Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Brotherly Love

Excerpt from He Ain't Heavy by J.P. Bowie

Chapter One

Brad McKinley was nervous. He'd told his brother Duncan he wouldn't be, but he couldn't lie to himself. Now, within a few minutes his brother would be here, they would go over again how they were going to break the news to their parents, then they'd get in Duncan's car and make the two hour trip to where their parents, Linda and Thomas McKinley, lived in Pasadena.
Brad lurched to his feet from his desk chair and began pacing around the small spare room he used as his home office. This wasn't going to be easy, and just how his folks would take the news he could only guess. His mother would most likely cry at first, but he was sure she would eventually accept what he had to tell them. His father, well, that was a very different story. Thomas McKinley was an extremely conservative man in both his business and personal life. His political views were most definitely to the right of center, his moral views based on "family values" and a rigid belief that if everyone was more "God-fearing" there would be fewer problems in the world.
At their last Thanksgiving dinner together he'd told his sons that he worked to uphold Proposition 8 and had made it clear that in his opinion "All this carrying on about gay rights, gay soldiers, gay marriage and other such nonsense shouldn't be paraded in front of decent people's faces."

Brad and Duncan had exchanged glances, but remained silent. However, it was after listening to their father's rant that Duncan had fumed, and on their drive back to San Diego said to Brad, "He has to be told he can't say things like that in front of us anymore."
"It won't change his mind about anything," Brad replied in protest.
"It doesn't matter. He has to be told. Don't worry, Brad..." Duncan embraced his brother. "He's not going to disinherit you or anything like that."
Brad wasn't so sure about that. Not that he really cared about inheriting his father's wealth. Yes, there was a lot of it. Thomas McKinley had amassed a huge fortune by savvy trading over the years, just how vast the brothers had no way of knowing, as their father never talked about it.
But both Brad and Duncan were successful in their own right. Five years ago, they had started a small publishing house together, McKinley Publications, a business that, although rocky at first, had grown into a respected source of both fiction and nonfiction books along with a small, but burgeoning gay-oriented press. Of course, that part of their success had earned their father's scorn, if not his suspicion. Not for one moment would Thomas McKinley believe that either of his sons was gay. Such a thing wasn't possible, had never been heard of in the McKinley family, ever.

"So, who's going to go first?" Duncan asked after he'd arrived at Brad's San Diego condo that overlooked the verdant landscapes of Balboa Park.
"You're older, so it should be you," Brad replied with a faint smile.
He was still nervous, but in his brother's company he always felt more secure. After all, they'd shared this secret from their teens, protected one another from bullies, commiserated with each other over failed romances. Brad often wondered how he'd ever have survived his teenage years without Duncan. He loved his brother so much, sometimes it hurt. When Duncan had once talked of moving away after graduation, Brad had been devastated and begged him not to go through with his plan.
"I knew you'd say that," Duncan said, gazing with affection at his younger brother. They were about the same height, Duncan only slightly taller, both with athletic physiques. But whereas Duncan's hair was straight and dark, almost black, his eyes green and his skin a faintly olive sheen, Brad sported a mop of blond curls, blue eyes and a creamy, fair complexion. It was little wonder that people were often surprised when they found out the men were brothers.
"Okay," he said, "I'll make it easy for you. I'll tell them, then before the shit hits the fan and Dad has a stroke, you'll jump in and add your confession to mine."
Brad gave him a worried look. "You think Dad will have a stroke?"
"Maybe not a total stroke, but he will go apoplectic for sure. How could he not? Mr. True Blue Right Wing himself being told he has two gay sons? The odds are he'll implode in some form or another."
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea, Duncan."
Duncan frowned. "Don't chicken out on me now, for Pete's sake. This was all your idea, remember? You said you didn't want to live a lie any longer."
"I know, I know..." Brad started pacing again. "It's Mom I keep worrying about. I know she'll get over it sooner than Dad, but she's going to have to put up with his ranting for days, maybe weeks, months...maybe forever."
Duncan rose from the armchair he'd been sprawled in and put his arms around Brad.
"It'll be okay," he murmured, his lips close to Brad's ear. "The worst he can do is tell us to never darken his doorstep again, and you know Mom won't put up with that."

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Valentine's Day Blog (or near enough)

I've written several seasonal stories, Christmas, Valentine's etc, but my new one, Laying Down for The Law released by MLR Press is among my favorites.

Steve Reynolds has a great job, a snazzy apartment in Los Angeles, and some good friends. What he doesn't have is a date for the upcoming office Valentine's Day party. When he tackles a burglar in his apartment, he winds up in the arms of LAPD Officer Richard Malone. Has Cupid brought Steve the ideal Valentine's date-or a man who might just turn Steve's ordered life upside down?

Excerpt:

February 4th 2011



I hate it when I can't sleep. All kinds of crazy things go tumbling through my mind--things I should have said, things I should have done, things I shouldn't have said or done. This particular night was one of those. I tossed and turned 'til I eventually gave up, and was about to turn the bedside lamp back on and pick up the book I'd been reading before trying to reach the land of Nod.

Then I heard it.

At first I wasn't sure what it was. A rustling sound. Had I left the living room window open? No, it was a tad too cold outside for that. I lay in the dark, perfectly still, ears straining to pick up the slightest trace of any movement beyond my open bedroom door. I heard it again, and this time it most definitely sounded like someone was walking across the carpeted living room floor.

Oh, shit.

Times like this it would be good to have someone lying in bed next me. Trouble is they'd have been gone by now anyway. I never invited sleepovers ...

Trying to be quieter than a mouse I slipped out of bed, grabbed the pair of boxer briefs I'd discarded on the floor, pulled them on and tip-toed towards the door. Now I am not the big and brave and stalwart type. At five eight and a hundred and forty pounds I am most definitely a lightweight, but I work out and I'm pretty wiry, so I figured as long as whoever was in my apartment without my permission wasn't Colossus, I could probably, if I took him by surprise, take him down.

As it turned out he took me by surprise. I squealed--the only word for it I'm afraid as an arm was wrapped around my neck and I was pushed to the floor, a heavy weight on top of me. My attacker started banging my head on the floor--thank God for upgraded carpet padding. On the tile floor in the kitchen my head would have been mush.

"Get the fuck off me," I yelled, arching my back in an attempt to dislodge whoever the hell was beating me up. I managed to twist my body just enough to free my left hand and deliver a punch to the side of his head that probably hurt me more than it did him. "Ow!" Shit, that did hurt, but he must have been surprised by my attempt to fight back because suddenly the weight covering me was gone and the son of a bitch was heading for the door.

"Oh, no you don't," I roared, giving chase. Whoever said reason rules the mind hadn't done a study on gay guys who've just been attacked in their own apartment and had their heads banged against the floor. I was mad, seeing red, even in the dark, and that creep who'd been trying to rob me, of what exactly I wasn't sure at that moment, wasn't going to get away with it. I grabbed his arm, he pushed me away, I grabbed him again, he wrenched the door open, pushing me away again, this time with a lot more force. I stumbled backwards, he shot through the door, I charged after him, and both us ran into the arms of three uniformed cops.

When I say ‘ran into the arms' I mean that quite literally, at least in my case. The would-be robber was tackled none too gently by two of the cops, forced to the ground and handcuffed in what seemed to me in the blink of an eye. I meanwhile, was being held in the strong arms of the third cop, who was chuckling.

"Okay, sir--we got him," he said, still chuckling. "No need to beat up on him anymore."

"He was beating me up," I snapped, glaring at the felon who was now yanked to his feet, looking suitably pissed off at being caught. Still fuming I glanced up at the policeman who had released me from his arms presumably convinced I was no longer a threat to the criminals of Los Angeles--and gulped.

Oh. My. God. The guy was absolutely gorgeous. Despite the fact I had almost been beaten senseless, had engaged in a rough and tumble with a man much bigger than me, and was now surrounded by LAPD's finest, I felt the heat of arousal unfurl in my briefs. I had to physically restrain myself from jumping back into his arms. Taller than me--well, nearly everyone I know is taller than me--but built. His eyes, still twinkling with amusement were a forest green under dark feathered eyebrows, his nose long and straight and his mouth, slightly curled at the corners was full and--totally kissable.

Quit staring! My reason, finally returning, made me step back and drop my eyes from his beautiful face to the metal name tag on his uniform that read, Malone.

"Hey, Rich," one of the other cops said, interrupting my silent worship, "why don't you get the gentleman's statement while we take this one in?"

"Sure thing..." Officer Rich Malone smiled at me. "Wanna go back inside and tell me what happened?"

Buy Link: http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowBook.php?book=JPBLALAW

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Vampire Kisses

Hi everyone welcome to Victoria's Sunday Snog. - Here's a taste of Valentine's vampire love from Blood Lure - part of the series My Vampire and I:
Tommy, a firefighter has rescued Andrew from a hotel fire unaware that the man is a vampire. Several days later they meet again...

I'm offering a free copy of this story or if you would prefer any ebook from my website: http://wwwjpbowie.com

BLOOD LURE:
Tommy was glad he had the next twenty four hours off. It had been the week from hell, and even he, in his near perfect physical condition, was feeling the toll of too many long shifts—dealing with the hotel fire on Robinson, then an apartment fire that had taken hours to contain. Then there had been that weird situation with the guy he’d rescued from the hotel fire—Andrew.
He’d checked with the paramedics who were supposed to have taken Andrew to the hospital and they’d looked at him like he had three heads. Even his buddy Alex didn’t seem to remember much about the incident, and when he’d gone to check the log there was no mention of them handing a hotel guest over to the paramedics.
Yet, he knew he wasn’t mistaken. Andrew had locked eyes with him, they’d recognised each other, he’d called Andrew’s friend just like he’d been asked to—then … then, he wasn’t sure about the rest, but somehow Andrew had ended up being looked after, successfully it seemed, by these friends.
They had to be awful good doctors because Andrew had been really sick. Close to death, really.
Yet, when he’d spoken to him on the phone he’d sounded good. Maybe it just hadn’t been as serious as he’d first thought. But there had been all that blood.
And he hadn’t heard from the guy. That hurt. He’d been so sure Andrew had been sincere about them getting together. He’d tried calling the number Andrew had given him—that Jared whatever his last name was—but there had been no reply, no voice mail to leave a message. Why the hell hadn’t he thought to ask for Andrew’s cell number?
Oh well, chalk it up to just a bout of anonymous sex. Except it hadn’t been anonymous, and the memory of Andrew’s beautiful eyes, luscious lips and sexy accent just wouldn’t fade from his memory.
Damn, but he needed to get laid!
He’d celebrated his time off by taking a long leisurely bath then cracking a Bud light. Now he lolled on the couch, beer in hand, wearing only his boxer briefs and fiddling with the remote trying to find something worthwhile on the television. Maybe he’d go out later…
A knock at the door startled him.
Can’t be Alex, he thought, padding over to the door, he’s on duty ‘til tomorrow morning. He pressed his eye to the peephole just in case it was someone he should put more clothes on for. His breath quickened.
Andrew.
He flung open the door, a big welcoming smile on his face.
Andrew’s eyes gleamed as they skimmed over Tommy’s naked torso, but his answering smile was shy.
“I hope you don’t mind me just dropping by like this?”
“No, not at all. Come in, come in.”
Tommy beamed some more as Andrew stepped inside, and was glad he’d taken a few minutes to tidy up some after his bath.
“How do you feel? You look good—amazingly good, considering. Hey, how’d you know where I lived?”
Andrew chuckled. “You’re listed in the phone book.”
“Oh, right… Duh. Well, I’m real glad you came by.”
“I wanted to see you, Tommy, and thank you again for all you did for me the other night.” Andrew reached out and touched Tommy’s face gently with his fingertips. “I would have undoubtedly died, but for you.”
Tommy tangled Andrew’s fingers with his. “Not on my watch,” he said huskily. He raised Andrew’s hand to his lips and kissed the cool palm. Their eyes met and Tommy whispered, “God, but you are beautiful. That night in the club, I remember only some of it. God knows why. I should remember it all. It was—you were wonderful.”
Andrew could hear the countless questions forming in Tommy’s mind. Questions he could not yet answer. Answers that Tommy would never understand. If the time ever came when Tommy should know the truth, he would have to be told in the most careful and gentle way possible. But for now, Andrew only wished to bring the handsome fire-fighter pleasure. He owed this man his life; it was the very least he could do. While their eyes were still locked on one another, a quick mental pulse calmed the confusion in Tommy’s mind.
Andrew moved into Tommy’s embrace, and their parted lips met in a scorching kiss, tongues tussling, probing, breath mingling, setting each man’s senses on fire. Andrew felt the power in his new blood course through him, heightening his awareness of Tommy’s scent, his taste, the warmth of his skin, all of it fantaszticus. A low growl rumbled up from his throat and Tommy tightened his arms around him.
“Oh, yeah…” The young fire fighter breathed his desire into Andrew’s mouth. “My thoughts exactly.”

They didn’t make it to the bedroom. As if of one mind, they both sank to their knees, their mouths still locked together, Andrew’s arms around Tommy so tight he had to remember to ease up just a little in case he cracked the sweet man’s ribs. Andrew fell backwards, bringing Tommy down on top of him. His mouth settled on Tommy’s neck and the scent and the lure of the young man’s blood almost drove him mad with desire.
Not yet, not yet, not this time…
His hands slid down the length of Tommy’s sleek, muscled body, ripping away the fabric of Tommy’s boxers, to cup the round swell of his ass and pull him in against his own stone-hard erection. Tommy was tugging at the buttons on Andrew’s shirt. In his impatience to feel Tommy’s naked body pressed to his own, Andrew threw caution to the wind and willed his own clothes gone.
Tommy didn’t even seem to notice, just started feasting on Andrew’s nipples, all the while giving out little moans and sighs of appreciation. Tommy’s mouth moved sensuously over Andrew’s chest, teasing the dusting of black hair between his teeth, licking and nibbling at Andrew’s nipples until the vampire thought even he could not bear it a moment longer.
Was it simply because he had gone so long without this exquisite intimacy, or did this young man possess some kind of sexual enchantment that made Andrew crave his touch like he had no other, since Jared? Whatever the reason, it was all he wanted right then. He pushed his fingers through the thick blond hair on Tommy’s head, murmured something in his ecstasy that was incomprehensible even to himself, and Tommy’s mouth slid into Andrew’s armpit, his tongue burrowing hard into the cool scented flesh, taking long and languid strokes that had Andrew gasping his pleasure out loud.
“Oh, yeah…” Tommy’s mumbled approval vibrated on Andrew’s skin, sending tingling jolts through his body. He clasped Tommy tighter and rolled him onto his back. Tommy gazed up at him, his lips slightly lifted in a wanton smile.
“You are so fuckin’ hot, Andrew.”
“And you are the most wonderful mort—man I have ever met.” Andrew almost laughed at his near mistake. He would wager anything and everything that Tommy had never before been called a mortal.
“Mortman?” Tommy’s hands caressed Andrew’s butt. “Is that Hungarian for something?” he asked, his voice low and husky, a teasing light in his eyes.
“No…” Andrew’s eyes met Tommy’s, and there was sincerity in that look. “The Hungarian word—or rather, words—for you are, Csodálatos minden tekintetben.”
“Whoa, that’s kind of a mouthful. What’s it mean?”
“It means…” Andrew laid his lips on Tommy’s, then whispered, “Wonderful in every way.”
“Mmm… Same goes for you.” Tommy curved his strong, limber body into Andrew’s. The fit was perfection. His lips parted under the pressure of Andrew’s demanding kiss. Once again their tongues filled each other’s mouths, intensifying their desire, their bodies writhing together, their swollen cocks sparring like dancing sabres. Tommy whimpered and struggled under Andrew.
“Want to taste you. Want to have what you wouldn’t let me have last time.”

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Super Review for A Ghost Story

This review is from Miz Love Reviews - and I can't thank her enough!

I wondered when another Golden Nib book would come our way—and here it is! A Ghost Story ticked every box for me and left me wanting more, wishing it would go on forever. It starts off in the past, and let me tell you, the writing and voice is out of this world. I settled down thinking it was an historical, loving every minute of it, but it switches to contemporary. And there we have another treat, another side of J.P. Bowie’s talent. The contemporary voice was different but no less excellent—very British, so if you like the English way, this is definitely the book for you.

The historical opener drew me in. I was right there, readers! I saw the gathering, felt the spite emanating off a certain person, and wanted to read more about this section of the tale. The characters are delightfully real, a big splash on the page. At this point I’d to say a historical by this author would be at the top of my wish list, hint hint!

Jamie and Kevin (contemp characters), along with Jamie’s adorable mother and sweet niece, are a set of characters who also came alive while I was reading. I loved the way Jamie’s mother didn’t bat an eyelid that Jamie is gay—it was nothing to write home about at all for her. The instant chemistry between Jamie and Kevin is a joy to experience, and wanting them to get together is a strong pull on the heart strings.

The later scenes where the spirits battle is gripping, and the explanation as to why Kevin and Laura can see and hear spirits is sad yet understandable.

Best Bits: The historical introduction.

Verdict: One word: stunning. Actually, here are two more: buy it!

Buy Now!