1)
Has someone been instrumental in inspiring you as a writer? Josh Lanyon. I admire
his writing voice and productivity. I’d love to be as good as he is some day.
2) What is the hardest part of writing your books? Getting quiet time alone to write. I hate interruptions, as I’m the sort of writer that has to get in the zone and stay immersed. When I’m constantly interrupted, the writing goes poorly.
3) Where do you research for your books? Mostly online, and site visits if necessary. I try to restrict setting to places I’ve been, or to places where I can access someone who has lived/worked there. I also use a component of “write what you know” which helps a lot.
4) Who are your books published with? Loose Id, MLR Press, Redhot Publishing.
5) What do you think makes a good story? Interesting characters and a plot that doesn’t quit. I like a lot of action in the plot to keep the characters busy. There’s romance, but there’s also suspense in there.
6) What book are you reading now? Just started Dead in LA by Lou Harper.
7) What are your favorite TV shows? A friend got me to try The Walking Dead earlier this summer, and I loved it! Now I’m waiting for the next season, just like all the other TWD junkies!
8) What songs are most played on your Ipod? Right now, Eli Lieb’s Young Love, and his version of Radioactive. I love his voice. New add is The Time Warp from Rocky Horror Picture Show.
9) Do you have any suggestions for beginning writers? If so, what are they? Before you even start, get into some online classes and learn the craft. It’ll save you a lot of trial and error, and ultimately heartache.
10) Tell us about your favorite fan letter you have received. A gal that read one of my stories and loved it—the story, the characters, all of it. She asked for career advice, which was flattering but also a bit nerve-wracking.
2) What is the hardest part of writing your books? Getting quiet time alone to write. I hate interruptions, as I’m the sort of writer that has to get in the zone and stay immersed. When I’m constantly interrupted, the writing goes poorly.
3) Where do you research for your books? Mostly online, and site visits if necessary. I try to restrict setting to places I’ve been, or to places where I can access someone who has lived/worked there. I also use a component of “write what you know” which helps a lot.
4) Who are your books published with? Loose Id, MLR Press, Redhot Publishing.
5) What do you think makes a good story? Interesting characters and a plot that doesn’t quit. I like a lot of action in the plot to keep the characters busy. There’s romance, but there’s also suspense in there.
6) What book are you reading now? Just started Dead in LA by Lou Harper.
7) What are your favorite TV shows? A friend got me to try The Walking Dead earlier this summer, and I loved it! Now I’m waiting for the next season, just like all the other TWD junkies!
8) What songs are most played on your Ipod? Right now, Eli Lieb’s Young Love, and his version of Radioactive. I love his voice. New add is The Time Warp from Rocky Horror Picture Show.
9) Do you have any suggestions for beginning writers? If so, what are they? Before you even start, get into some online classes and learn the craft. It’ll save you a lot of trial and error, and ultimately heartache.
10) Tell us about your favorite fan letter you have received. A gal that read one of my stories and loved it—the story, the characters, all of it. She asked for career advice, which was flattering but also a bit nerve-wracking.
Blurb
Denver
homicide cop and shooting survivor Beck Stryker lives to solve the case that
left him with PTSD, chronic pain, and killed his co-investigator four months
previous. Now his career hinges on his ability to work with the man who shut
down his advances two years ago.
After last parting ways with Beck, psychiatrist-turned-FBI profiler Zach Littman never anticipated seeing the detective again. Being sent to Denver to work on a series of killings that have continued after the only suspect died is bad enough. Discovering the detective in charge is Beck leaves Zach gritting his teeth and girding his loins.
The last thing either of them needs is romantic entanglement with a fellow investigator, but danger is a powerful aphrodisiac. The case heats up, and friction between them ignites a fire neither can ignore, first at work and then in the bedroom. As they zero in on the plot behind the murders, the crosshairs zero in on Beck and Zach.
After last parting ways with Beck, psychiatrist-turned-FBI profiler Zach Littman never anticipated seeing the detective again. Being sent to Denver to work on a series of killings that have continued after the only suspect died is bad enough. Discovering the detective in charge is Beck leaves Zach gritting his teeth and girding his loins.
The last thing either of them needs is romantic entanglement with a fellow investigator, but danger is a powerful aphrodisiac. The case heats up, and friction between them ignites a fire neither can ignore, first at work and then in the bedroom. As they zero in on the plot behind the murders, the crosshairs zero in on Beck and Zach.
Excerpt
Beck reached his desk and lowered himself into the chair.
A pile of reports sat waiting for his attention. Ridiculous. He was a homicide
detective, not a secretary. This was a waste of his skills. Field cases waited,
infinitely more interesting and requiring a detective’s intuition.
Across the room, Van met his gaze and looked away. Beck spun his chair toward the windows behind him. Sheets of water rippled down the windows, blurring the building across the street.
After the shooting, Beck’s ex-lover had made it clear as still water that there was nothing left between them. At least Van had understood the pressures of the job, the danger, both on the street and in the department. Homicide was a macho division, and the other detectives were unlikely to accept an alternate orientation. He and Van had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps. Had they had a relationship or just been fuck buddies?
Nights in a soft bed, Van’s hot tongue everywhere until Beck squirmed with need. A firm grip on his cock, stroking.
“What would you like tonight?”
Heat rushed to his groin. Mind-blowing sex—no doubt about that—but was that all they’d had?
They’d never eaten at a restaurant unless it was out of town. They’d never taken a vacation together. Van liked sun and sand and room service; Beck preferred snow and skiing and grilled steaks at the lodge. And they never stayed over at each other’s places.
Sure didn’t sound like a relationship. Hell, when he’d been lying in the hospital with his shattered shoulder pinned together, wondering if his hand would ever work again, he’d turned to Van expecting emotional support, and his lover had gunned down the only thing Beck had left.
Van had left nothing at Beck’s apartment except travel brochures.
The first time Beck had risked his heart, and he’d gotten blown away for his trouble. Staying secreted in the closet precluded Van paying attention to a disabled boyfriend. “It would look strange if I spent extra time with you,” Van had said, and he’d been careful not to visit more often than any of the others. At that point, Beck had wished his injuries had been more severe, that the bullet had hit a few inches to the right and down, preempting Van’s assault on Beck’s heart. Death had sounded better than total bereavement.
Anger had overtaken depression in short order. The first thing he’d done after arriving home was deep-six the tropical-vacation brochures littering the kitchen counter.
In the ensuing weeks, Beck had fought through the pain of physical therapy and the loss of the relationship.
As Beck’s psychologist, Jay had helped him work through most of that. And the painful inquiry about the shootings.
“Hey.” Soft brown eyes gazed down at him, wary, not welcoming. The familiar scent of Van’s bay rum aftershave reached Beck, and his stomach clenched.
“Well. What can I do for you, Detective Gates?”
Van plopped a folder on his desk. “Got a computer request that needs your expertise.”
“Don’t think I can help you.” Beck picked up a pen, tapped it on the folder. “I’m not a computer expert.”
Van’s full mouth thinned, lips pressed together. “It’s a search for vehicle license plates. Need it for the murder book.”
Across the room, Van met his gaze and looked away. Beck spun his chair toward the windows behind him. Sheets of water rippled down the windows, blurring the building across the street.
After the shooting, Beck’s ex-lover had made it clear as still water that there was nothing left between them. At least Van had understood the pressures of the job, the danger, both on the street and in the department. Homicide was a macho division, and the other detectives were unlikely to accept an alternate orientation. He and Van had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps. Had they had a relationship or just been fuck buddies?
Nights in a soft bed, Van’s hot tongue everywhere until Beck squirmed with need. A firm grip on his cock, stroking.
“What would you like tonight?”
Heat rushed to his groin. Mind-blowing sex—no doubt about that—but was that all they’d had?
They’d never eaten at a restaurant unless it was out of town. They’d never taken a vacation together. Van liked sun and sand and room service; Beck preferred snow and skiing and grilled steaks at the lodge. And they never stayed over at each other’s places.
Sure didn’t sound like a relationship. Hell, when he’d been lying in the hospital with his shattered shoulder pinned together, wondering if his hand would ever work again, he’d turned to Van expecting emotional support, and his lover had gunned down the only thing Beck had left.
Van had left nothing at Beck’s apartment except travel brochures.
The first time Beck had risked his heart, and he’d gotten blown away for his trouble. Staying secreted in the closet precluded Van paying attention to a disabled boyfriend. “It would look strange if I spent extra time with you,” Van had said, and he’d been careful not to visit more often than any of the others. At that point, Beck had wished his injuries had been more severe, that the bullet had hit a few inches to the right and down, preempting Van’s assault on Beck’s heart. Death had sounded better than total bereavement.
Anger had overtaken depression in short order. The first thing he’d done after arriving home was deep-six the tropical-vacation brochures littering the kitchen counter.
In the ensuing weeks, Beck had fought through the pain of physical therapy and the loss of the relationship.
As Beck’s psychologist, Jay had helped him work through most of that. And the painful inquiry about the shootings.
“Hey.” Soft brown eyes gazed down at him, wary, not welcoming. The familiar scent of Van’s bay rum aftershave reached Beck, and his stomach clenched.
“Well. What can I do for you, Detective Gates?”
Van plopped a folder on his desk. “Got a computer request that needs your expertise.”
“Don’t think I can help you.” Beck picked up a pen, tapped it on the folder. “I’m not a computer expert.”
Van’s full mouth thinned, lips pressed together. “It’s a search for vehicle license plates. Need it for the murder book.”
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/High-Concept
ebook/dp/B00F3H6S1A/ref=zg_bsnr_14044691_7
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