Z.A. Maxfield

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Mea Culpa

October 3, 2010 by Z.A. Maxfield

Oh, my word. Sometimes things don’t go exactly as planned. One of those things has been the release of Vigil, which has been a long time coming — since it took me nearly forever to write — and a long time in process…

The release was planned for the end of summer, August or September and here it is October, and I can only say that I’m so sorry for the delay. It’s in final proofing now, and I can only hope it’s worth the wait.

Did I mention I find sequels difficult?

It’s possibly the most daunting thing in my world, second only to funding four college educations in a space of five years, (I’ll have four in college at once, thank you very much… What the hell was I THINKING?) I mean, I love books with sequels but I don’t always love the sequel… So the pressure is on, we’re down to the wire, it is coming, I PROMISE.

I’m going to be posting a snippet here and you’ll be the first I let know when release day comes. In the meantime, let’s have not one but TWO contests shall we?

One: For a chance at an ebook copy of Vigil as soon as it comes out, send me a note at zamaxfield@yahoo.com and PLEASE put “VIGIL EBOOK CONTEST” in the subject line.

Second: For a chance at a signed print copy of Vigil, please send me the answer to this question: What is the name of the famous miniature portrait artist from book one, Notturno? Email your answer to this question to zamaxfield@yahoo.com and PLEASE put “VIGIL PRINT BOOK CONTEST” in the subject line.

Do not post your answer to the print book contest question as a reply, thanks. 😀

I’ll be closing the contest the moment I’m informed that Vigil has been released in ebook format, (print format always takes a bit longer) I’ll try to keep folks updated but get your emails and answers in ASAP!

Here’s the book cover. (YUM)

Once inside the taxi, Adin faced Donte. “Let me look at you at least. Are you well?”

The expression on Donte’s face softened. “You are positively the silliest man. Of course I’m well.”

“Did you get a lot of brooding done while I was gone?” Adin teased. “How’s your chair, the one with the leather upholstery? Did you sit by the fire and doodle pictures of bats with little heart shaped eyes? I did.”

“I am not in the mood to be mocked.”

Adin framed Donte’s face with his hands, running his thumbs over the bones of his cheeks and the arch of his brows. “Beloved, I mock you only as a last resort.” He leaned in and whispered in Donte’s ear, “Do you need me?”

Donte lowered his gaze. “I do. Always.”

“Feed,” Adin ordered. “I had Thai food for lunch before I met Harwiche. Let’s see if you can tell me what I ate.”

Donte looked at the driver. “We could wait—”

“I’m sure you can make him believe he dropped Italian nuns off at the Louvre. Now, come to me.” Adin’s voice roughened. “Maybe I need you, lover.”

Donte allowed Adin to draw him in. In the end neither of them could fight the attraction they felt. Adin’s heart quickened as Donte pressed his lips to the pulse in his neck and a terrible excitement stole over him when he felt Donte’s teeth tease the skin there. Donte could tear his throat out with little more than the effort it would take Adin to place a chaste kiss on someone’s nose, but maybe that was part of the thrill.

“I wish you didn’t like this so much, caro,” Donte murmured. “I worry that you’ll be indiscriminate.”

Adin slapped both his hands to Donte’s face and held him away. “You don’t mean that.” Fury brought a high color to his cheeks. “I am no one’s cheap eats.”

Donte’s eyes searched him for any sign of duplicity and Adin wanted to scream. “Promise me? Santos—”

“Santos closed my wound without permission from me,” Adin growled. “I will never willingly be with anyone else, in any way, Donte as long as you and I… I don’t know what I have to do to prove myself to you…”

Donte struck, his teeth sliding into Adin’s neck like ice picks, quick and sure. Adin felt the sudden surge of hot lightning throughout his body that began as searing pain, but brought him almost instantly to an equal ecstasy.

“Donte.” Donte had to know that feeding brought Adin a release that was both profoundly sexual and emotionally gratifying. “Don’t you know how I feel? Don’t you understand what it means to me to nourish you this way?”

Donte used his tongue to soothe away the pain and Adin breathed in deeply, committing to memory the ambiance of Paris as it mingled in his mind with Donte’s own deeply masculine scent.

“Ah, lover.”

“Più amato.” Donte nuzzled him as Adin’s head swam. It wasn’t unusual for him to get light-headed after Donte fed. He’d grown to count on curling up in Donte’s arms afterwards and letting the lassitude take him even as Donte’s body warmed and quickened with borrowed life.

After a while Donte broke the silence. “Are you sure you want to go to Santos’s place?”

Adin opened his eyes. “Can you think of a logical reason why I shouldn’t?”

Donte glared at him.

The familiar argument dragged Adin down far more than the loss of blood. “If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead.”

“Who knows what he wants? What if he plans to kill you next week? He could kill you—”

“At any time. So can anything. Accept that or don’t follow me next time, Donte. I’m human; I will die. Accustom yourself or walk away.” Donte’s hold tightened around him and Adin felt unreasonably constricted. He pushed away from Donte who glared at him, hurt and angry. Adin caught the door handle and opened it to step out but Donte held him in place, his jaw tense.

“If I thought you meant that for one second I would have no trouble killing you myself.” He gave Adin a shove that sent him sprawling onto the pavement of the road in front of Santos’s home and slammed the door, even as Adin heard him tell the driver to go. The cab sped away, its taillights winking back as it braked and surged into the Parisian traffic.

“Bastard.” Adin got up and dusted himself off, then walked to the wrought iron gate of Santos’s impressive property. While he waited for someone to answer the intercom he muttered, “Time for a new Cosmo poll. Ten ways to tell if you’re boyfriend is The One…Question #1. Is he willing to throw you from a moving vehicle…?”

Filed Under: Books, New Release Tagged With: Vigil

Stirring Up Change

May 31, 2010 by Z.A. Maxfield

Things don’t always go as you plan, do they? MLR Press and I planned to have my foodie novella, Stirring Up Trouble, out by middle to late May and it doesn’t look like that is going to be possible. Since I always like to take my time in the figurative kitchen of my imagination, making sure that everything is Done To Perfection (Ooh, I smell a sequel) and served up piping hot for my readers it makes sense to wait till it’s fully cooked and ready to go…

Next month, I’m expecting the release of Jacob’s Ladder, which is the third in the St. Nacho’s series. So forgive a little shuffling, both are going to be delicious, but Jacob’s Ladder is going to be first, then expect Stirring Up Trouble in July.

In the meantime, let me tease you with the cover art for Stirring and a little bit of an excerpt, just as a tiny taste of what you can expect. Stirring Up Trouble should be added to anyone’s summer reading, it’s a light, delicate blend of humor and mayhem, served up with a heaping helping of love on a bed of family loyalty drizzled with hot sweaty work in the kitchen.

Toby broached the subject that was uppermost on his mind. “Right now, we’re playing restaurant with our friends. What you own is a diner, a family place that you can run as is, essentially, with no further need for someone like me.”

Evan nodded and kept on walking. “I know. And it’s working. You’ve begun building up a regular, loyal customer base for us.” Wryly he added, “Plus, your imaginative use of babies as a commodity has paid off like crazy.”

Toby grinned. “That’s common sense. You direct the bull by the horns, not the tail, my man-skirt wearing friend. Moms will go where their babies are happy.” Toby laughed. “You could keep going along like that indefinitely. People seem to like having children. You could fire up a toddler menu, a boxed lunch school alternative menu, Saturday and Sunday brunch for Mom’s Day Out. Camp Chocolate, a dessert-only service with champagne at midnight when there’s a full moon…”

Evan only shook his head. “You are fucking amazing.”

Toby’s ears heated when he heard it. He shrugged off Evan’s praise.

Evan caught his arm to stop him and pulled him to the side so that people could move around them on the busy sidewalk. “No, really. The very things that made Dom despise that place are the things you’re already cashing in on. You’ve done more for Le Potiron in a week than he did in months and months.”

“You probably didn’t get the memo but as chef/owner it’s your job to keep me on completely uneven ground. I’m supposed to feel like I have one foot on a banana peel and the other in the deep fryer at all times.”

Evan’s eyes softened and he trotted out his dimples. They flexed and preened on his face like traveling sideshow strongmen.

Oh, no fair.

“Maybe that’s not how I work. Maybe I carrot-and-stick my employees.”

Toby slipped a hand surreptitiously around Evan’s waist and up under his jacket, stroking the wiry man’s back through his shirt and finding lean, strong muscles there. “Can we just skip the carrot?” Toby asked without giving himself a chance to think. “Can we get to the stick already?”

Evan looked around and licked his lips. “Has anyone ever told you that you have impulse control issues?”

“Yeah, everyone.” Toby grabbed Evan’s hand and started heading back toward Le Potiron at a ground eating pace. “At least once.”

Filed Under: Books, New Release, Stirring Up Trouble Tagged With: Stirring Up Trouble

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