Please welcome author K.Z. Snow, who's joining us today to talk about her recent release, Bastards and Pretty Boys.
A lakeside summer idyll, a budding romance . . . and jealousy gone horribly awry.
Charles Larkin is finally happy with his life. For the most part. He's happy with his new summer getaway--a rustic cottage he just bought on a small Wisconsin lake. He's happy that his ex-wife, whom he divorced because he couldn't play straight anymore, has become one of his best friends. He's happy he can breathe again.
It's only Kenneth, Charlie's boyfriend of five months, who makes this new life less than completely satisfying. Charlie feels they've never been quite right for each other, and Kenneth cements that conviction when he makes a disturbing confession. Charlie knows their time together is quickly coming to an end. Problem is, Kenneth doesn't know it. And he tends to be rather possessive.
Planning to spend a quiet, relaxing two or three weeks at Cloud Lake, Charlie is less than thrilled to notice that his next door neighbor is one hell of a looker. He doesn't need that kind of distraction. Only, Booker isn't going anywhere, and he isn't that easily ignored. And neither is his unexpected, none-too-savory baggage. And neither, for that matter, is Charlie's. But when two people care enough about each other, they figure out how to help carry such baggage . . . or cast it aside.
Bastards and Pretty Boys is available from Liquid Silver Books here:
Don't miss the excerpt from Bastards and Pretty Boys at the bottom of the post. And now, the interview:
Tell us about your recent publication.
Bastards and Pretty Boys is a m/m erotic contemporary romance. In a nutshell, it's about a summer idyll and budding romance that are threatened by double-barreled jealousy born of obsession.
What gave you the idea for this story?The title, actually. It came to me before the story did!
Why do you write?It burns calories, builds finger strength, and keeps me from running afoul of the law.
What do you like to read?Fiction (literary, m/m, horror) and history, mostly, with an occasional biography thrown in.
What is your most embarrassing experience as an author?The embarrassing experiences fall into two categories: 1. sticking my foot in my mouth, and 2. having a book reviewed by somebody who didn't pay very close attention to it.
Who has inspired you, and how?Lois Stahl, a housemaid, who suggested I try my hand at writing romance.
What do you like about m/m?
The m. And m.What is your favorite guilty pleasure?
Gay porn. Doesn't make me feel too guilty, though. ;-)
To what/whom do you credit your success?
I'll get back to you when I'm successful.
Was there a time when you almost gave up? What made you keep going?What time is it now? I often feel like giving up, but there's nothing else I'm qualified to do except, maybe, be an editor.
If there were one misconception about m/m that you could clear up forever, what would it be?That wimmin can't "get it right."
What was one of your favorite books as a kid?Homer's Odyssey (I was hooked on Greek mythology.)
If you could change one thing about the publishing industry, what would it be?
One thing? Yikes. Okay, let's start with publishers' criteria for acceptance. I think too many substandard offerings have been flooding the market.
Who is your favorite character, and why?Jackson Spey, by far. He's been with me a long time. He's a master carpenter and wizard and biker. He's mature, intelligent, droll, sexy as hell, and very flawed but also very likeable. A complex man loaded with strength, sensitivity, and integrity.
What is your proudest moment as an author?Every time I write a fabulous sentence, paragraph, or section is a proud moment. Beyond that, I feel pretty humble. Relative anonymity can do that to a person.
What kind of impact do you hope your work will have on readers?Depends on the work. To provoke thought, sometimes, and feeling. To provide a brief escape. I certainly don't expect to make any life-altering impact. I'm hardly the asteroid of popular fiction.
Kirk, or Spock?
I've always been a Spock gal.
For an excerpt from Bastards and Pretty Boys, please click the link below:
My quaint cottage on Cloud Lake felt empty. No guests, no television to watch, no neighborhood bustle. Just me, a Blackberry, a laptop, and a motley assortment of still-boxed books and skin magazines in a handful of small, clean rooms. I couldn't remember if I'd brought my iPod and didn't feel like rummaging through the house or going out to my van to look for it.
As the sun lowered, I turned off the air conditioner. Its hum was annoying, and the closed windows and doors made me feel even more insular than the setting alone made me feel.
I'd been digging through the books when I heard voices outside. Two men, arguing. Words rose and fell. Some were caught and bounced around by air moving over water, their volume boosted and their tone sharpened. Most, though, were unintelligible, muffled by the surrounding stands of trees and shrubs.
I didn't pay much attention at first…but soon realized how out of place the sound was. According to my realtor, Cloud Lake was known for its serenity. There was a modest campground on the northwest shore, but the voices weren't coming from there; they were too close.
Getting up from the floor, I went to my road-facing door and listened, then to the deck doors and listened. What I heard wasn't a violent altercation. It wasn't alarming enough to warrant calling the police or dashing outside to investigate. But there was obvious emotion in the voices--tension, obstinacy, frustration, an ominous hint of ultimatum and threat.
"… enough … For God's sake, let it go."
"… can't just ditch … promised …"
"… wrong! …"
"… think twice … consequences …"
And then, for several minutes, silence. A screen door slammed. Thwack. It sounded like one of those old wooden doors with gingerbread brackets at each corner and a spring to keep it closed. A car engine growled to life. No mistaking the location of that sound. It came from the next property to the south. When I reached the back door, I glimpsed a silver subcompact spitting up a dusty wake as it headed down the dirt road to the two-lane highway.
*
The fire of sunset glazed Cloud Lake. Low ripples--occasionally concentric, where submerged mouths snatched at swimming insects--made the surface shiver like a burn victim. I sat on my deck nursing two fingers of Chivas on the rocks. A large fish jumped into the air, made a twisting arc, and slid back into the water.
I felt mellow. And very receptive to the new element that entered this idyllic scene.
My neighbor, the one who liked to swim and quarrel, strode down the low incline that led from his cottage to the water. Without pausing, he walked onto the pier. Not a single plank creaked beneath his weight; not a single screw squealed in the wood. He seemed like an apparition, a brooding, dark swatch laid against the blaze of the setting sun.
He stopped at the end and stood motionless, facing the shimmering lake. A breeze ruffled his dark, slightly curling hair. The sun sank lower and seemed to target him, one bright ray gilding his still form.
I thought of Jay Gatsby, gazing across a Long Island bay at the green light marking Daisy Buchanan's dock. Maybe my neighbor, too, yearned for a lost love, although she likely wasn't in Pumpkinseed Campground across this expanse of water.
He wore faded jeans and a short, dark jacket. His hands, tucked in the pockets, pulled the jacket snug around his waist. Again, I couldn't help noticing the mound of his butt. It was in perfect proportion to his slim hips.
A telltale squirming in my groin nearly made me groan in dismay. For crying out loud, I was only looking at a man, and a fully clothed one, from afar. The sight shouldn't have moved me at all.
"Damn it," I whispered. Why here? Why now? I had to resolve my shit with Kenneth. The last thing I needed was the daily appearance of a guy with a great ass stirring my hormones.
I wondered vaguely how Bucky the twink would have explained this.
Wise and jaded beyond his years, Bucky was something of a fixture at a certain bathhouse in a certain large Midwestern city. I used to patronize the establishment whenever a business trip took me within ninety miles of it. This was, of course, after my separation from Carolyn and before I met Kenneth.
"You're still in the candy-store phase," Bucky had told me offhandedly, after remarking that I looked like a bead of water on a hot skillet--all steamy and skitterish.
But I should've been out of that phase. Five months of regular sex with Kenneth should've pulled me out. Even Carolyn was starting to treat us like a married couple, as much as she recoiled from him.
Besides, the odds were in favor of dark-haired dude being a typically homophobic blue-collar guy who'd come up to do a little fishing. Maybe some buddies or a girlfriend would be joining him. Or maybe they'd already been here and left, and he himself would be leaving tomorrow. Vacationers almost always headed for home on Sunday.
Whatever the case, I had to get a grip and start keeping my eyes to myself. I still had Kenneth to deal with, and even if I didn't, not every perfect chest or ass or dick was mine for the taking.
Just to strengthen my immunity, I reminded myself that those strained, heated voices I'd heard earlier didn't bode well. Conflict, I didn't need.
Do not cash to buy a house? Worry not, because this is real to take the mortgage loans to resolve such problems. Therefore take a consolidation loan to buy everything you need.
Posted by: BeatriceADAMS22 | July 01, 2011 at 09:29 AM
First, many thanks, Jessica, for lending me some space. My hips can always use extra space. And the Princess with her pearly whites was a wonderful houseguest.
Hey, Katrina! I didn't think anybody would object too strenuously to my reasoning. ;-)
Tam, you globetrotter, you make me feel so provincial. Yes, I'll go on a tour with you anytime--Athens, Prague, Vienna, Budapest--and we'll eat every local dessert we can get our hands on and grab lots of man-butt. How does that sound?
You too, Jeanne? Looks like we have a perfect little geek corner here (but you're right, Jessica, the guys in togas are noticeably absent--damn).
Actually, once I got out of my Greek phase, I was seriously determined to become an Egyptologist. How I ended up an English major still mystifies me. (Gee, maybe it was that stunning array of world literature that sucked me in. Ya think?)
Posted by: K. Z. Snow | October 07, 2009 at 01:41 PM
Hi K.Z.! Looks like things are getting quite classical over here. Maybe we should have a toga party. Guys... togas are optional!
Oh, and thanks for giving Princess Cheeseball walkies yesterday. She told me she had a great time with you. ;)
Posted by: Jessica Freely | October 07, 2009 at 11:51 AM
Okay, all the Greek myths gals gather in the corner here together. I read Edith Hamilton when I was a kid and love 'em still.
Wish I could afford to visit Greece just for the antiquities.
Lovely interview and I adore your cover!
Posted by: Jeanne Barrack | October 07, 2009 at 11:22 AM
OMG, I loved Greek myths. I read the Odyssey in its poem form to my daughter for bedtime reading. How dorky is that. :-) I even went to Athens and saw the Parthenon and all that geeky stuff. You should go. We'll go together, geek/Greek out, eat baklava, drink ouzo and ogle cute Greek boys. :-)
Posted by: Tam | October 07, 2009 at 09:28 AM
Great interview, KZ and Jessica! KZ, I'll have to agree with you on that m along with the m. ;)
Posted by: Katrina Strauss | October 07, 2009 at 08:39 AM