Or, in other words, Girl Parts vs Boy Bits.
When I started writing last year, I had no idea I'd soon be a published author...of m/m romance. I hadn't even
read anything involving two guys. That soon changed, and it proved more inspirational than I'd ever dreamt! I started off slowly (haha) with a m/m/f menage containing some hot scenes between the two heroes. In my next manuscript, I deleted the girl entirely and viola! My first contract:
Remarkable Restraint in the Games In The Dark antho. This was followed one week later by my second contract:
A Pint Light here at TEB. And the rest was history.
At least it was until I got an itch of a different sort. Once firmly convinced that manlove was my niche, this winter my muse decided to throw me back into het sex. I'm sure this was at least partially thanks to my impending Big 4-0 next month, and the reason I know this is because all of the storylines suddenly circling in my head were het, yes, but had women my age (and up) hooking up with some hot young things. Can anyone say midlife crisis?
Storylines were all my contrary muse provided though. When it came time to actually write, I had the hardest time getting into the het sex scenes. Very frustrating, considering sex scenes had always flowed (no pun intended) so easily with my guys. I circled around them for a while, writing the non-sex scenes first. But as soon as I got to the foreplay, wham! Mental roadblock.
I had racked up three manuscripts with great (IMHO, lol) plots left dangling when intimacy was due, before I finally wrapped my head around working a clit into the mix instead of another penis. To this day, I still don't know exactly what had me stymied or what broke the dam, but it happened in the nick of time.
So short post today so I can get back to my cougar, who finally got her claws into her PYT. Here is the blurb from my current work in progress, Spring Training:
With a son who's played since he could walk, Terri lives, eats and breathes baseball. She was almost more excited than Emery when his invitation to a minor league team's training camp came. But excited doesn't begin to describe her reaction to Emery's new mentor, Aaron Reynolds. A spring fling with a hot, young thing? Just the ticket.
Fighting a chronic injury, Aaron is biding his time until he's called back up to the majors. So being assigned a hot-headed rookie to babysit is fine with him, especially one that come with a sassy, sexy, camp follower like Terri. But he soon finds he has his hands full...trying to keep Emery on the straight and narrow...and trying to keep his liason with Terri strictly physical.
With two careers on the line, Terri and Aaron are soon torn between the right thing to do...and what's right for them.
Excerpt:
“Heads up, it’s a bunt! He’s putting it down!” Teri screamed, cupping her hands around her mouth. The infielders were already reading the stance of the batter and moving forward in anticipation.
Sure enough, the batter skilfully laid a soft bunt down the third base line and took off for first, and with bases loaded, everyone was running.
Teri jumped to her feet. “Home, force at home!” she yelled as if she could be heard over the roar of the crowd, her eyes glued to the third baseman.
He charged the ball, snagging it on the run and deftly flipping it to the catcher for the out at home.
“Turn two, turn two!”
The catcher then heaved the ball to first, just past the head of the batter, and Teri watched, heart in her throat, for the call from the umpire.
Before he’d even finished his, “Out!” signalling the successful double play, she was in the air with a whoop, looking automatically to the tall, rangy third baseman, who was pointing straight at her with a crooked grin. She blew him a kiss, and the handsome player winked back before running to join his teammates celebrating their victory with a huge dogpile on the pitcher mound. It was early in the season yet, but a return trip to the College World Series in Omaha was looking more and more likely. Fingers crossed.
Heart pounding with adrenaline, and still feeling giddy from being on the receiving end of that beautiful smile, Teri turned a bit sheepishly to the tall, equally handsome man standing and clapping next to her on the bleachers. He was looking down at her with a familiar combination of amusement and embarrassment. As soon as their eyes met, she threw her arms around his middle in an apologetic hug.
“Do I know you?” he mocked.
Teri smiled against his shirt. “Know me and love me.”
“You love him more.” He pouted as he patted her on the head.
It was a frequent complaint, without heat, and one she always had an answer for. “I love you both the same, just differently.”
“Yeah, right.” Alex gave her one last squeeze before setting her aside. “I’m going down. You coming?” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “What am I saying, of course you’re coming. Stick close to me; it’s a mob scene down there.”
Teri grinned as her protective “older” son grabbed her hand and used his height to his advantage in shouldering his way through the masses to the celebrating players, tugging her along in his wake.
One body separated itself from the team and was suddenly thumping against them, enveloping them both in a hard, sweaty embrace.
“Get off me, fucker, you’re gross.”
“Alex! Watch your mouth.”
“Sorry Mom, but he is gross.”
“That’s not the word I meant, and you know it.” She turned to her “youngest” son, Emery—youngest by a whole five minutes, and reached up to take his lower face in her hands. “Great play at the end, Em. Good hustle. They never would’ve gotten the batter in time if it’d been anyone else.”
Emery flushed with pleasure at the compliment, even as he contradicted, “Geez, Ma, you’re not biased or anything. That’s a play any good third baseman should’ve made.”
“Be that way. I know you’re awesome.” She stretched on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You coming with us to grab a bite?”
“Excuse me, Emery Sandusky?”
The family turned as one towards the unfamiliar voice. “Yeah, I’m Emery.” He glanced at his coach, standing slightly behind the stranger.
“Bill Patterson, Reds organization. Your coach and I have been talking. Do you have a minute?”
Teri’s breath caught—
Oh my God, it’s a scout—and she practically shoved Em towards the two men. “You go, hon. We’ll be at Culver’s. On second thought, we’re driving through. See you at home. C’mon, Alex.” She pulled on his arm frantically and got him aimed towards the car.
Please let him get his shot...and not screw it up.
*************
I do love sports, and had a great time writing my heroes in Rough Riders in the
Gaymes Anthology, which released this week in ebook. I believe a print edition is expected out in February, and I for one am looking forward to holding this hot cover in my hot little hands!
***********
Okay, speaking of sports, now for the contest. The first person to correctly identify the yummy real life baseball player above wins an ebook of choice from my backlist, including the Gaymes antho. Good luck!
First hint: He was on the World Series winning team in 2004, but is no longer with that team.
**********
UPDATE: Yes, Eyre and Jase practically tied for the win...it's Gabe Kapler of the Tampa Bay Rays! Mid-thirties and looking fine, his nicknames include the "Hebrew Hammer" and "The Body". Play ball!
