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Wednesday, December 31, 2014

End the year with a trip from Scotland to Florida!





I’m sure if you interview the big authors about their inspiration for their biggest works, you’d hear a lot about sunrises or walks along the shore or something grand and beautiful and, my God, I wish I had a story like that for Playing Hard To Forget, my debut novel from Dreamspinner Press, but when the story involves Hot Topic, a thousand year old folk tale, testing your beliefs in the supernatural in the Mojave Desert, an Italian restaurant known more for its steadfast devotion to letting customers know it was air conditioned than for its food, and a somewhat maligned episode of Doctor Who, there’s no way to spin things into a watercolor mist of emotion.

It started...I guess it started with Scotland.  Hello. My name is Piper. I am 4000% Scottish. Give or take. I have everything a good stereotypical Scot should: red hair on top of a huge, hard head, a nasty temper and a creative vocabulary to match when I’m angry, and a belief that the bagpipe is, indeed, one of the most haunting and underrated instruments of all time. My family lines go back over a thousand years. A thousand. I can’t even remember what I was doing yesterday and here my ancestors have managed to keep it together for a millennium.

And not only have they managed to keep getting it on with the best of the best of Scotland to eventually produce me (did I mention the Scottish ego?), they also managed to pass down our folk tales. One particular tale involves a patriarch of the family saving the King from a wolf using the ancient equivalent of a butter knife. He was rewarded with land and a title and a castle and went on to have many children (probably from all the groupies he gained saving the King).

It probably wouldn’t make for a very interesting story on its own and certainly not outside his proud descendants, so imagine my surprise when one day I saw elements of our family’s story show up in an episode of Doctor Who entitled Tooth and Claw. Wolves. Royalty. Saving the royals from the wolves. Where have I heard this story before?

But the episode turned the idea on its head: Werewolves. Now, wait just a minute here. You can’t just take my family’s story and go crazy with it. That, I thought, my Scottish temper flaring, is MY right. And from there the idea was sort of born.

Now, wolves have been a part of me for as long as I can remember, even before I heard the tale from my great uncle. When I was young I used to have these crazy dreams where I would wake up in a small clearing in the middle of the Mojave Desert. It was pitch black except for a small fire lighting the space between the bushes. There was an old man I couldn’t see, speaking a language I understood at the time (he was telling me about my destiny, but I couldn’t understand what he said when I woke up), and a wolf standing guard, protecting us from things beyond the brush. And there were things. I just don’t know what. I was too afraid to look.

My mother, who I swear is the real life inspiration for Edina Monsoon from the 90s BBC comedy Absolutely Fabulous and considered herself an expert in mind-altering experiences, thought this was the greatest thing she had ever heard and immediately dragged me up and down the desert to find its meaning.

What did I learn on my quest? Redheads should always wear sunscreen.

And that strangers who claim to have various supernatural abilities inevitably link me with wolves. Just last year a friend hired a psychic for a party and she made a beeline to tell me about my long and sordid history with the wolf and how there was a wolf guarding and guiding me.

But werewolves? Could I pull off werewolves? The idea kept growing. I started to see inspiration everywhere. My mother’s side, also Scottish, gave itself the motto “ne m’oubliez,” Latin for “Don’t Forget Me.” Not to be confused with hit song “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” from the ALSO Scottish--and amazing--band Simple Minds, of course.

Could I blend my two families better than my parents had (the possibility of two stubborn Scots staying married is low. It’s why I married a Canadian)? The plot was, pardon the turn of phrase, thickening.

I plotted. I diagrammed. I storyboarded.  I cried. I did the exercises for writer’s block. I drank. I curled up in the fetal position. I went down to the archery range and shot till my fingers hurt. I went out with friends to dinner, to the mall, and somehow--somehow--ended up in that black hole that sucks you back into 2005.

Hot Topic.

To this day,  I don’t even know how I ended up going in, considering I’ve never actually heard a Paramore song. And, there, over the steady din of faux goths and holdover emos wishing Fall Out Boy would get back together, I heard the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard (in a Hot Topic, at least): Siouxsie and the Banshees singing a cover of “This Wheel’s On Fire.”

For those of you playing at home, a different cover of this song was the theme song for the aforementioned Absolutely Fabulous and I’d heard it a billion times growing up. But something in the lyrics, in Siouxsie’s amazing, amazing voice hit me that night. I had my plot. I knew how to tie together the tales I’d heard growing up and put them in a modern, romantic setting. If your memory serves you well. It was perfect.

From there I consumed all the dark new wave music I could get my hands on. Bauhaus. Peter Murphy. Sister of Mercy. Depeche Mode. Every new song sparked a character trait or a plot line. But it needed balance, just like my characters needed balance. Something lighter.  I obsessively devoured music in all its forms until one day, pulling out of my driveway, a folky Simon and Garfunkel-ish song I’d never heard came on the radio. It was called Moth in the Porchlight by an indie band called Folly and the Hunter.

Now, Playing Hard To Forget is set in the American South...Florida, actually. To be specific, a strange little town called Lakeland. In the south, porches and bug control are serious business, so I was already intrigued. But as the song went on, I recognized my boys--Ethan and Liam. I heard so much of the story I’d already written and by the time the song was over, I knew how their story would end.  It was an amazing feeling and I couldn’t wait to get home and write.

So where does that leave us? We started in Scotland in the year 1000 and took a few very weird turns to get here. I guess we’re at the point where I tell you I hope you’ll enjoy reading the very hot tale of Ethan Robertson and Liam Kinnaird, two Scottish boys--one of whom happens to be a werewolf--hopelessly in love despite a thousand years of angry, hard headed Scots telling them they should be otherwise.

And what does my own thousand years of hard headed Scots think about all this? I guess my mother’s happy I managed to make some kind of sense out of those wolf dreams and, for all the reasons you as a reader would like to infer, I’ve modelled one of the villains of our story after my father, so his opinion is not really taken into consideration here.

And what about the air conditioned Italian restaurant? Well, you’ll just have to read the book. And if any Lakelander can guess where I’m talking about, I’ll send you a signed copy of my book myself, separate from the official giveaway!

But in the meantime, please enjoy “Playing Hard To Forget” by Piper Doone (that’s me!), out December 26, 2014 from Dreamspinner Press.

About the Author:
Piper Doone had decade long career in professional sports that lasted ten years too long.  Before that she was in entertainment at a gigantic theme park in Orlando. Today she works in marketing and raises two kids, three hedgehogs, a dog, and a cat with her amazing husband, who not only tolerates her insanity, but also encourages it.  She also a freelance photographer who enjoys shooting on film with equipment older than she is.

She hates long walks on the beach, sunshine, and summer. She lives in Miami. Obviously.  

She considers anyone who believes The Parent Trap remake with Lindsay Lohan superior to the Hayley Mills original a mortal enemy and she has a soft spot for the Canadian folk god, Gordon Lightfoot.

You can find her on Facebook.

Friday, December 26, 2014

Chad plus Hector and Santa makes 3!



Greetings Readers!
Jaxx Steele is back wishing you Happy Holidays once more and to share with you my love for older men! Of my 3 Christmas stories available for your reading pleasure this blog will focus on Hosting for the Holidays!
I have always adored older men. You know the ones I’m talking about. The men that are aging like fine wine. Getting sexier as time passes. The Sean Connerys, Mark Harmons, Samuel Jacksons, Denzel Washingtons, Antonio Banderas’ and one of my favorites, the late Ricardo Montalbans in the world.
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of Jaxx Steele and not necessarily shared by the good people at Guys Like Romance, Too! J
There! Now, that the legalities have been observed….
The physical beauty of a young man is surely one of his prize possessions. I mean, who doesn't walk along the beach just to see those lovely hard bodies, burned to a golden glow by the sun, glistening with a sheen of perspiration, flexing beautifully in the bright July heat?
0-0 *ahem* Sorry about that. I got lost in the visual of all that and lost my train of thought.
Now where was I? Oh yes…as I was saying. That's all good, but it takes more than a pretty face, doesn’t it? I am not trying to bash younger men, but if physical beauty fades with time and that’s all you have, well…
An older man who is healthy in mind and conscience of his physical health can be just as visually beautiful! Father Time has been kind to his body because he remains active. He may not possess that six pack he used to at twenty five, but as he hovers around fifty he is in good shape and shows appreciation for your six pack! And Lordy! Let’s not forget there are still a few out there who do have the body they had at twenty five! He appreciates the days he has and lives them to the fullest. His graying hair looks distinguished on him and ups his sexiness tenfold.
I also love the fact that he is confident about who he is. Educated, intelligent and worldly is a major turn on! He has no problem teaching you what he knows and welcomes the challenge of learning new things from you. Ahhh, yes, what can I say? I love them.
Hosting for the Holidays starts at Christmas and ends New Years night. It is a May-December romance that celebrates the beauty of the older man.J Here’s a peek. Enjoy!



Hector had chosen the Christmas time for his young lover, Chad, to meet his best friends for the first time. Christmas Eve dinner went well and Chad felt he had made a group of new friends. To celebrate New Year's Eve Chad made special plans for him and Hector, but will the impromptu appearance by their friends threatened to ruin his big surprise?
Excerpt:
“So Santa, do you have enough time to hang around and play with my sweet little Chad?”
Santa’s laugh was far from his famously known ‘ho-ho-ho’, but it did have joy in it. “If I can stay up all night delivering Christmas gifts to good little children around the world, surely I have enough time and strength to fuck the both of you.”
Santa’s voice was deep and silky sending waves of sensual vibrations down Chad’s back. Santa kicked his boots off and removed the pants before he reached down to yank the glittery white cloth from underneath the tree. He walked to the fireplace wearing only his hat and jacket as the lights from the tree flickered teasingly across his tight muscular butt. Lowering himself onto the carpet, he spread out the cloth and discarded his red velvet coat.
“Have you been a good boy, Chad?” he asked stroking his cock.
Chad swallowed loudly. “Yes, Santa, I have been very good.”
“Are you a good lay, too?”
The carnal question made Chad’s cock bob in his hand and a shudder run down his back. He looked up at Hector and his love smiled approvingly at him.
“Oh yes, I am very good,” he answered, turning his attention back to Santa.
Santa lay back on top of the tree skirt in front of the roaring fire. The light of the dancing flames made his dark skin glow like polished copper. His impressive piece was full as his hand twisted and turned over the gleaming chocolate head. Hundreds of Christmas cards with Santa, Kris Kringle, St. Nick and a slew of other renditions of the same man flashed through Chad’s mind. None could hold a candle to how good this dark, delicious man looked stretched out leisurely before their fireplace.
“Then come ride Santa’s cock with that tight little ass of yours.”
Chad didn’t hesitate to answer his call. He wanted more than anything to ride Santa’s big dick and so did his daddy. He straddled Santa’s lap pressing his hands to his broad shoulders for leverage. Leaning forward he let Santa position his staff in place, and then he pressed down until it disappeared inside of him.
His eyes closed as he planted his knees on the carpet and rocked slowly back and forth over the bulging head. Chad pressed his lips together to muffle a moan. His face twisted in obvious pleasure. Still gripping Santa’s shoulders, Chad bounced his ass over the thick organ, arching his back with rhythmic thrusts of his hips, to bring them both optimal pleasure. Santa grasped Chad’s hips, slamming onto his cock.
“Shit! He works you like this every night, Old School?” Santa asked Hector.
Hector let out a lusty laugh and came closer to them. “Not every night, but as often as I let him.”
It took Santa let a few groans slip out before he spoke again. “No offense, dude, but aren’t you a little old for a sweet young thang like this to be fucking you with such gusto?”
Hector laughed again as he ran his fingers lovingly through Chad’s hair as he continued to work Santa into frenzy.
“None taken and you’re probably right, but what better way to go, eh?”


Hosting for the Holidays  available at Muse it Hot!

Have you ever wished for something naughty from Santa? Leave a comment telling us what along with your email. The best comment will receive a hand made Breast Cancer awareness scarf.

Until next time…

Jaxx Steele has left the building!