were-tiger sex, a Thanksgiving celebration that makes the Inquisition look like a tea party, and an incubus who'll rock your world.