Back out now: The Boy Series, and the Dark Space Series

It's been a hectic kind of few months, but I'm happy to announce at last that the following books are all back up for sale at your preferred vendors: 

The Good Boy

The Boy Who Belonged

Please note that the short story tie-in The Naughty Boy, will be available as part of The Boy Who Belonged! 

And a huge shoutout here to L.C. Chase, who gave us such amazing new covers for this series! 

Dark Space

Darker Space

And for anyone who was waiting on a paperback edition of Darker Space, as soon as the proof arrives and I can check I didn't screw it up, a paperback will be available through Amazon! 

And all my gratitude to Bree Archer, who took the old covers and edited them so I was able to re-use them. I'm delighted I didn't have to ditch cover Brady as part of the process of republishing! 

Back home, and back to work!

Well, I’m back from GRL. Okay, I know everyone’s probably already finished talking about GRL since they all got home ages ago, but I only got home last week. If I had to fly halfway around the world to go to GRL, I was taking some extra time to see some of the US while I was at it.

I met some wonderful people at GRL, way too numerous to mention here. Seriously, I’m not mentioning names because I know that I’ll leave someone out. A special shout out has to go to JA Rock and Lori Toland, my roomies. And, of course, my favourite roomie - the professor. OMG, look at that face: 

It was fantastic to meet all those people I’ve only ever met online before – the readers, the bloggers, and the other writers who make the MM community a great place to be.

I had quite a few fangirl moments, and was totally gobsmacked when some people had them in relation to me. In fact, I think  I’m still gobsmacked about that. To me, writing is something that happens at odd hours of the night when I’m in my pyjamas and rocking out to eighties music. The idea that it somehow produces real books, let alone real fans, is still incredible to me.

So thankyou to everyone I met, and, if I somehow managed to miss you, I’m going to try very hard to make San Diego.

Meanwhile, while I took the month off from blogging because I was having too much fun, Brandon Mills versus the V-Card happened. JA Rock and I are writing the third book in the series now – Liam McDermott versus Authority. It’s a return to the kink of the first book, and maybe a little more angst. Let’s just say Liam has some issues.

JA and I are also working on another book in the Boy series – it’s time to revisit Lane and Derek, and Brin and Ferg and, naturally, Mr. Zimmerman. While I don’t want to give away any spoilers at this point, I just want to say that Mr. Zimmerman is going to get soul mate. And, in other Boy news, The Boy Who Belonged is now available in paperback. Also included in the paperback is the Brin-centric short story, The Naughty Boy. Yay!

It’s the season of short stories, apparently. JA and I have one coming out in December, Fall on Your Knees. It’s M/M/m, and a part of Loose Id’s Rated XXXmas anthology, which is so far scheduled for release on December 16.   And it’s a total, total kinkfest. You will never look at gingerbread the same way again. You’re welcome!

Meanwhile, Heidi Belleau and I wrote a short story for Riptide’s BDSM anthology, Rules to Live By. Our story is called The Harder They Fall, and did anyone say daddy kink?

I'll be sharing more about both the anthologies as soon as I can! 

So, that’s the state of play at the moment. I’m home, and I’m trying to get as much work done as I can. And I am not at all spending too many hours a day reading Sterek fan fiction. Or writing it. Not. At. All…

Sterek!

The State of Play

I'm not usually one of those people who writes down the things she has achieved during the year. Mostly because that takes a level of organisation that I just don't have. Also, I can't find a pen. Ever. 

But here's how things stand for me at the end of 2013: 

Books Published: 2 (All with J.A. Rock) 

The Good Boy, and The Boy Who Belonged. 

Also The Naughty Boy, but that was a short. 

So let's call it two and a half. And while we're at it, thanks to everyone who made this happen for The Boy Who Belonged: 

Freebies: 2

Here are two very different animals: Falling Away and The Last Rebellion. (Psst: follow the links to download them!) 

Books Written: 

Mark Cooper versus America (with J.A. Rock) - out on January 28 from Loose Id. 

King of Dublin (with Heidi Belleau) - out in February 24 from Riptide. 

When All The World Sleeps (with J.A. Rock) - out on March 24 from Riptide. 

Sweetwater - part one written and part two still percolating - looking at a September release from Riptide. 

Bliss (with Heidi Belleau)

The Two Gentlemen of Altona (with J.A. Rock) 

Currently Writing: 

Merchant of Death (with J.A. Rock) 

Sweetwater, part two. 

Dark Space 2, a sequel. 

And two untitled sci-fi projects that are similar in theme, but very different in tone. 

And let's not forget The List, which is a Google Doc where J.A. Rock and I put all our ideas...even the crazy ones with tentacles. The List has two parts. The first, called LIST O' PROJECTS TO COMPLETED, has ten items on it. The second part, called LIST O'POSSIBLE PROJECTS TO BE CONSIDERED FOR THE REAL LIST O'PROJECTS, has one single item on it only. But it's a doozy. 

So, I'm thinking 2014 will not be the year I run out of ideas... 

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to print this post out and give it to my mum to explain how I never get any housework done. 

The Boy Who Belonged is here! Read an excerpt.

The Boy Who Belonged is now live on the Loose Id site, and should be available at third party retailers very soon! And the book that started it all, The Good Boy, is currently on sale at Loose Id as well. 

And here are the opening few pages of The Boy Who Belonged, setting the scene for the return of one of our favourite characters from The Good Boy. This guy: 

"Angina!" 

Derek Fields opened the door to find his sister standing on the doorstep, looking more harried than usual. 

“It’s Paul,” Christy announced breathlessly, shaking her head and scowling. “He’s booked a trip to Fiji for us for Christmas! Fiji, Derek!” 

“Um,” Derek said, opening the door to let her in. “The bastard?” 

Christy elbowed him as she stepped inside. She dumped her overflowing shoulder bag on the floor and headed through to the kitchen. “Your sarcasm isn’t helping!” 

“Well, that’s not what sarcasm is for,” Derek said. He followed her through. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to Fiji for Christmas with the same man you were referring to only last week as Boyfriend McAwesome. Are you sure it’s help you need, not congratulations?” 

Christie snorted. She took a glass from the dish rack and filled it from the tap. “God, this place is a mess!” 

Derek looked around the kitchen. The breakfast table was piled high with Lane’s textbooks, and the bench was covered in last night’s takeaway containers, but it was hardly a pigsty. And Christy, who had an actual pigsty at her house, which doubled as an overflow for the animal shelter she ran, was in no position to judge. 

“Oh shit,” he said. “The animals. Of course.” 

“Of course,” Christy said. “Look, Rachel has agreed to move in and house-sit, since she’s done it before, but there’s a problem.” 

“What problem?” 

“She’s done it before,” Christy said. She sighed. “So she’s refusing to take Mr. Zimmerman.” 

Mr. Zimmerman was a macaw and was legendary throughout Christy’s neighborhood for the stream of foul-mouthed abuse that he could dish out on unsuspecting visitors. Like the mailman. Or the Girl Scouts. Or, once, the FBI. 

“No,” Derek said. 

“Please!” Christy actually clasped her hands together. “Mom’s going to stay with Aunt Greta, so she can’t take him, and I really, really, really want to go to Fiji with Paul!” 

“Can’t you put him in the shelter while you’re gone?” 

“Derek, people visit the shelter. It’s not like I can convince parents to take a puppy home for their kids if they’ve just been called filthy syphilitic whores, is it?” She widened her eyes. “I’ll buy you the best present!” 

Derek sighed and shook his head, but he already knew he was beaten. “You’d better.” 

Christy hugged him. “You are the best brother ever!” 

Derek grunted and brought his arms slowly up to hug her back. “I know. But keep in mind I’m only saying yes because the bird’ll behave for Lane.” 

It was true. While the macaw spent all day, every day repeating phrases he’d learned from his crotchety former owner and namesake, Mr. Z tended to tone it down when Lane was around. Just a couple of weeks ago, Derek had overheard him mutter to Lane, “You’re a good man, Corporal.” And Lane had thanked him. 

But then, Lane had a way with animals even Christy envied. 

“Exactly,” Christy said, stepping back. “And Lane likes him, right?” 

“Lane doesn’t have it in him to hate an animal.” Or a person, for that matter. Though Derek could name a few people off the top of his head Lane ought to hate. And it wasn’t so much that Lane believed the best of everyone, but rather that he tended to believe the worst of himself. Derek still thought the only time Lane truly relaxed was when he was around Christy’s menagerie. Which was frustrating, since Derek liked to think he had at least as much to offer Lane as any one-eyed cat or split-eared dog. 

But Derek kept reminding himself to be patient. He and Lane had only been together six months, and given all the shit that had gone down over the summer, Derek was impressed their relationship was going as well as it was. 

Christy cocked her head. “What’s wrong?” 

Derek shook his head and forced a smile. “When does our houseguest arrive?” 

“Does Wednesday work for you? We’ll be back the twenty-seventh.” 

“Whoa! You’re gonna be gone a whole month?” 

“Three weeks.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Paul thinks I need a long break.” 

Derek sighed. “Fine.” 

“Thank you, Derek. Seriously.” Christy turned at a soft jingling down the hall. Andy padded into the foyer, head down, tail wagging, nails clicking on the linoleum. “Well, it took you long enough,” she said to the dog. 

Andy stopped about a foot from her and stretched, spreading his front toes and yawning. 

“Oh please,” Christy said. “You couldn’t make it another three steps?” 

Derek grinned. “He’s become a total couch potato. I think Lane slips him too many table scraps.” 

Christy crouched and scratched Andy’s ears. “Don’t you let him do that,” she cautioned. “Bad for their coats, bad for their behavior, and bad for their metabolism.” 

“Come on. Like you’ve never given your zoo your leftovers.” 

Christy twisted her mouth. “I’m just saying, he’s definitely put on some weight.” She patted Andy’s stomach and pursed her lips as Andy licked her face. “Unlike Lane. So maybe Lane ought to be eating that food himself instead of feeding it to the dog.” 

“I know. But you try reasoning with him.” 

Christy stood. “Lane’s so hard to reason with.” 

Derek snorted. “Impossible, right?” 

“No respect for anyone else.” 

“Horrible attitude.” 

“Refuses to follow orders.” 

Derek narrowed his eyes at her. 

Christy snickered. “Sorry, I wasn’t even thinking about it like that.” 

There were moments Derek regretted coming out about his BDSM interests to his mother and sister. It had been fun to have Christy commiserate back when Derek’s love life had consisted of a string of one-night stands courtesy of boundlove.com. But now Derek was in a long-term relationship with someone he loved, and he was more than a little embarrassed to think about what his family might assume he did with--and to--Lane. 

“You want some breakfast?” Derek asked. 

Christy shook her head. “I gotta get going.” 

“So you just stopped by to beg me to take your parrot for three weeks.” 

“Basically, yes. I have to work today.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Thought this was your day off?” 

“Nothing gets done when I’m not there.” 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Thank God you’re going on vacation. Please tell me you won’t have an international cell phone. I can just see you calling the shelter twenty times a day...” 

“Oh stop. No, I won’t have a phone. I might e-mail them occasionally.” 

Derek snorted. The staff at the shelter probably needed Christy’s holiday as desperately as she did. “Do yourself a favor and don’t go near a computer.” 

Christy gave him a dubious look, then smiled. “Maybe. So thanks, and I’ll catch you later, okay?” 

“Okay.” Derek stifled a yawn. Who knocked on someone else’s door at eight a.m. on a Saturday morning? The worst sister in the world, that was who. “Don’t work too hard.” 

“I won’t!” She sailed out the front door. 

Derek closed it after her and enjoyed the quiet for a moment. It was broken by nothing but the soft jingling of Andy’s tags as he headed back for the bedroom. 

“Breakfast,” Derek told him instead, and the dog’s yellow ears pricked up. Derek fixed Andy his breakfast, then left the back door ajar so he could head out into the yard. He left Andy crunching away at his food, scrubbed his hands through his hair, and went back into the bedroom. 

Lane was still asleep, lying curled on his side. He was frowning, his right hand gripping the sheet tightly. As Derek watched, he shook his head and said in a faint but forceful voice, “No!” 

Typical of Lane, even his nightmares were quiet. They’d been becoming less frequent in the past few months, but stress sometimes triggered a spate of them, and Lane had an exam this week. Not that he should have worried. He studied hard. 

Derek lay down beside him, shifting close so that Lane’s bare back was pressed up against his chest. He rubbed Lane’s arm until Lane released the sheet, sighed, and rolled over so that he was cuddled against Derek. Derek breathed in the scent of his hair. 

Six months ago he’d been complaining to Christy that he was single, that he was drinking too much and trying to pretend that he didn’t notice when he talked to himself just so the house didn’t seem so empty. And now he had a boyfriend and a dog. The whole domestic package. Or, as his friend Brin had called it, the gays’ answer to the nuclear family. Derek had pointed out that was an outdated stereotype, and that these days gays could have marriages and kids and an actual nuclear family. The debate had ended when Brin had announced that he was an outdated stereotype too, thank you very much, and Ferg, Brin’s partner, had laughed so much that wine came out his nose. Derek had laughed as well, until he’d realized he’d just said the M-word, not to mention the K-word, in front of his new boyfriend. His very young, barely old-enough-to-drink-legally new boyfriend. But Lane hadn’t looked too spooked. 

Derek smiled at the memory and lifted his hand to stroke Lane’s hair. Lane snuffled in his sleep. 

Six months ago, Derek had lost his savings to what the media was calling the Magic Moredock investment scam. Laura and Stephen Moredock had ripped away what little financial security he’d built, and he was never going to see that money again. But he’d gotten Lane. 

Most people still thought Landon Moredock was as guilty as his parents. The people who didn’t know him. But Derek knew Lane now. There had been moments, in the beginning, when he’d wondered. Of course he’d wondered. There had been moments as well when he’d resented Landon Moredock for walking around Belleview like he was innocent. Like he didn’t have other people’s money stashed away somewhere. A part of him had really hated the kid. 

And then he’d met him. 

Derek breathed in Lane’s scent and closed his eyes. 

And now there were lazy Saturday mornings and takeaway containers and bedhead and feeding the dog. Which was as close to perfect as anything. 

Against him, Lane stirred. “Morning.” 

“Morning,” Derek murmured. 

Lane snuggled closer. “Where’s Andy?” 

“Having breakfast.” 

Lane drew back, smiling. His eyes were still glazed with sleep. “Good.” 

Derek watched him expectantly. Good because Lane didn’t want Andy to go hungry? Or good because there was nothing more off-putting than having the dog stare at them when they fucked? 

The second one. 

Lane pushed Derek so that he rolled onto his back, and straddled his hips. He yawned, stretching, and smiled down at Derek. Rubbed himself against Derek’s hardening cock. “Want to have a shower with me?” 

Derek gripped Lane’s hips. “Not right now.” 

Lane leaned down. “I have morning breath.” 

“I don’t care.” Derek tilted his head up, and Lane kissed him gently. Chastely. Then he sat up again, smiling. Derek narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tease.” 

Lane’s smile broadened. “Me? Never!” 

Beautiful kid. 

Derek felt guilty sometimes for thinking of Lane as a kid. But Lane was a lot younger, and it satisfied something deep in Derek to care for him. To feel older, responsible, needed. All right, sometimes he hated feeling older. Feeling old. But he trusted himself with Lane. Trusted himself to love Lane, not just Lane’s youth or beauty. 

Derek wrapped an arm around Lane’s back and pulled him down onto his chest. Lane laughed against Derek’s throat, and Derek patted his ass briskly. “Christy says stop giving Andy table scraps.” 

“Derek.” Lane’s voice was muffled. 

“What?” 

Lane raised his head. “Andy likes them.” 

Derek grinned. “I’m just telling you what Christy said.” 

“He likes nice things. He hasn’t had them before.” 

Derek dug his fingers into Lane’s ribs, then slid one hand between their bodies to stroke Lane’s cock through his track pants. Lane bit his lip, clutching fistfuls of Derek’s T-shirt. With his free hand, Derek patted Lane’s ass again, letting Lane know he was up for adding a little spice to their morning fuck if Lane was. But Lane didn’t push his ass up or nod silently the way he sometimes did to let Derek know he wanted a spanking. Just tugged at the waistband of Derek’s sweats. 

Derek moaned as Lane’s hand brushed his cock. “We’re also taking care of the bird,” he said. “For the next three weeks.” 

“Mr. Zimmerman?” Lane’s hand stilled. Derek immediately wished he hadn’t brought this up now. Shit was getting a little too domestic if they were going to try carrying on a conversation about pet-sitting while they were fucking. 

“Yup.” 

“That’s great!” 

“Is it?” 

“He’ll be good company.” 

“Are we thinking of the same Mr. Zimmerman?” 

Lane laughed and lowered his head onto Derek’s chest once more. “I like him.” Lane lay there, legs splayed, and his breathing deepened. Was he falling asleep? 

He worked too much. School, plus clinical practice at the veterinary hospital on the west side of Belleview, plus his job at Taco Hub. And the nightmare, which had probably hurt his sleep. Poor kid. 

Derek rubbed Lane’s back until Lane was snoring softly on top of him, then rolled him onto the bed and curled around him. Lane didn’t wake again until Andy returned to the room, tags jingling, and leaped up onto the bed, wedging himself into the nonexistent space between Lane and Derek. 

“Go away,” Derek hissed. Andy looked at him. “You have a dog bed.” 

“Andy,” Lane murmured, rolling over and slinging an arm around the dog. Andy licked his face, his short gold fur tickling Derek’s nose until Derek had to turn away. 

It was out of some goddamn made-for-TV movie, the way shy, damaged Lane had bonded with skittish, aloof Andy. Derek had never been inclined to own a dog before, but there’d been no question of adopting Andy after what the dog and Lane had done for each other. 

From forever alone to instant, gay nuclear family in only six months. Not bad. Derek smiled. 

Lane dozed off again with his hand on Andy’s side. Derek placed his hand on top of Lane’s, and the three of them slept. 

Copyright © J.A. Rock & Lisa Henry

The Boy Who Belonged

Yes, it's a cover, courtesy of Fiona Jayde, who also did the cover for The Good Boy. 

December 17, you guys! Mark your calendars! (Mine's still on June, but you might be more organised than I am.) 

I always like getting covers. They're like Christmas presents. They're like that odd sense of anticipation you got as a kid, when you knew what you wanted but you were afraid to get your hopes up in case it was underwear again. But then it turned out it was a bike, just like you asked for! 

And no, I'm not just making that analogy because The Boy Who Belonged is a Christmas story. 

Okay, fine, I am. You got me. 

Also, it's starting to feel a lot like Christmas, right? I say that as an Australian, since we don't celebrate Halloween much, and don't have a Thanksgiving at all, so there are no pesky holidays I need to get out of the way first. No, Christmas is the next cab off the rank for me.

And as much as I dislike the fact that the Christmas displays are already in the shops, it really is starting to feel like that time of the year. By which I mean, of course, the following: 

1. It's getting hot. 

2. The mangoes are almost ripe. 

3. The rain has come. 

I've heard about these white Christmases though. One of these days I'm going to get me one of those. 

Oh, and I should add, if you can stand any more of my rambling, you should visit A.B. Gayle's blog, where I'm doing a lot more of it! 

Dark Space - now in dead tree format

What is it about a paperback that still feels more real than an ebook? 

Is is the weight? Is is the smell? Is it the way that I can now stroke Brady's face without accidentally turning the page on my Kindle? 

Whatever it is, you can now do it as well. Dark Space is out in paperback! You can pick it up here from Amazon. 

In other news, The Boy Who Belonged is now live on the Loose Id website. No cover art yet, but I'll be sharing that as soon as it's done. 

Twenty-one year-old Lane Moredock finally has a normal life. Six months after he was wrongly made a suspect in his parents’ Ponzi scheme, he’s settled down with his older boyfriend, Derek, and is working and attending school. But his happiness is threatened when his mother launches a Christmastime PR campaign to help appeal her prison sentence, and asks introverted Lane to be part of it.

Derek Fields has his hands full taking Santa photos, bird-sitting his sister’s foul-mouthed macaw, and helping Lane prepare for a television interview neither of them wants him to do. As he eases Lane through his anxiety, he worries that Lane sees him as a caretaker rather than a boyfriend, and that their age difference really does matter. He and Lane compensate for the stress in their lives by taking their D/s relationship to new levels--a relationship that Lane’s mother insists he should be ashamed of.

As Christmas draws nearer, the pressure builds. Pushy elves. Snarky subs. A bad fight. A parrot in peril. How the hell is Derek going to give Lane a perfect Christmas when the Moredock legacy threatens to pull them apart before the new year?

The Boy Who Belonged is scheduled for release on December 17. 

The Boy Who Belonged - Coming Soon

So, J.A. Rock and I have been crazy-busy lately (mostly crazy), and we've written a sequel to The Good Boy, which is under contract from Loose Id. It's called The Boy Who Belonged, and here is the unofficial blurb: 

"Angina!" 

Twenty-one year-old Lane Moredock finally has a normal life. Six months after he was wrongly made a suspect in his parents’ Ponzi scheme, he’s settled down with his older boyfriend, Derek, and is working and attending school. But his happiness is threatened when his mother launches a Christmastime PR campaign to help appeal her prison sentence, and asks introverted Lane to be part of it.

Derek Fields has his hands full taking Santa photos, bird-sitting his sister’s foul-mouthed macaw, and helping Lane prepare for a television interview neither of them wants him to do. As he eases Lane through his anxiety, he worries that Lane sees him as a caretaker rather than a boyfriend, and that their age difference really does matter. He and Lane compensate for the stress in their lives by taking their D/s relationship to new levels--a relationship that Lane’s mother insists he should be ashamed of.

As Christmas draws nearer, the pressure builds. Pushy elves. Snarky subs. A bad fight. A parrot in peril. How the hell is Derek going to give Lane a perfect Christmas when the Moredock legacy threatens to pull them apart before the new year?

Yay for Christmas stories! The course of true love never runs smooth. Particularly when you add Mr Zimmerman to the mix. 

An open letter to J.A. Rock (and all of America)

Dear J.A., 

Thanks so much for the public apology on your blog. You are, of course, right to be sorry. You were wrong. About everything. And all it took for you to admit it was a packet of Freddo Frogs and a small wooden wombat. 

J.A., you will notice that in the contract I sent you for The Boy Who Belonged, there are more cheap bribes examples of my largess. This is a pre-emptive strike, because here are some more Australian words that I promise are real. 

Arvo. As in, "I'll see you this arvo". The word "afternoon" has too many damned syllables in it, and if there's one thing we Aussies hate, it's wasting valuable time with syllables. We have better things to be doing. Like building boats out of beer cans and then racing them in a harbour full of crocodiles. 

Source: The Daily Telegraph

Or, in order to avoid crocodiles entirely, staging maritime battles in a dry riverbed. 

Source: The Henley on Todd

See? Always thinking, us Aussies. 

Anyway, as much as I'd love to stay and gloat about your apology, I've got to run. I think there was something off in that sanga... 

Sanga. A sandwich. As in, "I ate a Vegemite sanga for lunch and now I feel crook."

Crook. Sick. For reasons of possible sickness, see above. 

The duck's guts. Awesome. I don't know why the sanga made me crook. They are usually the duck's guts. 

So anyway, I chucked a sickie. Went to a barbie instead, threw back a coldie, and watched the footy with some mates from Brissie. Got on the grog a bit, and then I got in a blue with this  sparky, Macca, who was being a real lair, and broke my sunnies. Got a lift home with Bazza in his ute so at least I didn't have to go Shank's pony maaaaaaaaate----- 

*composes self*

Well, I seem to have wrestled control of the blog back from my inner bogan for the time being. Those of you who are still with me will have noticed that yes, JA and I are still having unresolved language difficulties. Hopefully we will resolve some of them in Mark Cooper Versus America, but, really, at this point it's less of an exercise in tolerance and more a game of oneupmanship. (Don't tell her, but I plan to break out the word "celsius" and win!) 

Also, we've got a contract on The Boy Who Belonged, which is a sequel to The Good Boy, and finds Derek and Lane preparing for their first Christmas together. Oh...and they have a very evil houseguest. Who can it be? 

Spoiler alert: 

Yay! It's Mr Zimmerman!!!!!!