Locke and Blade – Lynn’s New Release!

Here’s the latest release from me. It’s really a re-release, and not much has changed. It’s been edited a bit, so if you already have it, skip it, unless you love the new cover. I want to thank MLR Press for letting me republish this novella. It’s one of my favorites.

Blurb – When Locke and Blade must work together to solve crimes, but will dislike turn to attraction in the heat of fighting their enemies?

Christopher Locke is a man with a tarnished reputation. When he’s transferred to Waterford Station to serve as inspector, he meets Jonathan Blade, his new partner. Jonathan thinks Christopher is a brute. Chris thinks Jonathan is a snob. Both think the other is more than attractive, which might be more dangerous than the enemies they must face.

Except – Jonathan Blade slammed the door of his office, crossed to his desk, and fell into his chair.
“The God be damned!” He ran a hand over his face and then leaned back and closed his eyes.

What had Wilson been thinking, bringing that big brute here to Waterford? They were two men short, true, but Locke? He looked a ruffian, every inch of him, never mind the way the man’s muscles strained at his uniform, or the way the scar on his chin piqued Blade’s interest. Why hadn’t the healers removed the jagged line? Why leave it to mar the man’s rugged good looks?

Was it a symbol of something? A reminder? A vanity?

A man such as Locke would, no doubt, try to take charge; perhaps try to win Blade’s spot as second-in-command. He might try to test his skills against Blade’s, but Blade knew he’d win in that contest. No man or woman had bested him during their station’s competitions, or in actual battle.

Blade always got his man. Always.

Locke’s dismissal—well, not a true dismissal from the force, but a transfer—had been all the talk around the mess tables. Gossip moved fast through the small patroller community; some bloke at Locke’s old station knew someone here, or perhaps the addler’s network carried the information, but no matter how, theories buzzed around like flies on a dead rat, and none of them good.

Blade had heard the man had beaten a suspect to death with those huge hands of his. The thought of that sent a shudder down Blade’s spine. Physical violence was nearly unheard of in their world, unlike the world they’d separated from two hundred years ago. That world had been vicious, brutal, and terrified of majik . Still was, for all they knew. Not many had crossed the portals and lived to tell the tale. Their best majikians had banded together to split the world apart, majik and non-majik, created the portals and fled that world for this one, where majik and civility ruled.

Had Locke come from off-world, crossed one of the hidden portals and managed to inveigle himself into their society? Perhaps that explained the scar.
Blade sat up and pulled open one of his drawers. There had been a missive from headquarters a few months ago about a new training program, one that incorporated physical means with majik.

In the back of the drawer, behind his notebooks, he found the crumpled bit of parchment. He pulled it out and smoothed it down on his desk blotter.
He’d dismissed it at the time, but now, with the arrival of Locke, he began to wonder if Wilson had brought the man here to train them all in the new fighting techniques. Surely Wilson would have told him, his second, about those plans?

An uneasy feeling crept over Blade as he read.

The letter described how they leaped and rolled, firing wands at will, and teleporting in and out of the field of battle to gain strategic advantage. How they’d learned physical combat methods also. It went on to say the Avalon Patrol Station had trained all their patrollers and inspectors in this new form of combat and it had been highly successful in fighting Lord Blackmoor’s men.

Blade didn’t like it when he’d read about it then and he didn’t like it now. Majik was subtle, beautiful in its use, and elegant in form. The wand was a gentleman’s weapon, and only the most skilled inspector could wield it with deadly effect. He’d killed men before in the line of duty, cleanly, with his wand, without using a blood weapon or his soiling his hands. He could imagine that great brute Locke using his fists to beat some poor farmer into submission, and Blade refused to be reduced to the same low element.

If Wilson thought they’d all become hooligans, bravos, and villains in order to fight the new crime wave, he’d have to do it without Inspector Jonathan Blade. And to be saddled with the man as his partner? Wilson had surely lost his mind.

And yet…there was something intensely attractive about Christopher Locke. Something drew Blade to him, like a bee to clover, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it might be. Something in his eyes, something painful and filled with sorrow, a hunger, perhaps.

Blade snorted.

More likely the sheer size of the man. Although Locke was only a few inches taller than Blade, the man weighed more, and by the size of the muscles in his arms and thighs, he would be more powerful.

But only physically. Blade was unwavering in his belief that in terms of majik skill and power, he would win.

Would Locke’s speed and strength win over Blade’s majik?

Not bloody likely.

Well, whatever this new method was, he wasn’t interested in using his fists. The very idea was beneath him and the rank of inspector of the patrol.
A voice niggled in the back of his mind. You’re attracted to him…admit it.

Bloody hell, he couldn’t think that way. First, the patrol frowned on fraternization among staff and secondly, their society did not approve of men desiring men. It wasn’t outlawed, but it certainly wasn’t the norm. Still, he’d heard rumors of some stations where inspectors were more than friends.

Lovers.

That word raised the hair on his arms and the back of his neck.

Men couldn’t be lovers, could they? They could share their bodies, he’d heard whispers, but what of their hearts? He’d never seen it, not in his thirty years, and as a man who desired men he’d come to accept he’d have to keep to himself, squelch those needs, keep them buried for the rest of his life.

That longing had been there ever since the first time he’d noticed one of the young grooms on his father’s estate. and fFelt that first hardening of his cock at the sight of the lad’s half-naked body as he jumped into the small creek running through their lands.

The boy’s hair had dripped wet and dark down sun-tanned skin, his teeth showed white as he laughed, and Blade had felt that first throbbing pull of attraction. He’d promptly shoved it down inside his very soul, terrified to admit it to himself or let anyone else know about it.

Luckily, his older brother would be the one to create the next heir, and Blade had been left to pursue his dreams of being in the patrol service.
Now his life was the patrol, the One God, this station, and he’d do nothing to jeopardize it. Not even for the pleasures of the flesh or the hope of a lifelong companion.

The One God had no written commandments forbidding men to lie together and he knew it happened in some corners of their society. There were whispers that among the holy fathers, friendships deepened into more.

Blade knew his own body’s urges and he sated them alone, in his room, picturing vague male bodies entwined, as if seen through a veil of gauze, imagining everything from touching to rubbing, even kissing. What more could men share?

Certainly not what men shared with women. His father and older brother had told him of that…his father to educate; his brother to brag.

Just thinking of that young man of his youth made his cock grow stiff. He adjusted it in his trousers, shifting in his chair. The touch of his hand sent a wave of pleasure through him.

A knock sounded on his door and he jerked his hand away.

“Enter!” he called out, snatching up his quill pen.

The door opened and Christopher Locke stood there.

To win a copy of the ebook, comment here. I’ll wait until Wednesday to pick a winner.

Here are some of the buy links –
MLR Press
Amazon
ARe

Rougaroux Social Club by Lynn Lorenz

Some have asked me why I named this series Rougaroux Social Club. Well, the answer is both simple and complex. This series is set deep in south Louisiana, in the heart of Cajun country. In Cajun cooking, the first thing a good cook must know how to make is a roux. It’s the basis for most soups, like a good gumbo. The roux is everything. This is basically a mixture of flour and some sort of fat, like butter or oil. It’s slow cooked, with constant stirring so’s not to “burn the roux.” Once it’s burnt, the taste is ruined and you should start over.
So, that explains the roux part of Rougaroux.

Now, the Rougarou part – in Cajun legend, the dreaded swamp wolf is called the rougarou, or rugarou, and it’s basically our version of a werewolf. So I combined the cooking with the legend. And no, I didn’t create Cajun cooking werewolves, although most of their maman’s (that’s french for mama) probably make a mean roux. I know Scott’s maman Darlene can cook circles around most chefs, at least in Cajun cooking.
That explains the Rougaroux part.

Now, let’s look at the Social Club.
In the south, especially in New Orleans and southern Louisiana, groups of people form “social clubs” where they can get together to dance, party, eat, and mostly do good works. Sometimes they’re called “social and pleasure” clubs. I stuck with just social.
So I have this pack of werewolves, who are mostly Catholic, who need a place to meet and hold pack meetings, so where better than to form a social club, give it a tease of a name, and also use it to do good deeds, especially for pack members. Think of it as hiding in plain sight.
Yes, my werewolves are Catholic, and yes, the priest knows about them. He’d have to, if you think about it.

And to make it even more fun, the town where this is set, St. Jerome, like most small towns in Cajun country, holds its very own Rougarou Festival, to celebrate the legend of the Rougarou. The social club is the sponsor of the event, and each year, they hold a costume contest for the best Rougarou costume.
As you can see, I had a lot of fun with this whole series, from Bayou Dreams to Bayou Des Enfants, there is a strong element of humor in each book. And the person who brings the funny is hands down, Scott’s maman, Darlene. She’s a hoo-doo voodoo practicing Catholic who doesn’t know her own powers or at least, she thinks she does. Having her casting spells on the men she loves is fun. I get to mess with these men, disguised as her.

But even though there is humor, each of the book explores serious issues, like how a straight man can have a gay wolf inside him, whether love and fated mates can overcome fear and distrust, and how to build a family when two parents aren’t quite ready. Frequently we find the pack in jeopardy from internal stresses and external pressures. Hard choices have to be made, mates have to be found and wooed, and voodoo has to mess up a few lives.

I hope you’ll give my Bayou wolves a try. Come on down to Cajun country. Make a fais-do-do and pass a good time. Eat some gumbo and fried oysters. Sit on the bank of the bayou and cast a spell or two. But watch out for maman’s cat.

If you’re interested in buying them, on Amazon, click this link. Thanks! If you’ve read them and enjoyed them, please think about leaving a review!
Bayou Dreams
Bayou’s End
Bayou Loup
Bayou Des Enfants

Recent Events by Lynn Lorenz

It’s my turn to blog. Just a few days ago, the unthinkable happened. A Muslim man, armed with several weapons, entered a gay nightclub filled with Hispanic gay men and killed over 50, wounding another 50, at least. The total death toll could be higher.

From all accounts, it was both domestic terrorism and a hate crime against LGBT people.

Everyone is shaken to their cores, horrified by this event, and the loss of so many lives and the wounding of many, many more. I’ll say everyone, because if this mass murder doesn’t sicken you, there is something very wrong with you. I’m guessing there are people who relish this act, but I’m not talking to those people. They are lost.

There is much to say about how and why this happened, and from what I can tell, only two reasons. One we can’t fight and the other we can.

We can not fight ideas. There is no bomb, no weapon, that can slay ideas, especially those ideas that tell people to hate other people who are not like them. We can’t find every person who believes in these ideas, and kill them. It’s impossible.

But we can fight how these people kill so many people and that’s by enacting major changes in gun control. By making it impossible for anyone to purchase automatic weapons built solely to kill people, like the AR-15, the most used weapon in the many assaults on people here in the US.

How we do that is by electing officials who also believe these laws need to be changed, loop holes closed, ID checks for every gun sale, and others. No the laws won’t stop the ideas, but they will stop the carnage.

This November, let’s clean house and the senate. Please take the time to learn what the opposing and sitting officials’ records are against and for gun control. It might not be a Democrat, it might be a third party candidate. The trick about voting for change is there have to be people, men and women, who are willing to run to affect that change. Be informed.

Just cleaning house and replacing current leaders with new leaders who don’t believe in enacting that change just puts us in the same boat as before. I don’t hold out much hope with the current government who refuse to do what’s necessary to protect it’s citizens, even from themselves, because after Sandy Hook, where an armed man slaughtered school children – children – and these same legislators did nothing about it, I don’t believe they will do anything about a nightclub full of gay men being slaughtered or wounded.

This November, vote for change. Make one of your platform issues gun control. Vote those who refused to change the laws to protect our children, because, believe me, every one of those people in the Pulse club were someone’s children, out of office.

Vote for change. Vote for our future. Vote for our children.

Making Books by Theodora Lane (Lynn Lorenz)

Well. I’m getting pretty good at this print book making thingy.
I’m on my way – with one book I did at Createspace, I dove into the next two books, with a third planned
to finish up this week.

Here’s the covers to the Theodora Lane books – They’re with Liquid Silver in ebook, but I own the print rights, so
since I’m attending the Houston Author Bash event in February, I needed a few Theodora books to sell, along with some
Lynn books. The signing is in Katy, on Feb 20th, from 10am to 3pm. For more info on who will be there… http://www.katybooks.com/event/houston-authors-bash

The one I’m working on now, is a re-release of No Good Deed by Lynn Lorenz. Here’s the shiny new cover!

It was sort of easy, once I got the formatting down, and my cover artists turned the graphics over to me, it was upload, check, upload, check again, and then upload and check.
I got my Proof copies back within a week and I placed my order just last week! Now, 20 copies are on route to me!
And if I have time, I’m going to do a print of my re-release, Best Vacation That Never Was for the Bash.
Here’s that new cover!

This event is the first time I’m doing a book signing in Houston, along with some of my fellow Houston RWA members, and some other friends coming in town for the event.
I can’t wait to raise my banner I had made – the one with both Theodora and Lynn on it!
If you’re attending the event, look for me. I’ll be sitting under this beauty —

Monkey Wrenches and Love by Lynn Lorenz

On Saturday, life threw me a big-ass monkey wrench. To quote La Donald, “It was huuuuge!”

One of my first publishers, Amber Quill Press, announced to it’s authors it was closing it’s doors on March 31st.

I’m saddened by this, but to say it wasn’t expected would not be true. I just didn’t expect it this year, perhaps. I know, for my own part, this business has changed in ways I sure wasn’t happy about, and I can only imagine publishers like AQP weren’t either.

But when the world changes, you either change with it, or it bucks you off and you land on your ass. My ass may look soft and cushy, but I hate to tell you, it ain’t made for those hard falls.

One of the things I learned very early in my writing career was this is a business. You must be professional. I’ve been lucky in that the companies I’ve worked with, barring one or two, have been very professional.
AQP was very professional, and I thank the owners for that, back then and now. Even when I was struggling to adapt, asking for the rights on a few books, they dealt with me professionally.

I have about 15 books with them, mostly novellas, but one of my favorite books, David’s Dilemna, was with them. When I decided to write a romance about a gay man struggling with his father’s Alzheimer’s, they told me, sure. Write it. This is your career and you decide what to put out there. I have to say, “Thank you, AQP.” That was certainly a book of my heart, written when my own father was struggling with the onset of the disease. The book didn’t make tons of money for me, but oh, the letters I received from readers, most who were living with care-taking a parent. They touched and moved me to tears, as did this book when I wrote it. At the first GRL, I read an excerpt from this book, and broke down sobbing. I was so embarrassed at the time, but I’ve learned over the years, I shouldn’t have been. It was just the “feels” as many told me.

At AQP I wrote a series of novellas set before, during and after Hurricane Katrina. New Orleans is my home town, will always be home to me and I wanted to give back. To tell about the strength and resilience of a city and it’s people in the face of an incredible disaster. AQP let me do those books. Pinky Swear, Pioneers, and C’est La Vie, were about two young men torn apart, then brought together by the disaster, and about Sebastian, their 70 yr old gay landlord, and what is was like being gay in New Orleans in the sixties, and who gets a second chance to love. Again, not huge sellers, but so from my heart.

In No Good Deed, I wrote about a bi-sexual Chinese-American small town cop in Texas, who falls for a highly traumatized gay man who can’t be touched by a man, and must make a decision to out himself or give up any hope for love.
In a climate where writing scenes of m/f sex (after all this man is bi-sexual, although he prefers men) got my book kicked off review sites, or was told the sex was squicky, AQP stood by my choices as an artist.

I think my most adventurous writing was done for them. Horror. Gothic. Science Fiction. Historical. I could take a chance there, knowing it was up to me to fail or succeed. AQP let me step out on my own, decide what I wanted to write, what heat levels, who my characters would be, and their age.

I had a writing schedule all laid out for this year – three m/m books, three m/f books. Now, I have 15 books I have to do something with. It’s a chunk of my backlist, and it’s equal to $$$, so I can’t just let them sit there. Decisions must be made before March, but I have time to figure it out. And I have the help of my hubs, who promised me he’d do all the formatting and uploading so I can write. Once again, he comes to my rescue!
So even though my books might not be up and running on April 1st, they will show up! I’ll send out FB posts, or maybe even a newsletter. You’ll find them on Amazon and ARe, in various formats, and with new covers!
Or you can buy them now, at Amber Quill’s site! (Hint hint)

So again, thank you to Amber Quill Press, for taking a chance on my and letting my imagination and my talent run wild. I hope that the monkey wrench gods are kind to the owners and that they succeed and prosper in their next undertakings.

Hottest Christmas List and Contest by Lynn Lorenz

 

Happy Holidays, or as Drake and the men in the series would say, “A merry Yule to you!” Today, I’m giving you a glimpse of Peter’s Yule gift list.

Peter (from The Mercenary’s Tale and His Duke’s Gift) had a lot of shopping to do this season. He’s got three men to get gifts for, since he’s living in a menage with them at the distant outpost, called the Silent Lodge.
There’s Arvel, a deaf mute, with striking red hair and an impish nature. For him, Peter found a lovely deep fern green wool scarf to keep him warm, since he tends to catch cold.
For Gareth, the alpha Nordic blond, he bought a well-balance throwing knife to keep tucked in Gareth’s boot.
For Caelin, a young man horribly scared, Peter had a winter hooded cloak made for him, in the colors of the Duke of Marden livery, to hide his scars when he’s around others or on patrol.
And for Peter, all he’s hoping for is more time with his men. And that they each return safe and sound to him when they go about their duties.

Blurb – When Peter’s wife and child died in childbirth, he lost himself in grief. To pull him out of it, Duke Logan of Marden sends Peter on a special assignment to the Silent Lodge—to scout out the movement of their enemy, Duke Weathers.

What he finds there is not the enemy, but a chance at a new life. Arvel might not be able to speak or hear, but he has no trouble letting Peter know exactly what he wants—Peter in his bed.

Peter discovers he’s not the only man in Arvel’s bed when Gareth shows up. Now Peter has a decision to make—stay in the middle of a hot ménage with Arvel and Gareth or strike out on his own.

But leaving the Silent Lodge is harder than he ever thought.

Buy Links
Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/Silent-Lodge-Company-Men-Book-ebook/dp/B01833WP1C/
ARe – https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-silentlodge-1937840-340.html

Contest — I’m giving away a Yule present – a lovely necklace and a ebook of The Mercenary’s Tale, book one in the series In The Company of Men.
Here’s the necklace… It’s a 3 strand turquoise necklace.
To win, just LIKE, COMMENT or FOLLOW this blog to enter.

Other Ladies Prizes – on their blog days —
Belinda McBride Bad Angels books in E-format (3 books; 1 prize)
Emilia Mancini Seducing Kate in E-format
Jianne Carlo Manhandled, Sinner, and Prymal Lust in E-formats (3 prizes)
KaLyn Cooper Cancun Series in E-format (3 books; 1 prize)
Robin Danner Bound and Christmas Spirits in E-format (2 prizes)
Sara Daniel Captivating the CEO in E-format and One Night with the Bridal Party paperback copy (US only for print copy)
Tami Lund Into the Light in E-format and a silver paw print bracelet (US residents only for the bracelet). If winner is outside US – 2 EBooks – Into the Light & Dawning of Light, first & second in the Lightbearer series.
Annie Anthony One Exquisite Night in E-format and a burgundy surprise box (you’ll appreciate this surprise when you read the book!). US or Canadian residents only to win the box. Winner must be at least 18 years old. (2 prizes)

Grand Prize: a Diamond Necklace. Yep, you read that right.

Winners will be selected by Random.org and selected Dec 19th, announced on Dec 19 & 20th on the weekend blog. Winner must be in Continental US and Canada, due to shipping costs.
Please leave your email so we can contact you.
Thanks for playing and Good Luck!

Taking the Stress out of the Holidays by Lynn Lorenz

The Holidays.

Just those two words fill a lot of us with feels. Gets our hearts racing, and not in a good way. We tremble. Our palms sweat. Eyes glaze over.
It’s not a pretty sight.

We dread them for so many reasons. Happier times that are no more. Family. Loneliness. Family. Expectations we can’t possibly meet. Family. Gifts.
Hey, I’m seeing a trend here.

No one has a perfect family. There is no Norman Rockwell world. That’s not real life, right? Well, sort of. I remember great holidays, both Christmas and Thanksgiving, when my family gathered together at my Grandmother’s house. The matriarch of our family, her house was the place we all gathered. My mom had two sisters, who had husbands and about six cousins, and they would come from Florida and No. Louisiana to New Orleans. It was a blast. Great food, fun conversations. As a child, she taught me how to play cards – rummy, spades, poker, crazy eights, and when I was finally old enough, pinochle. (It’s sort of like bridge.)

But time passed. My mother died in 1982. My grandmother died in 1985. And that was it. It was as if my family disappeared. The connection was lost. As my aunts established their own holidays, meeting at their houses, my brother and I were forgotten. We’d lost membership. Our traditions were gone. We were young adults, with no family of our own. Orphaned by people we’d spent our entire lives with, loving and begin loved.

It wrecked both my brother and me. We were all so close. But without my mom and my grandmother, I felt as if they hadn’t really loved us at all.

I married. It was my hubs, me and my brother. We met for dinner, swapped presents, went home. My hubs’ family lived in Australia, so no holiday’s with them. We did that for ten years, and then we had kids.

I thought, now’s the chance! New holiday traditions! So, like a sentimental fool, I tried to recreate those wonderful holidays. Lots of presents. Big tree and decorations all over the house. Huge meal. It was awful. Every holiday was so stressful. I’d cook for hours to get the food right. Dressing. Turkey. Sides. That no one ate. Seriously. My kids and hub do not like turkey. Or dressing. Cranberries. Sweet potatoes. Gak! I was in my own personal holiday hell. I’d lose hair, my temper, try so hard to do it all, and when I failed, it crushed me.

You really can’t go home again.

Because those aren’t the same people. Not the same time.
We were miserable. There were fights. Crying. Disappointments.
And that was me and hubs.
The kids were great, but they hated the traditional foods. My kids are their father’s in the food category, for sure.

We realized along the years, that we had to create our own personal family holiday traditions.
So we did. We looked long and hard at what made us so miserable. The fight about the big meal no one wanted to cook, much less eat.
The presents that were never right. Spending money of decorations we used for less than one month a year.

Hubs and I decided to change what we’d been doing. Eliminate the stress points. Make our lives easier.
So we went back to going out to dinner, but we went to Chinese restaurants. After all, my hubs father’s family is Jewish. No one had to cook, or clean!
We told the kids, who by this time were old enough to know who Santa was, to make a list of their toys, from most important to least. We set budgets. And we stuck to them. When the money ran out, that was the end of the gifts.
And we each made a list of what we wanted. Where to find it and what it costs. It’s even better when they find stuff online!! The kids love those iTune cards.
We took the surprise out of gift giving and when we did that, we took the disappointment out of it too. For everyone.
Happiness! Imagine. You actually got what you wanted most!

As for the decorations? About five years ago, I asked the kids to help decorate. There was this long silence. Then they said, “Mom, we really don’t like this stuff.” I said, “Even the tree?” and the nodded. In my heart, I was relieved. It wasn’t fun, frankly, and caused so much stress. About the same time, one of my best friends belonged to a church that was robbed a month before Christmas. They took the artificial trees, decorations, everything. The church membership were crushed, to say the least, because they suspected someone from their own congregation had done it. Now this is not a big church or a rich church. They were scrambling to find decorations in time for the holiday.
I asked the family, hey, do we really want/need to decorate? They said no. It’s really a pain. It’s not what Christmas is to us. So, I called my friend and told her come get this stuff. She came over, climbed in the attic with the kids, and hauled it all way. Several trees, boxes of bulbs, bags of garlands, and a crate of nativity scenes.

Now, our tradition is to wake up, have a lovely breakfast, no rush, relax, hot chocolate, and then open gifts. We hang out, then go to lunch, sometimes with a dear friend of mine and her daughter, who are also alone. After that, we all hit the movies and catch the latest blockbuster. We’ve seen all the Harry Potters and Lord of the Rings, and those Star Wars, and now, this Christmas, we’re going to see the new Star Wars movie!

We spend a wonderful morning together, enjoying ourselves, playing video games, reading on our Kindles, and just hanging out. Then share the rest of our day with friends.

It’s not the way I used to do it. And when I think of those good old days, I get a little misty. But when I look around at my family on Christmas morning, I realize…
It’s better.

If you’re under stress from the holidays, think about what you can do to remove it. It’s just not worth the pain, the hurt or the disappointment to keep dealing with the stress. It doesn’t have to be big and it can be many small things.

What would you do to take the stress out of your holiday?

Not Me by Lynn Lorenz

First, let me say there is no defense for plagiarism. It doesn’t just happen. You don’t accidentally take someone’s story and change the names and pronouns, switch a few sentences around, and then say, “Oops! Did I do that?” I’m pretty damn sure my laptop doesn’t have a F key for that.

No. All you can expect to hear are excuses, or what some might hope are reasons. When you say reasons, it makes it sound as if they are valid. Reasons are just excuses disguised in fake rational. There is only one basic reason to plagiarize someone’s work, and that’s to make money. And like so many bad things, money is usually the cause, or the reason. Lack of. Need for. I wish we all had great sales, then maybe such crimes wouldn’t exist. And in a tightening market, does it really surprise us that someone would do this?

See? Excuses.

What is the real answer? Why would someone do this? Why risk your good name, your reputation as a writer, the only thing we really have, to make some money? Hundreds? Thousands? Is any amount worth damaging your reputation? Destroying your career?

I can’t understand it. I couldn’t understand it, when in my corporate job, we were asked every year to sign a document saying we’d never taken bribes, or received gifts from companies, like Christmas hams or tickets to football games. Or failed to report them if we were offered them.
I thought, who would risk a steady job, good pay, and the respect of their co-workers for seats on the 50 yard line? I sure as hell wouldn’t. I figured it’d be my luck to get caught on the JumboTron, with that ham in my lap. I needed my salary, my health benefits, my friends’ respect. But someone must have, since there is this document. Someone, somewhere, broke the rules, and now we all had to stand up and say, “Not me.”

And fuck, it’s this. This is why it hurts other authors. Why it taints all of us, even if you didn’t co-write a book with her or even know her. Because on Facebook, I’ve witnessed a rash of authors stating, “Not me.” Of writers “signing” the document. It’s the horrible need that those of us who didn’t take the easy way out, who struggle every day to create characters and stories, must now assure everyone we know that we didn’t cheat.

Not me.

Of distancing ourselves, and our reputations, from the offender. Of taking that big step back and leaving that person standing alone, like the old comedy routine of the reluctant volunteer.

Only no one stepped back. This person stepped forward, out of the line. Intentionally. Made a choice as she sat in front of her computer to step over the line, no matter what her “reasons”.

Now, I see posts about readers who have doubts about all of this person’s books. Of returning them. Asking for their money back. Of deleting them.

And I wonder if my readers are doubting me. Doubting others. Doubting all of us authors. And that hurts me. It hurts all of us.

It sucks the big one.

But as much as I hate this, I understand how they feel, because they’ve been betrayed. Cheated. Insulted.

I have a copy of the Deuce book. It’s the only book by her I own. I think it cost me a few bucks. Do I want my money back? No. Not worth the email, for me.

I think, instead, I’ll keep it, right there on my Kindle. To remind me, every time I scroll past it, that there are some things more precious to me than a few bucks.

Like my reputation.

Lynn

My very first m/m romance – Re-release!! by Lynn Lorenz

This is the new cover!! It’s sexy and Drake is looking way dangerous. It’s out this week, August 6th, from Hartwood Publishing. They’ve taken on my In The Company of Men series (gay medieval romance) and adding new covers and offering it for reduced prices. This week, it’s up for pre-order at Amazon for $3.99 – http://www.amazon.com/Mercenarys-Tale-Company-Men-Book-ebook/dp/B012F6H6VM/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1438564315&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Mercenary%27s+Tale

If you’ve previously purchased it, I’d love you buy it again, but seriously, no need. Not that much has changed, other than some edits, and the smoking new cover. If you’ve never read this series and you love men with swords…no I mean real swords…swashbucklers who will fight to the death for their man, then you might enjoy these men.

Blurb –
Drake is a mercenary, selling his sword and his life to fight for another’s gain. He’s alone, and a bit jaded, but when Ansel walks into a tavern and asks Drake to help improve his skills, against all his better judgement, Drake takes him on. A mercenary’s life is short, he lives and dies by the sword and both men know it.

Excerpt –
I sat on the bench and leaned against the wall of the tavern, watching the other men talk, drink, and hire whores. All seemed to be locals, farmers, or artisans, come to the tavern to spend coin in pursuits of the flesh. All but one, a young man sitting alone at a table. He’d watched me, from under half-lidded eyes, ever since he’d arrived. His companion, a large black dog, lay beside, head resting on its paws.

The young man stood, walked to the counter, and spoke quiet words to the tavern keeper, the dog a black shadow that followed him. The old man glanced at me, nodded, spoke, and then turned away. My watcher turned to face me and leaned on the bar, perhaps estimating his chances.

I sighed and moved my hand to rest on the hilt of my short sword. It wouldn’t be the first or last time a young fool had tried to test his skill, and I’d become adept over the years at inflicting flesh wounds and scratches. I only kill when I’m being paid for it. I watched from the shadows as he pushed off and made his way across the tavern to my table with the dog trailing him.

The man was tall, but not as tall as I, nor as heavily muscled, and perhaps eight years my junior. Not quite filled out yet, I could see he’d possess the fullness of manhood in a few years. If he lived that long. I counted his weapons, one broadsword across his back, a short sword at his side, one throwing knife sheathed in a band across his chest, and the top of a blade’s hilt I spotted hidden in his boot. I wondered if I should count the dog.

He stopped in front of my table and placed his hand on the empty chair opposite me. The black animal stood also, as if waiting to be asked to sit.
“Are you Drake, the mercenary?” His strong, yet soft voice held no swagger, merely the accent of the southern lowlands.

“Who’s asking?”

He narrowed his eyes and peered into the shadows that hid my face.

“I am Ansel.” No hint of challenge shone in his brilliant blue eyes, nor cutting tone to his soft voice.

“Sit, Ansel, and tell me what brings you to my table.”

He pulled out the chair and sat, placing his hands on the table, palms down, to show he held no weapons. The dog lay down at his side, seemingly uninterested.

“I understand the Duke of Foray is calling for men. I wish to hire with him and am told you are on your way there also.”

“I hope you didn’t pay for that bit of information.”

“No. It was freely given.” For a moment, he flashed a smile, and the corners of his eyes crinkled.

Despite myself, I returned the smile and then hoped the shadows hid it.
“And what is it you want from me?”

“To travel with you, and perhaps train along the way.” He sat back in the chair, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t travel with anyone.”

The edges of his upturned lips fell just a little.

“Often,” I added. His smile returned, and oddly, I felt pleased. I glanced down at the dog, then back at him. “And I don’t train pups anymore.”

“I’m no pup. I’ve just returned from Moran.”

I leaned forward, brought my scarred face into the light, and stared hard at the man in front of me. He had survived the battle at Moran?
“I lost a few friends there,” I said with a nod.

“I, also.” He returned my nod. “I am no stranger to battle, Lord Drake.”

He’d used my formal title, one I hadn’t used since I was eighteen, and I wondered what he knew of me and who had told him.

“It’s just Drake. Well, Ansel, how long have you been a killer for hire?”

He didn’t blink at my bluntness or at the ragged scar that ran down one side of my face, though I could track his eyes’ movement as he took it in.

“Since I left home at ten and eight. I am now twenty and two.”

Four years and he’d survived, so he must have some skill. Most didn’t stay alive past their first battle. Young men trained in pretty strokes of blade, but couldn’t move fast enough, keep their heads, or swing wild enough to survive in the heat of a bloodbath.
If he was telling the truth.

“The war between Foray and Istend will be fierce. You must know that to ask for additional training.” At least he was no fool.

“Aye. And from the best.” He smiled again and tilted his head in a gesture of regard.

His blue eyes burned into me, and I was grateful for the table between us. I felt a small prick of fear on the back of my neck and tamped it down as I scanned the room. No one in the tavern was paying us mind, or could possibly know what I was feeling. Even I wasn’t sure about that. After all, I had a reputation, and in my business it could mean the difference between eating or not eating if you weren’t hired, or having no one at your back if the men you fought with didn’t trust you.

“That may be, Ansel.” I inclined my head back to him as our eyes met.

What was I doing? This could only end badly. I should send him away and be done with him before trouble started.
Catching the eye of a young whore, I signaled for her to come to the table. With an eager grin, she swayed her way toward me, moving around the tables, a smile on her face. She wasn’t pretty, but then, whores never are. Still, who fucks a face?
I stood as she reached the table and pulled her to me. She wrapped a thin arm around my waist. His eyes flicked to the bulge in my leather breeches and then back to my face. She giggled and looked at Ansel, giving him a bigger smile, but clung to my money and me.

“I leave tomorrow. Meet me here in the morn.”

He stood, glanced at the woman, and his eyebrows drew together. “I’ll be here.”

“Where do you bed tonight?” Was I thinking of offering him to share my room? When had I lost my mind?

“I have a place in the stable.”

I left with a nod, the whore at my side, and made my way to the stairs. As I climbed to my room, I could feel those brilliant blue eyes following me.

—-*—-

This is a tale of love, lost and daring to love again. Of finding what you never knew you needed. Of family.

I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Finally, a book release! Well, a re-release, actually! by Lynn Lorenz

God, it’s been a long summer. If you didn’t know, or watched my FB posts, this summer we put our house up for sale, rented an apartment we can’t move into until mid August, and got in our car and took a family vacation road trip.
Sounds great until you realize you have little to no time to do your writer work. I’m not stupid. We managed to drive, stay one night, then drive and stay several nights, where I was supposed to get all the writing, editing, self-publishing, promoing, etc. done. Sounds like a plan, right?
No. I am stupid. I only got the most pressing of things done. After all, we had a country to see. Geysers, rocks, prong horn antelope, seals, the Pacific Ocean, Cadillacs stuck in the ground.

Now, we’ve landed in a hotel for the next few weeks and no longer driving. So lots of time for writing, right? Yeah. No.
Two young adults learning to drive, seeing their friends, going to movies, no where to work because every space in our tiny room is taken.
How we haven’t managed to kill each other is beyond me. If I weren’t so tired of driving, I’d get in the car and take off down the highway.

If it weren’t for my publishers I’d be spinning my metaphorical wheels trying to get something out to readers. And producing nothing. Doing donuts in the parking lot.

On August 6th, Hartwood Publishing will re-release my very first book, originally published by Loose Id. It should be up for pre-order soon. I’ll post about it on FB and if you’re on my newsletter list I’ll send one out telling you all the details and links.
Here’s the cover!! I love it. He’s Drake, the mercenary, all sexy as hell and dangerous as fuck.
The Mercenary’s Tale is set in medieval times when men knew how to use a sword, and being gay meant a death penalty. It’s the first book in my series In The Company of Men.

If you bought the original ebook, or print book, this doesn’t have much changed in it. It’s been re-edited. But if you don’t have it, you’re in luck. It’s nearly half the price of the original ebook. And fingers crossed, it’ll be out in print and audio book soon too.

With this release, I feel as if I’ve made some progress through the massive pile of work I have yet to tackle. Before we move into the apartment, take the kids back to college, go to the UK for the UK meetup, come back, and drive to San Diego for the GRL. Plenty of time!

I think I need a vacation.

A new mini series!! From Lynn Lorenz

So I had this idea in my head for ages. I wanted to write some short stories (like around 10K or so) set here in Houston. I wanted them to focus on a gay BDSM club. I wrote the first one, which inspired the second one, but wasn’t sure about the name of the club. I had one name, then found out it had been used, so I had to come up with a new one.

I also contracted the lovely talented Lex Valentine of Winterheart Designs to do my cover – same cover, just different titles – the names of the two men of that story -and she did a fabulous job, as you can see. In fact, the building inspired me to think of the new title.

My husband helped me, giving me a list of names, and I picked Doms of The Chambers. The building Lex used on the cover looked like one that had previously been something else, something classy. Like a law firm from the late 1800’s-1900’s. Now, it’s doing duty as Houston’s premiere gay BDSM club. And since it’s set in Houston I had fun bringing in a bit of the cowboy! So the members all wear silver cowboy buckles, with the scales of justice (legal) and the Lone Star (Texas) engraved on them. Yeehaw!

I’ll be releasing the first two stories soon. I have some more work to do on them, formatting and such, but I’m so excited! These are my first original self-pub stories and I’m pricing them at $.99. I hope to have a total of six, but who knows!

The first book is Geoff and Kit. One of the members of The Chambers has died from cancer, and he’s made a very strange request of Geoff Hanover. Geoff can walk away or fulfill the last request of a fellow Dom.

The second book is Harlan and Robby. They’ve been together for two years. Robby is Harlan’s boy and they’re as happy as can be in their life together. But when tragedy strikes The Chambers, Harlan rethinks his relationship with Robby.

These stories will be available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, AllRomance ebooks, and iBooks. I’ll let you know when they’re live! I hope you’ll enjoy them!