Happy Days: Jumps The Shark

30 Years ago on September 20, 1977 Arthur Fonzarelli in his leather jacket went water skiing and jumped the shark.

What is “jumping the shark“?

It’s a moment. A defining point in a television program or series of any type.
The instant you know that from now on it is all down hill. The climax you might say or in this case the moment the original premise is so lost, so off course that there is no point in going on.

30 Years ago Happy Days produced in it’s decline a pop culture idiom.

Joey W. Hill: Rough Canvas

Rough Canvas ~ Nature of Desire Book 6 by Joey W. Hill
From: Ellora’s Cave

When he logged on, the cell phone rang on the counter, startling him in the quiet of the early morning hour. Wiping the sweat off his face with one arm, he hobbled to the phone. He shouldn’t answer it. But it was the first time Marcus had called at this time. During the day, there was the pretense that Thomas was doing something else. Working, with family, whatever. To ignore it now would be like ignoring him if he stood right in front of him, and the bastard probably knew it. Plus he wanted to hear his voice. Why’d he delete that message? Marcus wasn’t calling as much anymore, and Thomas didn’t think it was because of the email option. It was as if he realized the power of sensory deprivation. Duh. Who better than a Master knew the power of turning Thomas’ own defense mechanism against him?

Opening the cell, he noticed it had a full battery. Crap. No excuse there. If he mimicked low battery beeping noises, Marcus would see through that pathetic attempt and laugh at him. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” The first notes of his voice, God, the first syllables, made need coil hard in Thomas’ stomach, twisting the pain. Thomas leaned over again, tried to breathe. Sought something to say. “I just finished the last one.”

“Just now.”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“You’ve got that dazed sound to your voice like you’re coming out of a month of solitary. How’s it look?”

Thomas turned, his gaze sweeping over them, resting on that largest canvas specifically. “I don’t know. It’s different from the others.” Son of a bitch. He slid down the side of the counter, pressed his hand to his abdomen. Quit. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to hear Marcus talk, let that voice pull him out of the place the painting had taken him, into a place somewhere in between it and here. “Don’t know if you’ll like it. If it’ll sell like the others. Don’t know…” Don’t know anything. But talk. For the love of God, talk.

“Unfortunately, selling and liking are two different things, because most of the buying public wouldn’t know talent if it bit them in the ass. It’s my job to educate them, Thomas.”

Thomas leaned his head against the cabinet, closed his eyes. “You know, it’s funny you’ve never called me anything but that. Most people assume I’m a Tommy, Tom.” Thomas covered the mouthpiece, coughed into a used rag and noticed without much interest he was coughing up flecks of blood again.

“When did you have a full night’s sleep last?”

“You nursemaiding me? Girl.”

“Yeah, fuck off. When, Thomas?”

Thomas rubbed his forehead, scanned the counter for his antacids, realized he’d taken the last of them an hour ago. “Last night.”

There was a pause on the other end, significant enough that Thomas had to squelch the urge to fill in the pause with some type of verbal squirming.
“You want to really piss me off, you lie to me one more time.”

Thomas licked the residual powder off the antacid paper. “Then don’t ask questions you already know the answer to. Jesus.” His eyes watering, he gripped the phone harder. “I don’t want to fight about this, okay? I’ve been staying up late to get the paintings done. It’s what I wanted to do. I can’t…talk…”

“Thomas.” Marcus’ voice came through sharp and hard. “You’re having one of those attacks again, aren’t you?”

“It’s okay, they happen. Marcus, I’ve got to go…”

“Lie down on your side, right now. If you’re not going to let a doctor help you, you listen to me. Or I get off the phone and call 911 to send an ambulance to your house.”

Alarm shot through him, increasing the fiery sensation. Thomas went to the floor, cursing and muttering, but doing it.

“Now take your hand, lay it over where it hurts. Don’t press. Just lay it there.”

Thomas complied, holding onto Marcus’ voice, fairly sure this wasn’t going to work, the pain too intense, but he knew Marcus would do what he said. Also, just holding onto his voice, fulfilling his instruction, was what he wanted above everything else. Just talk… It would pass. It always did. He’d had to have that extra strip of bacon this morning, like an idiot. He was hungry and he’d needed the coffee to wake up.

“Have you done it?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’m not a child.”

“You’re acting like one. Shut up and listen. It’s my hand there. Just move it, easy, slow circles. I’m sitting right behind you, leaning over you. I’ve got one hand on your head, stroking your hair. You feel my fingers there?”

Thomas closed his eyes. Remembered them, felt them. “The way you do when I sleep, but I’m not all the way under.”

‘That’s right.” Another pause. “I’m going to talk to you, and while I do, I’m going to keep stroking your head and rubbing your stomach in slow circles.”

He could feel it. Honest to God. And it was making it easier to breathe. Maybe it felt so real because he wanted it so much. Marcus’ fingers. Strong, long fingers, no scars or blemishes.

“How’s your face looking?”

“Sshh… Obey your Master. Be still and let me touch you. I just want to take care of you, pet. Just want you to let me take care of you.”

“But…who takes care of you?” There was a silence on the other end, but it was full of so many things it almost felt like Marcus was there, right behind him, his body close, curled up spooning with Thomas like that very first night, and many nights thereafter. “I mean, other than the million guys who’d be willing to hold your hair out of your face when you throw up for the chance to sleep with you?”

“One more comment about my hair and I will get a crew cut.” A pause. “You take care of me, pet. Just by breathing and existing, you take care of me in ways you can’t imagine.”

“You say things like that just to mess me up,” Thomas said. “Mess with my head. I love your hair. Don’t cut it.”

“Making demands?”

“Why not? You going to come punish me?”

“I might. Do you miss having your ass strapped by your Master? Serving me with your mouth?”

Something stirred other than the pain. You know I do. Thomas couldn’t say it aloud, but knew he didn’t need to do so. It was a part of the whole empty need in his burning gut that wanted Marcus.

“What are you wearing?”
It brought Thomas up short, it was so cliché. It should have called for a quip or a chuckle, but not when Marcus’ voice was sending frissons of energy down Thomas’ spine with that note of don’t-refuse-me-or-I’ll-fuck-you-up command. “I’m kidding,” Marcus said before he could respond. “I don’t give a shit. Take it all off. Now.”

Oh my, I know this review might upset a few people but I am gonna be honest here.

I think Joey W. Hill is a great writer. Not just good, but probably one of the best writers today writing about BDSM. Nobody has the clarity and focus when describing the relationship dynamics between a Top/Dom and a bottom/slave in a BDSM scene than she has. John Preston could only wish he had her understanding.

My problems come from when she steps outside of the dungeon and starts describing the characters and their motivations and their backgrounds. I have to admit it just does not ring true to my ear. Which is probably because I sat in the third row at several Skinny Puppy concerts.

Anyway, our heroes are Marcus, who is this very successful New York art gallery owner and art promoter and Thomas a highly talented artist discovered by Marcus’ and also his lover. Marcus is the BDSM Dom and Thomas is his slave.

Thomas has a run of bad luck with his father in North Carolina dieing and then his little brother getting into a tractor accident and unable to walk so he rips his “collar” off and runs back home to North Carolina to take care of his family. Marcus eventually gets around to visiting Thomas in order to find out what happened and why Thomas left him without saying goodbye. Marcus then proceeds to get Thomas to start painting again and spend a week with him in a remote cabin so they can work things out between them.

About Thomas’ “collar”… A gold waist chain? Huh? Collars are not fashion accessories, they are traditional symbols used to express and communicate clearly ownership and position in a BDSM social setting. Who is gonna see a stupid gold waist chain? What does a gold waist chain clearly communicate to anyone? Nada! Zilch! Collars in this case are symbolic like a wedding ring but only in the fact you are using a commonly agreed upon object that is worn to express ownership. You see it on some bottom/slave’s neck and you can then note that the person belongs to someone who you should be talking to first and seeking permission from before interacting with the bottom foremost. That is if you know what Leather Protocol is.

Initially this story seemed OK. Maybe a little soapy with the continual “will they / won’t they” get back together cycling that takes place over and over again. One minute they are divulging their deep seated feelings for each other and the next they are arguing and denying there is anything they can do to change what has happened. Wash, Rinse, Repeat.

My problems really started when Thomas is experiencing all these panic attacks and gastronomical pains from a growing ulcer. Marcus knows this is occurring and the reasons for it, but there is never a moment where he draws the line with Thomas and says “You are going to see a doctor now.” At no time does he put his foot down as Thomas’ owner (Which is what he says he is.) about this in a way that showed he cared for Thomas and he would not let the man continue to ruin his health with denial. In fact Marcus seems to do the exact opposite and feeds this denial and simply does not make it an issue until the very end and then only to Thomas’ mother, of all people, which just seemed irresponsible to me.

The biggest WTF moment in this whole book comes from the scene above where Thomas is lying on the floor writhing in pain, clutching his stomach, and then suddenly Marcus calls on the cell and phone sex breaks out. I am sorry, but the last thing I can think of when in real medically induced pain is to have sex. No way! Medically induced pain is totally different than say the pain of being flogged. The mindsets are night and day and I have never been able to switch those gears.

Denial seems to be Thomas’ main theme in the story and he goes so far as to tell Marcus he is considering marrying this girl his very Catholic mother wants him to hook up with. Wow, how long has Thomas been “not gay” and in denial? What is with all this denial when supposedly he has been running around New York with Marcus as his Top this whole time? Has he never sat down and reflected that there was no going back on this and he is queer, he is gay, he is a great big fucking cock sucker? I mean the guy is submitting to Marcus as a BDSM bottom but Marcus, his concerned attentive Top, never forces him to come to terms with any of it? Come on, Thomas has to have thought this part of the attraction through… at least as far as admitting he is gay by now.

Marcus is portrayed in the story as this highly regarded Dom/Top in the BDSM community. Marcus has never allowed a bottom/slave to become attached to him. How does this work? I mean from my own experiences in BDSM is it is all about the length of experience and the reputation that comes from being in a couple Top/bottom or Master/slave. Reputation for a bottom/slave stems from who his Top is, who trained him, for how long, or at least it did for me. The reputation for a Top comes from his track record in regards to how well he has trained and worked with bottoms/slaves. So how does Marcus get this high regard in the BDSM community if he never allowed anyone close? You can not get this type of respect based on your good looks and your distant pained expressions. BDSM is not about shallow posers or how well you can throw a dinner party.

The final blow came from Marcus yet again. At the very end of the story he purposefully puts himself in a position to be attacked and killed in some really dangerous area of New York all because Thomas left to go straighten things out with his family, but only after Thomas had promised Marcus he would be back. Instead of showing restraint and discipline (Something a Top should be familiar with.) Marcus suddenly throws this hissy fit and decides to off himself if he can not have Thomas as his lover. He even talks to Thomas on the phone while doing this. Marcus’ threat is apparent and obvious to Thomas and the reader.

I guess this was supposed to be the final big drama. Instead it just killed this couple for me. How can we have a viable HEA when the core relationship is this sort of unstable emotionally blackmailed codependency? Marcus just became this selfish, suicidal, fucked up immature brat that I would have walked away from after letting him know he needed serious professional counseling ASAP.

Till death do us part should never be a threat used to get your way or used to get the other persons love or attention.

Teddypig Rule #1: Suicide threats made by the Hero or Heroine or Significant Other in any romance and I mean ANY ROMANCE! in regards to the direction of the relationship involved, are as wrong as out right physical abuse preformed in anger by either party. No amount of fancy writing can justify it, the character will not be able to apologize for it, the story is never gonna pass go nor can it ever hope to collect my $200, there is no miracle of redemption that will work for me, none! nada! zilch! not even in your wildest dreams. Time to announce the loser baby and hang up the phone on some serious relationship poison. So long, Farewell!

I had a tough time with this book since Joey W. Hill is such a good writer but even her worst misstep is better than most writer’s best foot forward so Rough Canvas still gets a Grade C.

I am so not recommending it.

Tags: BDSM Romance, Ellora's Cave, Gay, Grade C, Joey W. Hill

What I Am Reading ~ J.M. Snyder: Beneath A Yankee Sky

Beneath A Yankee Sky by J.M. Snyder
From: Amber Quill Press

Brance Brenneman is used to harsh conditions—the eldest son of a stern Amish preacher, Brance was bit by a werecat as a young boy, and managed to keep his secret from his family until he was old enough to leave them and their religion behind. Years later, when the nation is divided by the American Civil War, Brance finds himself enlisted in the Union army. By sheer chance, he meets Caleb Chilson, a Confederate soldier who bears his same shapeshifting burden.

Together they leave the war behind to forge a new life in the wilderness of Pennsylvania. But trappers near their camp are hunting bobcats, and they don’t much care if Brance and Caleb are only in the fur part of the time. Brance finds his peaceful existence shattered, and he has to fight to defend the life—and the bobcat, the man—he’s come to love.

Tags: Amber Quill Press, Gay, J. M. Snyder, Weresomething Romance

Liquid Silver Anthology: Boundless

Boundless by Annie Dean ~ Bonnie Dee ~ Dionne Galace
From: Liquid Silver

Nothing about the old neighborhood had changed. Same rusty cars, same broken chain link fences, same tired houses with peeling paint or weathered siding. Teresa didn’t know why it mattered, but she hated for him to see where she came from. She tried to cover it with small talk. “When the mill closed, it hit people pretty hard. The area just hasn’t been the same since.”

A lot of things would never be the same. He didn’t offer his hand or words of comfort. If she wanted tenderness, she’d need to ask. Unless she presented him with overt cues, reading such things wouldn’t come easily to Dev. When would he have practiced? As they walked, she counted broken streetlamps. Dogs rummaged in nearby alleys. Beneath the heavy web of ugly electrical wires, quiet despair ruled these streets. The house looked exactly as she remembered it too: a dilapidated ranch with a detached garage done in bile-green siding. Two overgrown hedges nearly obscured the driveway and the half fence her dad had erected to keep out the neighbor’s dogs stood at a drunken angle in the front yard.

He seemed to read her expression. “Some flowers can thrive anywhere, Tess.”

Ben still kept the spare key beneath the mat on the front stoop, so she let them in. “He’s probably still at Graterford.”

Stepping over the threshold sent a cold chill through her. When she left here at eighteen, she’d hoped never to return. At twenty-four, the house seemed smaller than she recalled, tiny rooms, dingy walls and low ceilings. She flicked on the overhead light, noted the dirt caked inside the cheap plastic fixture. Her dad’s tweed recliner still sat before the TV. The stain where she’d spilled her grape Kool-Aid too. The place smelled faintly musty, a touch of mildew in the walls. From the living room she could either turn left down the hall toward the bedrooms or pass straight into the kitchen. Black and white linoleum. Teresa drew up short, her whole body taut. Seeing that floor hit much harder than remembering it. For a moment she thought she might be sick.

Dev spoke her nightmare aloud. “She died there.” Not a question. “You found her.”

“Yeah.” It took all her self-control to get the word out.

“Your father murdered her.” His voice sounded cool and remote. Except for the intense glitter of his eyes, she might even believe he felt nothing.

“Shut up.”

“He promised to love and cherish her. Instead he beat her to death with his fists.”

“Shut up!”

In two strides he crossed the living room and stood with her in the doorway to the kitchen. Side by side, but not touching. “That’s why I don’t affect you,” he said, as if in realization. “You’re almost completely armored by fear. He’s why you ran all the way to British Columbia, why you worked so hard to find somewhere you’d be safe.”

“You don’t know anything about it.” The words felt wrenched from her. She wanted to hurt him as he was hurting her, digging deep into the ragged edges of a wound she’d believed to be healed. “He caught her with another man, Dev. She came home with his sweat on her skin, his…”

“So she deserved to die? Did your God bestow the right of judgment on your father, Tess? And because your mother was a whore, you must be a Madonna? Because you were so afraid you’d turn out like her, afraid your father would find a reason to come for you next?”

Seven Days ~ Annie Dean

I am not a huge fan of reviewing an anthology due to the fact half the time you are simply telling people over and over again that they should have written a novel and they should have had better pacing. How boring is that? “Trick or Treat!”

I promise, I will try and ignore pacing problems and simply look at the stories written.

So, I was reading this paranormal about this girl Teresa about to take her vows to become a nun when she gets a visit from this sexy, demon, dragon, dude named Dev and then near the end of all that… BOOM! I was suddenly in the middle of this hard biting contemporary story that was like ten times more awesome.

How did that happen? All this dark stuff just rained down from the heavens. Don’t get me wrong, I liked it, but it was an abrupt and sudden change of pace. So let’s just say the paranormal elements were OK but somewhat used with a tad whiff of wish fulfillment especially when they up and fly to Paris.

It was the neat unexpected back story about Teresa that caught my attention and made me want a whole different story. One that was dark and contemporary and damn good. So I will be checking out Annie’s future stories for that to happen.

Annie Dean if you ever get the chance pick up J. G. Hayes ~ This Thing Called Courage because he has a writing voice very similar to yours when writing about the same type of people. His stories are about working class gay guys but the backgrounds and areas they live in are similar. I guess I would describe it as cold, dark, urban blight, with a dollop of humanity and very realistic people surviving despite their surroundings.

You would probably be most excellent at a similar style with admittedly more romance and less tragic endings involved. Hey, let’s all agree that we have tons of writers doing paranormal romance because fantasy is just easier but very few writers can pull off this type of convincing realism in a contemporary story. I say, Go for the gusto girl!

She gazed across the pumpkin patch toward the dry stalks of field corn, rattling and whispering their secrets to one another. There were many pumpkins left among the twisting vines and she wished she’d taken more to market. The number of direct-sell customers visiting the farm was down this year and pumpkins were practically unmarketable after Halloween was past.

Her gaze shifted to her scarecrow. “Well, another summer over. We may have actually made enough from the corn and soybeans and the stupid pumpkins to pay the taxes and heat the house this winter. Maybe even buy groceries, woo-hoo!”

Sam frowned down at her.

“Yes, I know, you were hoping for a Cancun holiday. Me too. Sometimes I’d like to sell this place, move to the city and never see anything except asphalt and tall buildings again.”

Again she looked across the fields at the stand of woods that marked her property line. Gold, orange and an occasional scarlet maple flamed in contrast to trees with dark green leaves that hadn’t yet changed. One of the neighbors was burning leaves and a smudge of smoke blossomed against the sky. Marie could smell it from a quarter mile away, sharp and tangy. It smelled like fall and made her crave a cup of cider and a doughnut. No, she wouldn’t really give up her land, but lately a need for change took hold of her and shook her like a north wind rattling the eaves on a blustery day.

The need for something new was so strong inside her today that it almost felt as if she was poised on the cusp of a great void, about to take a plunge. It was an odd feeling, and silly, because nothing was going to happen. Nothing ever did. Tomorrow she’d wake up to the same life as today.

“I should put in sunflowers next year. They’re a big seller.” She pointed out to Sam, picturing a sea of yellow faces turned to the sun, moving in unison to track the passing of yet another day. The image depressed the hell out of her.

“Next year. Will anything be different? Or will I still be sitting here talking to you?” She glared at the scarecrow. He gazed impassively back at her.

“Stupid, useless thing. You can’t even keep the crows out of the corn. What good are you?” She rested her chin on her hand, elbows on knees and stared glumly ahead. She had to get out more. Holding conversations with inanimate dummies was a little too Anthony Perkins in Psycho. At only thirty-two Marie already felt old and worn out, too exhausted to face the dating game. She’d tried all the unattached, local men she knew and no one was the one. Lately, she rarely went out with anyone except her female friends. Meeting a guy at a club in the city was even worse. You set yourself up for a one-night stand, not a relationship, and at this stage in her life Marie was more than ready for the real deal, someone who wanted to share a life and not just a night with her. She examined the straw-padded body and stern face of the scarecrow.

“If you were a real man, you’d know that I just insulted you. You wouldn’t stand for being called useless and you’d come down from there and show me just how useful you could be.”

If you were a real man.

The Straw Man – Bonnie Dee

Marie is a gentle soul living in the rural hinterlands, which is close to the winterlands but with less available men that come complete with all their body parts. Anyway, it is Halloween and that don’t mean a thing when she ain’t got that swing. Doo-wop Doo-wop.
So singing Disney tunes “When you wish upon some straw. Makes no difference how horny you are…”

Anyway, Sam “I’m Just A Love Machine” Strawman shows up to pound at her back door that night and boy does he scare some crows away. Sam brings new meaning to the term “straight on till morning” and Marie is heart broken when his cock is blocked by the rising sun. I am so there with her as she lays in that muddy corn field praying to the corn dog heavens to bring back her sometin sometin.

Hey, anybody who has ever been stranded in outer Mongolia or Baker, Oregon has been there, especially since the local male population is covered head to toe in bear grease and shuns the use of Right Guard. Even gay men are not that desperate. Well they are , but even they have standards. You are stuck with mail order and lets just admit that Amazon and Walmart do not carry “ALL YOUR NEEDS”.

Bonnie Dee rocks in making sure this feels like the whole story and nothing but the story, so help her God. Great pacing (oops) and a sweet candy corn ending for all.

The woman looked up at him with interest and Jack felt as though he had been punched in the gut. She had the look of an old-school Hollywood bombshell mixed with a Japanese anime character. She was a sex kitten, an innocent schoolgirl, and two fingers of straight-up, single-match scotch rolled into one. Jack felt like dragging her into a dark alley for a quick fuck, then asking her out to a nice steak dinner afterward. He couldn’t recall ever feeling quite like this in his entire life.

Her heavily lashed, almond-shaped eyes were shockingly violet and something told Jack they weren’t contact lenses. Damn, a man could fall into those eyes and never want to crawl back out. He cleared his throat and stuck out his hand. “Jack Ridley, KTCI News. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She ignored his hand and pursed her lips, raking her eyes from his scruffy boots to the top of his head. No doubt she was wondering if she should talk to him or mace him in the face and run away screaming. Her violet gaze settled for a moment on the scar on his forehead before moving on to meet his eyes. “Why aren’t you all suited up and wearing a tie like those other guys?” She tilted her head toward the other reporters talking to the crowd.

There was sexual appreciation in her eyes and Jack’s jeans became uncomfortably tight. He had to resist the urge to reach down and adjust himself. “I do the pre-interviews. I make sure that what you have to say deserves to be on the eleven o’clock news before I have you talk to our correspondent.”

She sucked her lower lip between her small, white teeth as she looked at him as though trying to decide if he was legit or not. “Hmm…”

Jack swallowed hard as the tip of her tongue peeked out to touch the corner of her full mouth. She was wearing a light pink lipstick and a generous amount of lip-gloss.
“Can you tell me what happened…” His gaze dropped to her nametag. “Kitty?”

“Like I told your crew, Jack…” She nodded at something behind him and took a step toward him to place her small, pale hand on the sleeve of his brown bomber jacket. “I was only a few feet away when it happened. One minute I had a pounding headache and wishing I could go home already and the next, I was flying across the bar. When I came to, the boat was there. There was, like … a flash of light before it happened.”

“Yeah, I heard. Like Star Trek.” He didn’t have to look behind him to know his crew was at his back. Tiff made a joke he couldn’t hear and Kenny snickered in response. He ignored the both of them. “If this boat just popped up right there in the middle of the bar, what happened to the people sitting there? They weren’t injured?”

“No.” She reached up to snag a lock of hair that had slipped out of her bun and tucked it behind her ear. “They were … um … just kind of pushed to the side. Some people were flung out of the way like me, but all I got was a scratch.” She pointed to the white bandage taped to her elbow. “Some people think it’s…” She hesitated and stopped.

“What?” Jack prodded patiently.

She bit her lip again and touched her neck with long, graceful fingers. Her nails were painted black. “It’s silly, but some people think it’s aliens returning a ship they took out of the Bermuda Triangle.” She took another step closer and leaned her head toward him as though to sniff him. “Could you spare a smoke? I quit an eternity ago, but after the night I’ve had, I think I deserve one.”

Jack reached for his pack and pulled out a stick. He meant to hand it to her, but she tilted her head toward him and parted her lips. He groaned inwardly. Was she playing with him? She had to know what she was doing to him. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple down the side of his face, but somehow he managed to bring the cigarette to her mouth. Her lips formed a smile around the filter, her violet eyes sparkling. He took out his lighter to light it for her, but before he could get it to work, the tip of the cigarette flared to life. Her eyes widened in shock. With a shaking hand, she took the cigarette out of her mouth and stared at it in wonder. “That’s some trick. How did you do it?”

Waking Kitty – Dionne Galace

Dear Dionne Galace,

I loved it. Kitty, the waitress with the pink hair and body by Mattel meets Jack, our pill popping, hard headed hero, and then things get really weird. Yeah, I saw Philip K. Dick meets Bubblegum Crisis a mile away and then some. Quite frankly we need more, more of this fine craziness damn it. I wanted Megatokyo and Boomers and the brother constantly looking up her dress even. OK, I did not get them, but demons or dragons or whatever were cool.

Listen Shomi ain’t out on eBook yet. So it is time to take the first punch. You realize if P.K. Dick actually had done a romance it would have been all Twin Peaks and would have given the reader no idea if the people having the sex were the people that were introduced at the beginning or the people that got the HEA. Because he would have had to point out the fragile nature of our concept of reality and our tenuous hold on it at best. So thank you for the restraint.

If I was gonna bitch, there was just a ton of things going on and I think it was the short story format that drew away from the meat of the “I am Tarzan, you are Jane” parts disrupting our chance to see them getting to know each other better in order to sell the HEA. I had fun watching you make your moves and build the tension though and figuring out where you were going was a hopeless task.

I can’t wait to see you fly with a whole book of your own. You are full of awesome.

Now for the grade, despite my noted anthology allergy… Well Grade B is for Boundless and a joy to read.

Tags: Annie Dean, Bonnie Dee, Dionne Galace, Fantasy Romance, Grade B, Straight

What I Am Reading ~ Joey W. Hill: Rough Canvas

Rough Canvas ~ Nature of Desire Book 6 by Joey W. Hill
From: Ellora’s Cave

When his father dies, Thomas is forced to abandon a burgeoning art career in New York. As difficult as it was to give up his lifelong dream, it’s nothing next to walking away from the man he loves. Marcus taught him to embrace who he is, a sexual submissive who responds to the touch of only one Master. But why would the sophisticated Marcus need some farm kid from the South?

Then Marcus shows up and offers him a way to continue his art career and help his family. There’s only one hitch — he asks Thomas to spend a week with him in the Berkshires. Thomas knows he should refuse. But he’s never been able to say no to his Master.

Tags: BDSM Romance, Ellora's Cave, Gay, Joey W. Hill

J.M. Snyder: Trin

Trin by J.M. Synder
From: Aspen Mountain Press

He pushes past her as he races down the hall. The image burns in his mind-he closes his eyes and still sees the gunner’s slack cheeks and open mouth, his eyelids half-shut in lust. A hand stroked Gerrick’s thigh, another curved around his flat ass, a man knelt before him with the gunner’s fingers plunged deep into his thick hair.

The hard length suckled between red lips, Garrick in him, fucking the bounder’s hot pink mouth as the shower poured down between them. The bounder, Trin recognized his eyes when he turned to see why it was all of a sudden cold behind him.

Gerrick’s eyes widen slightly and the gunner sighed his name, “Trin.”

No explanations, no hurried excuses-he didn’t even push the bounder away, just kept thrusting into the softness between his lips and uttered his name. Trin. For the first time he was getting off he said Trin’s name, and it wasn’t even on him.

Behind him Gerrick calls out but Trin’s beyond hearing. He runs down the hall, head tucked between shaking shoulders, chin pressed to his chest. He tells himself he won’t cry, even as the first hot tears cut through the sweat on his cheeks.

J.M. Snyder’s story Trin is set in a post apocalyptic world where Devlars (Dragon like creatures) attack from the sky. Only the wild and warrior like gunners protect the people who populate the string of towns known as outposts. Trin, a mechanic, lives in what seems to be the local truck stop with his older brother Blain and Blain’s girlfriend Alissa. Blain used to be a gunner who ran with a man known as Gerrick whom Trin has a well known long time crush on.

Then one day Gerrick rides in.

It is hard to call Trin a gay romance. It follows all the romantic requirements. You have two men, one who is not so secretly in love with the older warrior. They do get around to having sex and there damn well is conflict that keeps them apart. Well, if you read the excerpt above then you know it is not so much conflict as betrayal, on both sides eventually. They get a type of HEA but…

The real stomach punch for me came at the end. It is not so much an HEA as a coming to terms and accepting responsibility with what you have left after the illusions shatter. I know that sounds vague but just read this thing yourself. I consider it very a stunning bit of writing.

This book will never rest easily on my favorites shelf, the really powerful ones never do. This one will sit in the back and be brought out to show someone just how effective a little eBook story can be. I myself recall being this incredibly young, of walking in and finding a man I had grown to love in bed with another. I still remember the chaos of that moment very clearly as if it happened yesterday. These characters and their reactions in the story rang true till the very end.

This is not a fairytale and there is no Prince Charming, nor is there a damsel in distress. Not really, neither character can be seen as blameless or very smart. As Morpheus told us “Welcome to the Desert of the Real.”

Grade A writing, Grade A story telling, for a book that contains some very jagged bitter pills.

Tags: Aspen Mountain Press, Gay, Grade A, J. M. Snyder, Sci-fi Romance

RSS feeds the latest top tens

So Fictionwise is getting into RSS and here at Teddypig where we munch eBooks at all hours day and night we thought you would love to know what people are buying.

So just check >>>>> the right hand side for indicators as to who is selling like hotcakes from the top EPubs.

Tags: Loose-Id, Samhain Publishing

What I Am Reading ~ Dionne Galace: Boundless

Boundless by Annie Dean ~ Bonnie Dee ~ Dionne Galace
From: Liquid Silver

Seven Days – Annie Dean

Teresa intends to devote her life to the church, immaculate and untouched. Into her quiet life comes a beautiful devil sent to test her purity and her determination. She is silent prayers at midnight; he is the flash of gold in a gambler’s palm. She has known nothing but service and self-sacrifice. He has known nothing but centuries of carnal sin.

Neither know anything about love.

If she denies him, she condemns him to eternity in Hell. If she yields, she forfeits her soul. Who will emerge victorious? To find out, join Dev and Teresa for seven days of temptation.

The Straw Man – Bonnie Dee

A lonely woman imagines the perfect man and accidentally conjures him into being on All Hallows Eve. For a single night she has the lover of her dreams, but a night isn’t nearly enough. Can she find a way to turn her fantasy man back to flesh and blood?

Waking Kitty – Dionne Galace

Jack Ridley is an old-fashioned reporter. He doesn’t believe in anything unless there’s a ton of evidence to back it up and even then, he may still have a question or two hundred for it. Until he meets Kitty Jones and falls like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, Jack can’t seem to care that the ducks in a nearby park are turning pink or giant statues of naked men are appearing out of nowhere in the middle of downtown Chicago traffic.

Pink-haired Kitty Jones is beautiful, flirtatious, and seemingly happy-go-lucky. Under the cheerful, self-assured façade, however, she is slowly falling apart. Not only does she suffer from blackouts and wakes up unable to recall where she is or how she got there, she seems to be seeing dragons … everywhere. The only person she can turn to now is Jack Ridley, a tough-as-nails reporter who seems to have a few secrets of his own.

Tags: Annie Dean, Bonnie Dee, Dionne Galace, Fantasy Romance, Liquid Silver, Straight

What I Am Reading ~ J.C. Wilder: Retribution

Retribution ~ Shadow Dwellers Book 2 by J.C. Wilder
From: Ellora’s Cave

After years of torment, Jennifer Beaumont found a lover who should’ve lasted an eternity. Instead she was forced to walk away, to betray her very heart in order to keep her love safe from her vengeful master, the vampire Mikhail. Brokenhearted, Jen struggles to rebuild her life and the unthinkable happens, throwing her back into the arms of the man she loved and betrayed.

Conor MacNaughten has been alive for nine centuries and he’s seduced thousands of women, but none captivated him as much as Jennifer—the one woman able to resist his sexual advances, the only woman he’s ever loved. But her beautiful face hid a black heart and she cast him aside for another. Now, years later, a friend’s life is on the line and Valentin asks him to work with the one woman he loathes in order to save another.

The game begins with a kidnapping, bringing together two people who can’t forgive or forget…

Tags: Ellora's Cave, J.C. Wilder, Straight, Vampire Romance

Wild Rose Press: A Suggestion

Wild Rose Press

After this past week I have noted more and more mentions of a ePublisher called Wild Rose Press that seems to be attracting the stranded Triskelion, Mardi Gras, Silk Vault crews. Like some attorney handing out his card as the ambulance arrives. Being that I am ever so inquisitive I Googled up their site and decided to take a look.

Now I completely understand the need to stand out in a crowd. I honestly feel that ePublishers have to provide something unique and different in order to attract new readers. However, I never once thought to myself… “You know what? Those tired old categories like Regency Romance and Western Romance and Gay/Lesbian Romance. Well, They just get in the way of my eBook buying pleasure.” Never once have I considered the removal of such designators a potential benefit or a strong selling point.

My bad!

I must say I was surprised to find such clear and concise categories being used as Last Rose Of Summer and Champagne Rose and Cactus Rose. What do they mean? You have to ask? Don’t you see what they stand for? Well, the best I can tell Cactus Rose is supposed to be Western Historical Romances while Yellow Rose is supposed to be Contemporary Western Romances and Champagne Rose is supposed to be Alcohol Fueled Orgies… no no that looks like Contemporary Romances.

Now hey, it’s not my place to spoil anybody’s fun and if this is how you sell books then I say more flower power to you. I just think you have not taken this idea as far as it could go. I would have done something that reflects our childhood, yes, our sense of wonder, our sense of exploration. Something colorful and yet easily recognizable. Something warm and fuzzy that every man, woman, and child on this planet remembers to this very day. No, not Paris Hilton’s gaping hole!

Here is my solution.

Yes, My Little Pony is known and loved the world over. Hey, these cute color coded beasts are just waiting for someone to use them as a voice for the new generation of Romance Readers.

Triple Treat would do dandy for your Menage Category.
Twinkle Twirl Is ready to take a bite out of the Bondage/Capture Category.
Sweet Breeze would show her oral talents off in the Contemporary Category.
Cherry Blossom is chomping at the bit to do your Historical TSTL Virgin Widow Section proud.
Butterscotch is all set to find out what is under those manly Kilts in Scottish Time Travel Romance.
Cupcake is already there, her ass in the air, showing how she can pack some fudge for the Gay Romance Category.

Don’t let My Little Pony fade into oblivion. Give them the new life they deserve selling Romance in a whole new way.

Tags: The Wild Rose Press

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