Released March 29, 2013 by Dreamspinner Press, revised and greatly expanded (by 40,000 words) from the free novella published last summer.

Cover, Chateau d’Eternité

Blurb:

When Russ Peterson accepts an invitation to an all-expense-paid vacation at a castle in southern France, he doesn’t expect to learn he has the ability to travel through time. For a historian, it’s a dream come true, offering the chance to find answers to the mysteries of the past. But it’s not without risks—to Russ and to the world as he knows it.

After a few short supervised visits, Russ still hasn’t made up his mind about his newfound abilities. Then, on his first extended trip, he meets Quentus Maximus, second in command to the Legate of Nemausus. While learning firsthand about the realities of life in Roman Gaul, Russ is shocked by his reaction to Quentus’s dominant nature. After a week with Quentus, Russ’s vacation is up, and he realizes he wants a chance to see if their relationship can flourish.

Arranging a year-long sabbatical from work to give time to make the decision is easy. Figuring out if he can live with Quentus’s dominant nature long-term, and finding a way to establish a life for himself in Roman Gaul, is an entirely different matter.

Excerpt:

“Ah, Monsieur Peterson,” Bernard said, coming into the foyer from somewhere else on the ground floor. “I didn’t expect you back downstairs so quickly. Our guests often take a little longer to settle in to the ambiance here at the château.”

“It certainly is quite atmospheric,” Russ agreed, “but fascinating. The attention to detail is astounding. You must have some incredible decorators to create such elaborate reproductions.”

Bernard smiled. “As you say. Shall we retire to the parlor? It gets chilly here in the front hall in the evenings. The fire will be most welcome.”

Russ nodded and followed Bernard into the parlor, another amazingly appointed room, this time in the Baroque style. The sideboards were heavily gilded with ebony veneer and beautifully lacquered scenes. The armchairs near the fire were similarly carved and gilded, the brocade on the cushions catching and reflecting the light of the fire. “I feel like I’ve walked into a museum,” Russ said.

“Not quite,” Bernard replied. “What can I offer you? A glass of champagne? Some sherry or vermouth? Or perhaps a kir?”

“Um, whatever you’re having is fine,” Russ said. “I… I’m not a big drinker.”

“Then we’ll have kir,” Bernard said. “A sweeter flavor than champagne.”

Russ shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as Bernard prepared their drinks. He wanted to explore the room, but he didn’t want to seem rude. It struck him as equally rude to sit without being asked.

Bernard turned back around, glasses in hand. “Sit, sit,” he urged, herding Russ toward the fireplace. “We are not a museum. You should never hesitate to use our pieces for the purposes they were intended.”

Russ took one of the two chairs and the drink Bernard offered him. Bernard sat in the other chair and clinked his glass against Russ’s.

“To open minds and new adventures.”

“That sounds ominous,” Russ said, but he took a sip of his drink nonetheless. The light fruit flavor surprised him. He’d expected something harsher. “This is good. What is it called again?”

“A kir,” Bernard said. “Bourgogne Aligoté and crème de cassis. It’s a regional specialty of Burgundy, but one that is well appreciated all over l’Hexagone.”

Russ almost asked for a clarification of the last reference as well, but Bernard didn’t give him a chance. “You must be wondering what you’re doing here.”

“I’ll admit to a certain curiosity,” Russ said, fully conscious of the understatement.

“You’re here because your last round of medical tests at your physical indicated a genetic marker that is of particular interest to the denizens of château d’Eternité.”

“Denizens?” Russ repeated, nerves jangling at the thought of some stranger having access to his medical records. He forced himself not to freak out yet, though. He would hear Bernard out before he decided if a meltdown was in order. “I haven’t seen anyone but you.”

“I am the only resident at the moment,” Bernard admitted, “but there are about twenty people who live here for some portion of the year. The rest of the year, they are traveling.”

“Traveling where?” Russ asked. “Look, I don’t know what this is about, but stop talking in circles and just tell me. Am I sick?”

“You aren’t sick at all, Russ. You’re gifted, and to answer your question about where, the answer is anywhere, indeed anywhen they want.”

Russ rolled his eyes. “Anywhen? That’s not even a word, and you’re implying… what? That they can travel through time?” The very thought was so ludicrous he felt stupid even saying it.

“Yes,” Bernard said, “that’s what I’m implying, and no, I don’t expect you to believe it. Not yet, anyway. No one does when they first come here. I didn’t believe it when I first came here forty years ago either. Now I’m the guardian of the château and its secrets.”

Russ rose from the chair, pacing in agitation as he ran one hand through his hair. Time travel. If he understood correctly, the affable old man sitting next to the fire with a perfectly sanguine look on his face was telling Russ people could travel through time, that he could travel through time. “How? How is this possible?”

“That is a question for the ages,” Bernard said, “but if you sit down, I will tell you what I do know. It won’t answer all your questions, because some of them have no answers, but perhaps it will answer some of them.”

Russ returned slowly to his seat, trying to open his mind to the possibilities of whatever Bernard would say. His ability to look beyond the obvious made him an asset at the university history department as he pored over old records, seeing not just what was there but what was missing. He needed to turn that same sharp mind to this new problem. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“As I said, you have a genetic abnormality that was identified in your last routine medical exam,” Bernard said. “That mutation allows you the ability to move through time. Before you ask, no, it appears not to be an inherited trait. We know of no instances of two people in the same family having the ability. It appears to be a completely random mutation. Once the mutation occurs, the ability will manifest of its own accord on the person’s thirty-fifth birthday or, if it happens after that age, on their next birthday—if they haven’t already learned about the ability, and how to control it, before then. And no, we don’t know what it is about that age, or birthdays in general, that triggers the ability, but we have seen it happen consistently.”

“Okay,” Russ said slowly. “Assuming this is all true, assuming I believe you managed to get hold of my medical records despite all the layers of privacy surrounding them these days, that still doesn’t tell me why I’m here. Why not just let it happen in three years when I turn thirty-five? Why go to the expense of maintaining this place and bringing me over and all the rest?”

“Because the dangers of time travel are not inconsiderable,” Bernard said with a Gallic shrug. “Not only to yourself, but also to the stream of history and to life as we know it. Dangerous enough that the greater good supersedes those layers of privacy you mentioned. We can trace a number of catastrophic events in history to someone traveling back unprepared and leaving behind absolute chaos. The assassination of Julius Caesar and the ensuing war, the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand that triggered World War I, the sacking of Rome that led to the Dark Ages… there are others, but you begin to see the problem.”

“The world would be a completely different place if those things hadn’t happened,” Russ said, his mind racing as he considered all that might have happened and not happened if the knowledge held within the Roman Empire had not been forgotten, if World War I had not reforged the face of Europe, if…. “God, the possibilities!”

“Indeed,” Bernard said. “It is possible to shift through time without setting off such dire consequences, with training, care, and practice, but you can see why we might not want people discovering the ability without assistance. Once we identify them, we bring them here to teach them how to use their abilities before they manifest naturally.”

“Assuming I believe the rest of it, then, yes, I can see that,” Russ said. “So I’m here for two weeks of training?”

“Essentially, yes,” Bernard replied, “but you are still skeptical. Perhaps a demonstration?”

“A harmless one?” Russ asked.

“I do my best to make all my time travel harmless,” Bernard replied with a wry smile. He extended his hand.

Russ shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hoping his nerves weren’t as obvious in his movements as they were in the racing of his pulse, and accepted Bernard’s hand.

He couldn’t have said what he was expecting since he’d never actually thought about what it would feel like to travel through time, but he would have expected something, some physical sensation of displacement, disorientation, movement… something.

Instead, everything got blurry for a moment, and when it came back into focus, they were somewhere else. Russ had no idea where, but the elaborate baroque furniture was gone, replaced by simple, almost rustic pieces, and only a few. A bed with a mattress over a rope frame, a plain chest of drawers with wooden handles, and a single, straight-backed chair with a wooden seat and no cushion were the full contents of the room.

“Where are we?”

Bernard didn’t answer, gesturing toward the small, single-paned window on one wall. Russ went to the glass and peered out, but the quality was so poor he could barely make out the shapes of anything outside. It took him a minute to figure out the unfamiliar catch on the casement, but once he got it open and stuck his head out, the scene in front of him stole his breath.

He had never been to Versailles, but he had seen enough pictures to recognize it, except that he’d never seen it like this, with one wing still under construction—construction, not renovation—and the grounds only partially planted, with workers digging beds next to those other men were planting.

The men had horses and carts, shovels and picks, but not a single mechanical tool in sight. No electric wires, no tractors or backhoes—just saws and axes, shovels and the strength of their backs to carve out the gardens, levers and pulleys to lift the heavy stones, and mortar and trowel to fit them in place.

Russ pulled his head back in and sat down hard on the chair. “We’re in Versailles, probably in the 1680s because they’re still working on the gardens, and Le Notre died in 1700.”

“Impressive,” Bernard said. “You do know your history. It is, in point of fact, 1678. Jules Hardouin-Mansart is in the middle of adding the second story and the north and south wings. It will take several more years before everything is truly completed, but already Versailles is the crown jewel of the French royal palaces.”

“And we are in…?”

“The servants’ quarters,” Bernard said. “Shall we return to the château d’Eternité? I imagine you have questions.”

Russ wanted to protest leaving so soon, but they were hardly dressed to go exploring. He nodded and held out his hand. As Bernard took it, the door behind them opened and a man walked in.

The scene blurred out before Russ could speak.

When it cleared again, they were back in the parlor of the château d’Eternité. “That man,” Russ said. “He saw us. Is that going to cause a problem?”

Bernard chuckled. “Why do you think I chose that room to take you to, still in modern dress and totally unprepared for what you might see? That is Gilles. He works at Versailles in the kitchens when he is not wandering through time looking for more interesting adventures.”

“He’s one of us?”

“You are taking this better than most,” Bernard said, returning to his seat. “Yes, he is one of us and has given me permission to use his room during the day while he is working.”

“So explain this to me,” Russ said, sitting down again as well. “I can travel through time, or I can if you help me, anyway, but you said there were dangers, so there must be rules, or guidelines, at least.”

“There are,” Bernard said. “Would you care for another kir? Dinner will be served in an hour, and there may be others joining us. We never know when others will return.”

Russ blinked a couple of times, trying to sort out everything in his head, but he quickly gave up. This wasn’t about sense. It simply was.

“Um, no, thank you,” he said when he realized Bernard was waiting for an answer. “I need to concentrate so I’ll remember everything you’re saying. I don’t want to mess up later.”

“You don’t mind if I do?” Bernard asked. “Traveling is more exhausting than it used to be, and I find a little glass of something restorative upon my return makes quite the difference.”

“Of course,” Russ said.

Bernard refilled his glass and returned. “So, then, the rules, as you called them. The most important one, the one that you must not violate under any circumstances, is that you must not try to change history, your own or anyone else’s. The repercussions of doing so could be cataclysmic.”

“Isn’t my simple presence in the past enough to change it?” Russ asked. “If I wasn’t there before but am there now, doesn’t that change it by definition?”

“Yes, but there are changes and then there are changes. If you go to the past and do your best to fit in, to blend in, any changes your presence generates will be small ones, the ripples caused by a raindrop on a large lake, but if you go to the past with the intention of, for example, assassinating Hitler before he can rise to power, the changes you cause will be like a storm on the ocean, so destructive and far-reaching that you might not even have a present to come home to. For better and for worse, Hitler’s rise to power shaped the world as we know it today. Changing that would so change the present that you might not be able to get home. Indeed you might not exist anymore. It is a risk we will not take.”

Russ nodded. “I understand the difference. No messing with the history books.”

“Secondly, you must not return to a time in your own lifetime. Neither you nor your past self will survive that confluence. The universe knows there should only be one of you during the past thirty-two years. If you create a situation where there are two of you, something will happen to alleviate that overlap, and that will change your history irreparably as well.”

“You know this?” Russ asked.

Bernard nodded. “It has been part of our lore as far back as I have been able to trace, but twice in recent years, people have disregarded the rule and not returned. When I checked later, I found no records of the person beyond the date to which they returned and no trace of either body.”

Russ shuddered. His life hadn’t been all a bed of roses, but he couldn’t think of anything worth taking that risk to change. He hoped the people who’d disregarded the rule had gotten what they hoped for out of their sacrifices.

“Anything else?”

“The amount of time you spend in the past is the amount of time that will have elapsed here when you return to the present,” Bernard said. “If you are gone for five minutes, like when we went to Versailles, chances are no one will even notice, but if you go for a week or a month or more, be prepared to explain your absence when you return, or prepare for it before you leave, so no one will worry about unanswered e-mails, unreturned phone calls, absences from work. Time as a whole is fluid. Your timeline is not.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Russ said. “If I can choose a time in the past to go to, why can’t I choose a time in the present to return to?”

Bernard shrugged. “Because you can’t. Because none of us have ever been able to do that, even when we have tried to do so deliberately. You can move from one point in the past to another point in the past, but your return home will always take you to that amount of time after your departure, no matter how specifically you attempt to control it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Bernard replied.

Laughter in the hall interrupted them.

“And if you don’t believe me, you can ask our new guests at dinner,” Bernard suggested. “I believe that will be Chou and Linda returning. They wanted to see the crowning of the Jianwen Emperor.”

“So space is as fluid as time?” Russ asked. “I mean, we were here, then we were in Versailles. You’re talking about them going to China.”

“Only from here,” Bernard replied, “and no, I don’t know why, before you ask. If you are at home, you can travel back to that location at any point in the past, but only from here can you move to other locations. That is why we bring everyone here to begin. If you travel to the past and then move away from that place, you may not be able to return there safely. If you need to get out in a hurry, you need a safe place to come. You will always be able to come here as well, even if you left from home.”

“That doesn’t—”

“Make sense,” Bernard finished. “I didn’t say it made sense. I said it’s the way it is. We didn’t make up these rules. We have just learned to abide by them for our safety and the safety of the rest of the universe.”

The door to the parlor opened wider and two people came in, obviously of Chinese descent and still wearing the garb of fourteenth-century China. “Hallo, Bernard,” the man said. “Got a new one tonight?”

“Good evening, Chou,” Bernard said. “This is Russ. Perhaps you should change before dinner. Your clothes are still in your room.”

“But I like these clothes,” Chou replied.

“The wardrobes are open for anyone to borrow from, but we expect them to be returned when you’re done with them,” Bernard reminded him. “We will see you at dinner.”

“Wardrobes?” Russ asked when Chou left.

“You didn’t think we normally jump back in time in modern garb, did you?” Bernard asked. “We would be found out before we got ten feet. The château has an extensive collection of costumes from times and places all over the world, as authentic as we can make them from our own travels and the travels of those who came before us. We even have a tailor on staff to help with adjustments. You can, of course, buy garments when you return to the past if you intend to stay that long, but anything created in the past must remain in the past.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” Russ said with a shake of his head.

“Certainly not,” Bernard replied, “but we’ve taken as many precautions as we can for the situations we have thought of.”

“What about communication?” Russ asked. “I speak English, and I read a little of some European languages, but that’s not going to help if I’m trying to blend into ancient China.”

Bernard chuckled. “You have no idea you’ve been speaking French since you got here, do you?”

“What?”

“The mutation makes it possible for you to understand what you hear and reply in the appropriate idiom. It won’t keep you from saying something culturally inappropriate, but the words that come out of your mouth will be understandable to those around you.”

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Well, today I learned about one that’s even more diabolical. Mostly I use that word ironically, and while I don’t truly mean this outfit is satanic, I do have to wonder. Outwardly, Fantastic e-Books claims to be selling electronic copies of books from not only today’s hottest authors, but also schmucks like me as well as people who’ve been out of print for years (first tip off that something’s not right–publishers, which are barely getting the message about e-books now, certainly didn’t put out electronic copies of books published before I was born–1970 if any of you care).

As it turns out, they’re not actually selling pirated books. No, they’re using the promise of those books as bait to steal people’s PayPal information. I don’t like being used as bait. Of course, the so-called victims of this scam were trying to buy pirated copies of books, in my case, First Impressions, so my levels of sympathy for them are so vanishingly small as to be extra-dimensional.

Oh, and the servers for this outfit are hosted abroad so that cease and desist letter I sent? It’s as useful as tits on a tomcat.

So the moral of the story, kiddies, is that you can’t get something for (close to) nothing, and if someone tells you that you can, there’s a good chance s/he’s a grifter. I like that word, grifter. I just wanted to say it. Grifter.

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[n.b. for those who don't live in California: the focus in history/social studies in the 4th grade is on California history and features a huge project on the history of the era of the missions in Alta California. TKH scored Mission San Juan Capistrano, so my parents and I took him down there before the winter holiday, when among other things, I had lunch with a dear friend I don't see often enough.]

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Hi there, and welcome to the Next Big Thing blog hop. First a big thank you to Belinda McBride for inviting me to participate. This is different approach to blog hops, kind of a chain letter, if you will. Belinda tagged me, Amy Lane, ZA Maxfield, and E.M. Lynley. Go check them out. They are the cool.

Meanwhile I, in turn, have tagged Ellis Carrington, Edmond Manning, Michael Murphy, and Anne Tenino, for December 12. They’re a fun group and I can’t wait to see what they’ve got cooking.

My Next Big Thing is actually the release of the latest Cal Pac Crew novel, the third in the series.

Cover art, Burning It Down

What is the title of your book?

Burning It Down.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

For those of you who’ve read Tipping the Balance, you’ll recognize this scene. The Bayard House has been hit by arson, and Brad Sundstrom has been called out in the middle of the night to deal with it, since he was the project foreman.

The firefighter in charge of the effort there is Owen Douglas, and he made his interest in Brad very clear. Since Brad and his then-boyfriend were on the outs, Brad went for it, but Owen could tell Brad’s mind was on someone else. Owen pushed Brad to reconcile with the man who would eventually become his partner in business and in life, and all’s well that end’s well…for Brad.

But not for Owen, and that’s the odd thing about all this. I’m a freak about outlining and nowhere in any of my prewriting or outlining does that scene between Owen and Brad appear. One evening, however, an impulse seized me and I wrote twenty pages in an hour and there it was.

But even after I’d finished Tipping the Balance, Owen was clearly not done with me. I could’ve started work on either Owen’s story or on Stuart Cochrane’s story. Either one. Owen, always the hook-up and never the boyfriend, won out.

What genre does your book fall under?

m/m contemporary.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie?

I was a bit stumped by this, to be honest. In part, it’s the fact that I don’t go to movies or subscribe to any kind of television service, much to my son’s distress. I think part of it might be the photos I’ve used to visual my guys, because a good friend of mine who marinates in all things pop culture couldn’t really come up with anything either.

But I think Aaron Eckhart might make a nice Owen, once some red dye’s been applied to his hair.

Aaron Eckhart…could he play Owen Douglas?

As for Adam, his love interest, this may be a tougher challenge, if only because Adam’s so tall (6’5”). But I suppose these things are negotiable in casting. I’m thinking of Bradley James, who played King Arthur on the BBC series Merlin.

Bradley James…he’s got the hair for it, but is he really Adam Lennox?

What is a one-sentence synopsis of your book?

One sentence? Really?  I could barely come up with a short synopsis when I submitted the manuscript, and now I’m to come up with one sentence?

Owen and Adam can handle the stresses of new jobs, but can they survive the threat posed by Adam’s abusive ex?

Will your book be self published or represented by an agency?

Neither. Dreamspinner Press releases the book on December 7, 2012.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Burning It Down, like most of my novels, takes roughly six months from rough outlining to a manuscript that’s ready to submit. Based on the way I outline, my completed first draft is almost ready to submit.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre.

As a matter of policy, I don’t compare my books to those of other authors because that leads to jealousy. “Why’s that book selling better, when mine is so clearly superior in every way?” or “Well hell, if that’s what I’m competing against, why am I bothering to write?” Neither one’s healthy, and firefighter stories are a dime a dozen in m/m romance.

In terms of other books that feature a veterinarian, a firefighter, and a cat, I’ll say that Shae Conor’s novella En Fuego will be released by Dreamspinner on December 12, 2012.

I plan to read it as soon as possible because I want to see what Shae did with the same elements. She and I are both amused that two manuscripts with very similar plot elements were put on the publication calendar so close together. We may even promote our book together, so watch this space.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

This is the third book in a projected series of four; there are a certain number of stories I wanted to tell about the rowers in the CalPac world, or at least about this group of rowers. So Burning It Down is another step along the road toward completion.

What else about your book might interest the reader?

I must admit that the cat tends to steal the show.

And now, just because I’m feeling generous, here’s another teaser from Burning It Down:

“Like I texted you, he was assaulted this evening—”

“Where?”

“He was at home. Someone broke in and beat the crap out of him. Owen’s assailant knew what he was doing, too.”

“What do you mean?” Adam demanded, steering Mike over to chairs and forcing him down.

“Why’re hospital chairs always hard plastic? Just once, I want something comfortable,” Mike muttered.

“They’re hard plastic so they can be wiped with disinfectant after people bleed on them or cough tuberculosis all over them,” Adam said. “Keep talking.”

“Whoever he was, he re-broke Owen’s left leg. Went after it with a baseball bat, as a matter of fact,” Mike said. “That’s all I know, right now. Do you have his sister’s number? She should be notified.”

“Goddamn, he was finally making headway on rehabbing it after the last setback,” Adam muttered. “Yeah, I’ll call Avril, and thanks for letting me know about Owen. How much longer will he be in surgery?”

Mike shrugged. “Another hour or more, I guess, given what they’re dealing with.”

“Then I’d better call Avril.”

After Adam called her, he tried to get some sleep, but as Detective Cabot had pointed out, the chairs and comfort were not well acquainted. He thought about stretching out in his SUV, and he thought about offering the other front seat to the detective, but he wanted to be there when Owen got out of surgery, so plastic seats it was. He pulled his parka’s hood over his face to block out the harsh florescent lights, or try.

“Adam? Wake up, honey, it’s me.”

“Go away, Mom. I’m wearing my retainers.”

“Okay, that might’ve been funny when John Hughes wrote it, but you’ve got about five seconds to wake up before I pour my coffee down the neck of your sweater.”

Adam blinked a few times to clear his eyes. “Avril?”

“Yes. What the hell’s going on?”

“You’re here.” Adam struggled to sit up. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and then nudged Mike Cabot. “Detective? Wake up. Owen’s sister’s here.”

“Of course I’m here! You told me someone took a baseball bat to my brother!” Avril said shrilly.

“I didn’t tell you he was in critical condition or anything. It’s his leg, Avril. He’ll be fine.” Just what he needed, but that didn’t stop Adam from getting up to give her a hug.

“Eventually maybe,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest, “but again with the leg?”

“I know,” Adam sighed. “Believe me, I know.”

“So who’s watching the kids?” Adam asked.

“My oldest is old enough, and I let my best friend know what was up, so she’s on call. Hopefully I’ll be back in time for breakfast. Other than my kids, Owen’s all I’ve got in the world,” Avril said.

Adam made the appropriate introductions and they settled back into the waiting.

Fortunately for Avril, she didn’t have to wait very long, because while the estimate given to Detective Cabot was wildly off, the surgeons finally finished putting Owen’s leg back together—again—not long after her arrival.

A tired looking woman came out of the OR. “I’m Dr. Singh. Is one of you family?”

“I am,” Avril said.

Dr. Singh frowned. “Then who are the rest of you?”

“I’m the detective handling Mr. Douglas’s case,” Mike said.

“And I’m his boyfriend,” Adam said.

“Was this a bias crime?” Dr. Singh said.

Mike sighed. “No, at least not in the way you’re thinking. He wasn’t bashed because he’s gay.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Dr. Singh said, “but that doesn’t explain why he had a testicle clenched in one fist.”

 And don’t forget to check out  Ellis Carrington, Edmond Manning, Michael Murphy, and Anne Tenino on December 12. They’re some of my favorite people, not just as colleagues and writers but as friends.

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As you know from reading the blurb on the Coming Soon page–you have read it, haven’t you?–Owen is injured in the line of duty.

So here’s a visual idea of what he went through. That said, Owen’s was much, much worse, but this clip did give me the idea.

Fire Truck Collision

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One of the best parts of GayRomLit was debuting the cover of my forthcoming release, Burning It Down, the third installment in the CalPac Crew romances.. I begged and whined like an Irish Setter, so the publisher Elizabeth North and cover artist Paul Richmond relented. Maybe it was my argument that the con was almost exactly seven weeks before the release date, or maybe the just wanted to shut me up. Whatevs, I got my cover art. I think it’s my favorite one so far. Paul did a great job capturing my guys.

Cover art, Burning It Down

Here’s the blurb from the back of the book:

When newly promoted fire battalion chief Owen Douglas skips out on physical therapy after an on-the-job injury, his one-time hookup, Brad Sundstrom, bullies him into joining the adaptive rowing program at the Capital City Rowing Club. There, Owen meets Adam Lennox, a veterinarian and former rower who also works as a volunteer. Adam is new in town and eager to make friends, but the chemistry between him and Owen is blistering.

Despite Owen’s commitment issues, he wants more this time. He makes a move, and the friendship he shares with Adam turns into more. But Adam hasn’t left his past as far behind as he thought. When his abusive ex-boyfriend, Jordan Sanders, returns, Adam and Owen find themselves in grave danger. Jordan won’t let anything stop him from getting Adam back—not even a court order. Soon Adam has to choose between breaking up with Owen to save him from Jordan’s fury or risking both their lives to stay by Owen’s side.

Yep, Burning It Down tells Owen Douglas’s story. You remember him, of course you do. He’s the hot daddy fireman who tricked with Brad, the one who blew Brad in the still-smoldering Bayard House. Brad thought of Drew the whole time, and Owen could tell. Ring any bells? If not, it’s time to re-read Tipping the Balance.

Burning It Down is not yet on Dreamspinner’s Coming Soon page, or I’d give you a link. I’ll post it when it’s up, but the release date it December 7th. So unlike most of the time, I will actually be updating my blog as we get closer.

Oh, and what am I working on now, you ask? I’m 48k words into Settling the Score, which tells the story of Stuart and his relationship with Brad’s older brother, Philip…

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Nick and Morgan haven’t been around much, I’m sad to say. Morgan’s been busy working on a combined MA and teaching credential. Not that it’s the best time to go into education in California, but it’s what he wanted to do, and Morgan’s always been the sort to do as he pleases, as Nick well knows. Too many school districts in California are cutting back and firing teachers these days. Oddly enough, administrators seem secure in their jobs.

Fortunately for them both, Nick’s going into a field with plenty of growth potential. He’s currently doing a hospital-based internship in physical therapy. Unfortunately, since his entire class was looking for such hospital-based internships in the Sacramento area, he couldn’t get one locally, so he and Morgan are living apart. Nick’s not lonely, however. Besides keeping busy at work, he’s staying with Morgan’s parents in the Bay Area while he works in a hospital there.

Brad’s finally hitting his stride. There’s no nice way to put this, but he was kind of an asshole in Rocking The Boat, wasn’t he? He just hadn’t figured himself out. Once he did, he started to show maturity and a certain grace that made his friends welcome and appreciate him instead of hide the breakables. He’s still playful and boisterous, he just knows when to quit. Drew helps with that. The two of them, through much hard work, have made their remodeling business a real success.

Drew had a bit of a hard time when Brad not only helped out Owen, a man he hooked up with once (in Tipping the Balance), but brought him into the adaptive rowing program at the Capital City Rowing Club. Brad smoothed it over for his partner, and helped Owen, who’d been injured in the line of duty, work things through with his beau, veterinarian and rower Adam Lennox, who has some issue of his own. You can read their story in Burning It Down, available from Dreamspinner press sometime in December 2012. Yep, that’s the only teaser you get, at least for now.

Lastly, Stuart’s life has gotten interesting. Stuart was a year behind most of his friends from Rocking the Boat. He was younger, for one thing, but he also had to work to support himself. Sure, he had scholarships and grants that took care of most of CalPac’s tuition and living expenses, but they weren’t quite enough. Well, he’s finally graduated from California Pacific and found himself at a crossroads.

Guess who he found waiting for him at that crossroads? No, not Jonathan Poisonwood. They broke up, in part because Jonathan was a rich idiot who set Stuart’s teeth on edge. No, he found Philip Sundstrom. Brad may have been so far in the closet that he was the uncrowned king of Narnia, but Philip’s bi and has always known it; his flings with men have been short and sweet. It just wasn’t worth crossing their father, but now, thanks to Philip’s maneuvering and Randall Sundstrom’s own vicious actions (see Tipping the Balance), Randall’s not a factor anymore.

Stuart’s starting medical school soon, and has a burning prejudice against rich people, which is a problem, since Philip’s loaded and can’t keep his hands off Stuart. Philip’s also the only man who’s ever really “gotten” Stuart. Unfortunately for Stuart, he’s not looking for a commitment, having just been dumped by his long-term girlfriend. Check out Settling the Score, available from Dreamspinner sometime next summer, to see how these unlikely boyfriends face corporate machinations and lies, serious illness and a lack of personal understanding, and a fatal traffic accident.

So there we are, cherubs. I hope that’s enough to keep you coming back for more.

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Please welcome J.P Barnaby, a friend and the author of the well-received Little Boy Lostseries. Little Boy Lost is a coming of age story about two teenage boys—Brian McAllister and Jamie Mayfield—growing up gay in rural Alabama. The six book series chronicles their lives as they navigate through peers, parents, and porn, desperately searching for the perfect combination of circumstances in which they can be together. Through their journey, they find friends, pain, acceptance, loss, and most importantly, themselves.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=54_412

Reviews for Little Boy Lost

This is a compulsively readable book. I sat down with it the other day, intending just to skim it for this re-review, but within a few pages I was pulled completely into the story just like I was last year. Brian and Jamie are wonderful characters, beautifully drawn and realized. They experience the wonder and excitement of their first love, going through each step: a touch, a kiss, an embrace, and more. At the same time, they are terrified of what might happen to them should anyone find out about their relationship. They live in a very small town in Alabama where faggot jokes and homophobia are the norm. How do they reconcile their feelings for each other with the reality of the time and place in which they are living? – JesseWave

What this author does in ABANDONED is just amazing, it is a pure and honest kind of writing that bares the soul of a seventeen, going on eighteen year old. It offers the worst of circumstances in which various forms of love can ignite, nourish and inspire Brian on his journey. I never expected to experience such a strong connection to the person Brian is. I’m still amazed by it and savoring it every chance I get. ABADONED blew me away as J.P. Barnaby continues the story of memorable characters who just go for your heart. This is just about as good as it gets in the M/M genre! – Leontine’s Book Realm

First things first, what is a lexicon?

The first example of a lexicon that comes to mind, and honestly the best I’ve ever seen, is the Harry Potter Lexicon (http://www.hp-lexicon.org/). It details every character, every spell, every location, every bit of information that J. K. Rowling wrote into her amazing series. But, their lexicon went beyond that. It also includes all of the secret, beautiful, unpublished tidbits that were released through interviews or on her website. Literally everything you want to know about the series, you can find on that site. It’s so comprehensive that J. K. Rowling admitted that she sometimes used it while writing the later books to reference a detail or two.

Why is a lexicon important?

Little Boy Lost is a six book series that follows the same two boys. It’s not a series of spinoffs, though spinoffs certainly benefit from detail continuity. Brian and Jamie along with their friends, family, environments, and timeline have to flow seamlessly from one book to the next in order to keep the reader engaged. Key points in a character’s personality and appearance need to be reinforced so that the reader can keep six books full of characters straight. In the Harry Potter series, you would never confuse Neville Longbottom with Dean Thomas because the detailing on each character is so well done. If your book is going to continue into another, you need to have your facts at your fingertips.

The Little Boy Lost lexicon

The Little Boy Lost lexicon is kept hidden from the world on my laptop in Microsoft OneNote 2010. More important, it is also backed up to the hilt. As an IT professional, I understand the importance of keeping my computer backed up and my information safe. As an author, this is especially important for recordkeeping and legal purposes as well as keeping safe the thousands of hours I’ve invested in my work. I use Microsoft OneNote because I don’t have the time or patience to develop a website for it. OneNote is drag/drop, copy/paste, and web clip efficient. I can put in pictures, voice, video, or text. If I copy something from the internet, it automatically adds a reference to where I found it. The notebook/tab/page structure of the program is conducive to research, and it’s fully searchable.

As you can see from the image, the Little Boy Lost lexicon includes tabs for character information, an events timeline, ideas, and research that would pertain to the entire series and then a tab for each individual book with more detailed timelines, and other information that pertains only to that book (for example, Brian’s injuries in Abandoned which are referenced later in the series, but all of the medical research is in the tab for Abandoned). I have pictures of each character and a full biography, some of which is never used within the book, but it gives me a better sense of who the character is and how he will react in any given situation. I have a notebook like this for each book, each series that I work on.

I write in Microsoft Word, but I keep a copy of the original scene inside of OneNote to make things easier to find. I may not know what chapter something is in, but I can usually find it faster by looking at the scene titles. When I’m working on a book, I generally write out of chronological order, sketching out scenes as they come to me. I keep that outline, partial scenes, and sketched out ideas in OneNote as well. Again, some of the stuff may never be used, but when I need to reference it, the information is all in one place. My life has suddenly become very busy and I find that writing is easier when I’m hyper-organized.

With the notebooks for each book in my Windows Live account, I can access them anywhere from any device. There is a mobile app for my phone, a web interface, and of course the actual OneNote application on my computer. That is extremely helpful to me since I do most of my writing on my commute with limited internet access on my phone. It also helps when I get an idea and want to capture it—I can just pull out my phone, and add the appropriate notes to my notebook or put it in a note on my phone and copy it to OneNote later. I can also record voice notes on my phone and load them into OneNote.

Continuity is part of the editorial process with Dreamspinner Press who publishes the Little Boy Lost series, but they don’t live the series like I do. If I need to know what Micah’s brother’s name is for a spinoff book, I won’t have to try to remember which book I used it in so that I can find it. I introduced Micah in the third book and he has a strong presence through to book six. That information is one word within 255,000 words. Having it at my fingertip is far easier than an all out search.

About J. P. Barnaby

As a bisexual woman, J.P. is a proud member of the GLBT community both online and in her small town on the outskirts of Chicago. A member of Mensa, she is described as brilliant but troubled, sweet but introverted, and talented but deviant. She spends her days writing software and her nights writing erotica, which is, of course, far more interesting. The spare time that she carves out between her career and her novels is spent reading about the concept of love, which, like some of her characters, she has never quite figured out for herself.

Website: http://www.jpbarnaby.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/JPBarnaby

Facebook: http://www.Facebook.com/JPBarnaby

The Little Boy Lost blog tour continues June 25^th – July 24^th . Make sure to comment at each stop for more chances to win some really great prizes such as an entire series autographed to you by J. P. Barnaby. For additional entries – tweet about the tour including @JPBarnaby and #LittleBoyLost.

Tour Schedule: http://www.jpbarnaby.com/?p=637

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Anyway, I have chosen a winner for my new tagline, and it’s a line I actually wrote years ago for an early incarnation of First Impressions: ‘Don’t compare me to Oscar Wilde. Both our reputations will suffer.’ Like most of what I say, it’s layered, so rather than gloss it for you, I’ll leave it to you to figure out.

Since it occurred to me through a conversation with Amy Lane, she’s the lucky winner of a copy of First Impressions or something else of her choice. For those of you who’re wondering, yes, all m/m authors know each other. Actually we don’t, even though it seems like it some days, but Amy and I live about thirty miles from each other and so get together for lunch once in a while when we need to get out of our own heads.

Anyway, I’ve already tweaked the blog to reflect it and will get to work on swag for Gay Rom Lit in the next week or so. There are all kinds of interesting things out there.

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So what’s the deal? The deal is that I need a tagline, something sums up and marks off my brand, because like it or not, writing’s a business as much as it’s an artistic and creative pursuit.

I’ve got one, but it’s a little too close to ZA Maxfield’s, for one thing, and she really doesn’t deserve that. (Full disclosure: she’s a dear friend and all kinds of awesome, so there’s really no need to go tearing off in high dudgeon and email her, because all that’s likely to happen is that she’ll email me and we’ll both have a good laugh.) For another, it doesn’t really speak to my writing in particular.

Of all the elements of my writing, the dialogue in particular seems to be It, one of the things that people consistently like about my writing. Reviewers mention it, readers mention it. Even my husband’s noticed it. While I like to think I pour a great deal of effort—the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears—into all aspects of my writing, the dialogue jumps off the page.

I see my dialogue crisp, snappy, true-to-life, and above all witty. It’s what my friends sound like when we’re on fire, and it’s what my son, whom I refer to online as The Kid Himself, is coming to sound like, even thought he’s still several months shy of his ninth birthday. Yeah, there’s an almost-nine year old clone of me running around. The first time I heard him snark I must confess it brought a tear to my eye.

I’ll save how I write dialogue for various guest blog spots as I promote my work, in large part because I’ve never actually sat down to think about the nuts and bolts of it. I make sure my dialogue sounds to my own mind’s ear what people “really sound like,” because let’s not fool ourselves—we’ve all read stories that make us sit up and, with varying degrees of disgust, snap, “That is not what people sound like, certainly not when they’re talking about that.”

I try to raise a more lofty standard. I like to think I succeed, and I like to think many of you agree with me.

So with that in mind, my lovelies, I need you to help me come up with a tagline that keeps that knack for dialogue in mind. It’ll be use on my promo items like all the swag I’m going to have made up for Gay Rom Lit, my email signature, the subheading on this blog, things like that.

Guidelines:

It needs to emphasize the crisp, witty dialogue we all know and love in my writing.

It needs to be succinct, snappy, and short. Think advertising slogan rather than explanation.

Examples:

“Romance is funny, so you might as well laugh at it.” My current one. 1) it doesn’t play off my crisp dialogue. 2) It’s too close to ZAM’s.

“Words of affection wielded with wit.” I can’t say I’m a fan of this due to the alliteration, but this is one example that DSP’s publicity maven and I came up with.

What’s in it for you?

If I choose yours, or if yours inspires me to come up with one I like better, you’ll win a copy of First Impressions or something from my backlist. Or if you’re willing to wait, a copy of Burning It Down (CalPac #3) when it’s released in December.

Or a swag bag full of GayRomLit goodies. I can’t tell you what’ll be in it, because I haven’t ordered anything yet since I’m waiting for my new tag line.

Deadline:

I don’t suppose I have a hard and fast date in mind. As soon as I have one I like, I’ll post it here, tweet it, etc. I don’t want to wait too long, as I’d like to get to ordering all that swag, even though Gay Rom Lit isn’t until October.

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