Welcome to Tuesday Teasers with ZA Maxfield! This week we have author JP Bowie joining us!

Fans of Teaser Tuesdays know what’s going to happen here:

I’ll post a snippet from one of JP’s books with the character names asterisked out.

Your mission is to guess which of JP’s books the excerpt comes from! Email your answer to William at William@IndiGoMarketingDesign.com. Please be sure to put “Teaser Tuesday” in the subject line! I’ll draw a random winner each week. It’s that simple! Come play along… If you guess correctly, you’ll be entered to win a prize!

Last week’s winner is Nenei V! You should be receiving an email shortly!

Here’s a little bit about JP Bowie:

J.P Bowie was born in Scotland and toured British theatres in numerous musical shows including Stephen Sondheim’s Company.

He emigrated to the States and worked in Las Vegas, Nevada for the magicians Siegfried and Roy as their Head of Wardrobe at the Mirage Hotel. J.P. has been writing gay and erotic fiction since 2008 and has penned 60 titles. He was one of the original organizers of GRL and still likes to lend a hand when needed.

He and his husband, Phil, are currently living in San Diego, Ca.

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HERE’s the snippet:

****** ****** couldn’t remember just how long he’d been standing on the opposite side of the street from the Rockin’ Bar’s entrance, but he was sure of one thing—his feet, hands and nose were way too cold, and if he didn’t grow a pair and get his ass inside, he’d most likely come down with some kind of flu-related ailment. It was an unseasonably chilly night in southern California, one he’d been unprepared for, venturing out earlier without his bomber jacket that would have shielded him from the bitter wind.

“God, but you’re a pussy,” he muttered. What could be so terrible? It was a gay bar—a place he’d wanted to visit ever since he’d arrived in LA, just to see what it was like. Maybe he’d meet someone nice, talk, share a kiss perhaps… Then who knows? There was always a chance it might lead to something more, something he’d been aching for, for a long time, things he so acutely knew were missing from his life. Warmth, companionship, a friend he could open up to, a chance to feel needed… Maybe even loved.

“Go on then…” He took a tentative step forward onto the concrete strip that separated him from what he so desperately wanted. The cracked surface of the narrow one-way street now seemed as wide as the Grand Canyon, and just as formidable to cross. But cross it he must, and when he reached the other side he’d simply push his way through the door and join the throng of people inside. What could be so difficult about that?

****** had been in Los Angeles for only four weeks, but his hometown of Ellingsworth, North Carolina, already seemed a distant place, both in miles and in his memories. He’d wanted to get out of Ellingsworth so badly he could almost taste the freedom it would bring him. When he’d finally cut himself loose from his so-called friends and family, it had been with such little regret that he still marveled at how easy it had been in the end.

After finally making the supreme effort to cross the street, he stood staring at the door of the Rockin’ Bar, closed against the chill of the night air. All he had to do was push it open and he could enter into the warmth he was sure awaited him on the other side. The decision was taken out of his hands when two young guys brushed past him, swung the door open, and one of them, giving ****** a sweet smile, held it for him.

“Th-thanks…” He grabbed the handle then followed them inside.

~ * ~ * ~

Thanks for joining us, JP!

If you think you know what book this excerpt came from, don’t forget to email William at William@IndiGoMarketingDesign.com with your guess!

Welcome to Tuesday Teasers with ZA Maxfield! This week we have author Bronwyn joining us!

Fans of Teaser Tuesdays know what’s going to happen here:

I’ll post a snippet from one of Bronwyn’s books with the character names asterisked out.

Your mission is to guess which of Bronwyn’s books the excerpt comes from! Email your answer to William at William@IndiGoMarketingDesign.com. Please be sure to put “Teaser Tuesday” in the subject line! I’ll draw a random winner each week. It’s that simple! Come play along… If you guess correctly, you’ll be entered to win a prize!

Last week’s winner is Nenei V! You should be receiving an email shortly!

Here’s a little bit about Bronwyn Heeley:

Bronwyn was always the wait until the movie comes out kinda girl. This was because reading wasn’t her strongest point. The only books she was able to read were Baby Sitter Club: Little Sister and Paul Jennings anthologies

Add a 2yr old and another on the way, she needed a hobby, which she found in reading. Picking up a book opened a whole new world to her, one she never thought she’d ever be able to enter.

You can find out more about Bronwyn on her blog, website, TSU, Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter, or Pinterest.

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HERE’s the snippet:

The most beautiful sight in the world stared back at **** as his breath caught at the view before him.

He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, couldn’t get his mind to process the reality of what was really happening, not with an awe-inspiring sight. Not when his eyes watered a gentle weep that didn’t quite escape his lids at such a spectacular vision.

Darkness outstretched his eyes capabilities, as colours swirled and turned, a solid form like a cloud up in the day sky. **** could tell it was distance that made the dance stand still, that if they’d got close it would be nothing more than junk shifting around them, but it didn’t take away from the sight, not for one minute.

Sparks tinged in the distance, flashing by so fast he couldn’t follow – a shooting star that was waiting to be caught, if only he had the reflexes. He would have wished if he could think of anything but soaking in this one moment, because he knew it would end. He knew something would come and take him away from the fantasy he was clearly caught in, but he wasn’t going to rush it. It wasn’t like there was anything left outside of this he wanted to revisit. No family or friends that he’d be lost without.

Hell, he was sure his parents would rest easier if he never dirtied their doorstep, or try and convert their perfect son, his younger brother, with his talk of space and aliens that both terrified **** and soothed.

They hadn’t wanted him back; they’d have wished him dead at the hands of his abductors, over what they got back. At least, that’s what he’d been feeling, but the doctors had told him that it was natural, that feeling of abandonment. They’d locked him up, and left him there, and he was allowed to be angry at that, he was allowed to feel hurt.

Yet, it hadn’t really been like that, had it. He’d been a danger to himself and others around him, he needed help that his parents couldn’t give him, no matter how hard they had tried. They had visited, four times a week, moved when doctors had recommended a different facility that had world-renowned doctors who could help him, who would make him be able to get back into the world.

So where’d the abandonment come from? It hadn’t been from them, he’d never felt anything but love from them. Love and sadness as he collapsed deeper and deeper into his delusions. Even as he thought bad things about them—even at his worst, his subconscious would always pipe up and tell him what he needed to hear, the reality of the world around him and the love he had gotten from his parents, that he still had, was real and untainted.

Yet, the fact that he still felt as if something major was missing from him grew stronger and stronger as the years dragged on. It had gotten to the point, or was getting to the point that he’d end himself soon. Not being able to deal with the loss and grief that were eating him up and making him this pathetic crazed version of a man he’d never been allowed to grow to be.

Maybe that’s what he was experiencing now? Maybe this was life after death.

~ * ~ * ~

Thanks for joining us, Bronwyn!

If you think you know what book this excerpt came from, don’t forget to email William at William@IndiGoMarketingDesign.com with your guess!

Once again it’s time for the weekly Sunday Brunch with ZA Maxfield! This week, we have one awesome friend joining us! Please welcome P.D. Singer!

This week’s question is: “What advice would you give your 13-year-old self, if you could?“

***BIG NEWS*** From now on, instead of offering a weekly prize, ZAM will be giving out a $20.00 Amazon gift card so readers can use it for the ebook (or other Amazon purchase) of their choice once a month to anyone who has commented on her blog that month. All you have to do is comment below for your chance to win!

Last month’s winner is Carissa! Congrats! You should be receiving an email from me shortly.

Without further ado, let’s hear from P.D.!

Thirteen. A teenager, standing woman tall and wracked with desires hard to articulate. Wanting to get out into the world and shake it ‘til it rattled, and then run back into a haven decorated with plush animals. It’s a rugged time.

A time for leaning to think critically, and learning to speak both loudly enough to be heard and softly enough to be listened to. It’s a balance. You’ll find it.

So many things come easily: you swallow the classics and whip through the math. You do so many things well, or well enough. But the only that makes you work for your success are physical, and then only when you have someone to chase, or a group to live up to, a reward of some sort, and don’t have to work too hard.

What I want to tell you from across the years is to master your body, so that crossing a log fallen across the stream is a minor concern, not potential disaster. So that running a couple of miles is actually preferable to an hour spent in an Iron Maiden.

This is going to take practice. Developing stamina and balance doesn’t happen overnight. Sweating is okay. It’s very nice that you can march all the hours a drum corps practices, but it’s not actually enough to mark time and swing the flag. Get out there and run. Climb the trees and stand on your head. Dance and do gymnastics. Don’t just bury your nose in another book.

Yes, it will take practice.  Yes, you risked getting laughed at. You tried once and gave up back then, when your fledgling backbend drew snickers for thrusting your overlarge bust into the air. You let falling on the ice drive you away from the rink where the girls (who’d had lessons since they were six) skated circles around your splatted form and giggled without helping you up.

Yeah, they were brats, but the one that gave them power to stop you—was you.

Don’t give them that power. Take your own.

Don’t let them keep you from mastering your body now. You’re going to wear this flesh for a lifetime.

*****

These are ideas that echo through my latest novel, A New Man. Chad was a swimmer who switched to fencing when his body embarrassed him. A fully clothed and covered activity suited him better for a lot of reasons, not least because everyone around him was covered too. He practiced hard enough to gain a scholarship in the sport, in spite of his body actively working against him and derision from others, embodied in the secondary character of Andre.

Those long ago giggles echoed when I wrote the interactions between Chad and Andre. Time, perspective, and a defined plot drove those scenes. Some of them go very badly for Chad. But not all of them.

Did I rewrite some history when I wrote Chad’s fencing scenes? A little. More that I made Chad take the advice I would have given to my thirteen year old self. Chad’s better than I was at taking his own power.

Watch out, Andre.

Buy Links for A New Man: Dreamspinner Press

And here’s a little blurb/teaser:

Senior year of college is for studying, partying, and having fun before getting serious about life. Instead, Chad’s days are filled with headaches and exhaustion, and his fencing skills are getting worse with practice, not better. Then there’s his nonexistent love life, full of girls he’s shunted to the friend zone. Is he asexual? Gay?

Grad student Warren Douglas could be out clubbing, but his roommate is better company, even without kisses. He’s torn up watching Chad suffer, gobbling ibuprofen and coming home early on Friday nights. If Chad weren’t straight, Warren would keep him up past midnight. They’re great as friends. Benefits might answer Chad’s questions.

A brief encounter with lab rats reveals Chad’s illness—he needs surgery, STAT, and can’t rely on his dysfunctional parents for medical decisions. Warren’s both trustworthy and likely to get overruled—unless they’re married. “You can throw me back later,” Warren says, and he may throw himself back after his husband turns out moody and hard to get along with, no matter how much fun his new sex drive is. Surgery turns Chad into a new man, all right…

…but Warren fell in love with the old one.
~ * ~ * ~

Thank you to  P.D. Singer for joining us this week!

Welcome to Tuesday Teasers with ZA Maxfield! This week we have author Tara Lain joining us!

Fans of Teaser Tuesdays know what’s going to happen here:

I’ll post a snippet from one of Tara’s books with the character names asterisked out.

Your mission is to guess which of Tara’s books the excerpt comes from! Email your answer to William at AuthorAssistants (at) gmail DOT com. Please be sure to put “Teaser Tuesday” in the subject line! I’ll draw a random winner each week. It’s that simple! Come play along… If you guess correctly, you’ll be entered to win a prize!

Last week’s winner is Stella Holt! You should be receiving an email shortly!

Here’s a little bit about Tara Lain:

Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 25. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft.  She lives with her soul-mate husband and her soul-mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books.  Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!

You can find out more about Tara on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, her blog, or her website.

HERE’s the snippet:

“*****, I don’t think this is a good idea. Why don’t you drop me off and go on your own?”

God. He should stick his head in a bucket and drown. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about how awful it would be for you to be with all these dumb jocks.”

****** put his hand on *****’s shoulder. “No. I mean you can’t put your precious future in my hands. What if they all know I’m a guy? You’ll be wrecked. You’ll lose your job and—” He waved a hand. “—everything.”

Sadly, he told the truth. “No one will know. My sister isn’t as feminine as you look tonight.”

“To you.”

“No, to anyone. Plus they won’t be looking for you to be anything but female, and people see what they expect.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’d much rather it was just you and me going out to dinner, but they know I have a date, and everyone expects me to bring you.”

“Wow.”

“I’m so sorry.”

****** took deep breaths. He gave a long, slow exhale. “Okay, since we’re doing this, prepare me. Who will I be meeting?”

“***** ******** is the coach. It’s his house. I doubt the team owner will be there, although he could. Name’s *******, and he’s a total conservative.”

“Clearly the best person to introduce to your drag queen boyfriend.”

***** laughed, but he really liked that word, boyfriend. “One other significant player is ******** *******. He plays on the team with me, and it’s his sister you saw in that photograph. He’ll be looking to figure out why I want you instead of his sister.”

“Did you explain I have a dick?”

“I missed that part of the briefing.”

****** placed his well-manicured hand on *****’s arm. “I’ll do my best, *****.”

“I know.” But, man, was he praying that ******’s best was good enough.

Another fifteen minutes and they were cruising up a winding road in the Hollywood Hills. Unlike some of the other wealthy areas of LA, the houses on these streets generally boasted the best of modern architecture. A true California style instead of something some rich guy dragged back from Italy, like you saw in big sections of the southland. ***** slowed and looked for an address.

“Pretty houses.”

“Yeah. There. That’s where we’re going.” A glass and wood house on a rise was all lit up. As they got closer, they saw a sign that read Valet stop here.

***** pulled over, and a guy about his age opened the door. “Good evening, sir. You here for the ******** party?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll take the car. Just keep this ticket.”

***** slid out and started around for ******, but the valet beat him to it. He did get to see the guy’s eyes widen as one of those long legs in a black stiletto heel stepped out.

The kid’s voice sounded a little breathy. “Good evening, ma’am. I hope you enjoy the party.”

******—or he should say ******—offered a hand like the queen of fucking Sheba, and the valet helped him out until he stood in his high shoes, towering over the guy. “Thank you.”

He, uh she—Jesus, he’d never had this much trouble with pronouns in his life. Names weren’t much better. But he needed to get used to calling her ****** again quick.

****** walked around the car, and ***** met him—shit, pronouns again—with an arm. Feeling that strong, lithe bicep slide against his reminded him again how not a girl this ****** was. He leaned in close. “Man, you’re something special.”

****** looked at him with that direct gaze. “You’re pretty damned great yourself. You in that sweater could be packaged and sold in place of Viagra.”

***** laughed. “This old thing?” He’d only spent an hour running out to a store to buy the white silk sweater. He’d picked it because the sales guy said it clung in all the right places and, since the man seemed to be sporting an erection while saying it, ***** figured it was getting the response he wanted.

“I’ll do my best to carry this off for you.”

“Thank you. I know.” All the way up the walkway, the butterflies in his stomach warred with the throb in his cock.

~ * ~ * ~

Thanks for joining us, Tara!

If you think you know what book this excerpt came from, don’t forget to email William at AuthorAssistants (at) gmail DOT com with your guess!