Hello and welcome to another interview. You would think that I'd be jaded by now, but no... Not when I have the joy to welcome someone close to my heart, a member of my family (yes, you know? my SO family!).
While I wrote this, I tried to recall a book of his – any book – that I might not have agreed with...and I couldn't. Couldn't find a single one, and he's written a lot of books! All his stories have brought me somewhere that I can forget about my reality and dive into his world of beautiful love and happy endings, even if the road to get there isn't always an easy one.
So please take a seat, maybe have a shot of tequila or maybe a glass of wine, and enjoy the ride.
Ok, Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
What? Oh, right, wrong blog! Sorry, back to MY usual questions...
Ok, Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
What? Oh, right, wrong blog! Sorry, back to MY usual questions...
The morning, you are tea or coffee?
*eyes cup and lifts brow* I am most definitely coffee for the morning and most of the afternoon! Don't think I could function without it.
What kind of books do you write?
I write m/m romances, predominately contemporary, although I have written several regencies and a couple of paranormals. Sometimes, I need the variety. *sips coffee*
Why did you choose this genre?
I chose to write this genre because I enjoy reading it. There's a certain pleasure in reaffirming that love is for everyone by writing about same sex couples finding HEA. Besides, it's sexy.*smirks*
When you write, are you keyboard or paper?
Keyboard. I'd like to be able to write more on paper, but my hands cramp up and my writing becomes illegible…so much so that even I can't decipher it, which makes typing it difficult. (See, I almost put "hard", but I'm so used to the Story Orgy gang jumping on things like that with a sexual innuendo, that I refrained.)
Are you more motivated to write when the sun shines or when the weather is gray?
I'm motivated to write when it's sunny out. The sun is a major source of inspiration to me and has been since childhood. I love its enduring nature.
Where do you find your inspiration?
Everywhere. There's so much around us to be inspired by, so much quirky human beauty to spark an idea. I find handsome men inspiring, and nature, and music…
When you start a book, do you already have the whole story in your head, or is it built progressively?
Sometimes I have a whole story in my head. A lot of the time I don't. And sometimes when I do? The characters go off and do their own thing anyway. But it's all good as long as they end at the HEA.
How do you feel before the release of a book? Fear, joy? And after?
Nervous more than fear. I always wonder if I maybe should have done something differently. There's a moment where you want to snatch it back and proof it one last time, you know? After? Well, the nervous usually lasts a few days, then it’s the relief, and the giddy euphoria, then the ‘omg’ nervousness as you wait for feedback.
Between your first and last novel, do you feel a change? Do you write differently?
I think so. I write with more awareness to the publisher's guidelines, I believe. But the stories? I think they've stayed true to my voice.
They say that writers project themselves into the skin and into the head of his hero / heroine, is that the case for you?
To some extent I think we can't help putting a bit of ourselves into our characters. As for the other way around? I'm not sure about that.
You define yourself more like a bookworm, a city mouse or a country mouse?
Oh I'm a book worm. Most definitely. I have thousands of books and if I had room I'd have thousands more. My significant other bought me my first kindle so that we could save on space. J
Molière said: “Writing is like prostitution. First we write for the love of it, then for a few friends, and in the end for money.” What do you think about it?
Um…If most of us are writing for money we're going to be sadly disappointed because very few writers make "big" money.
Your books have already been translated?
No, not yet. I’m hopeful though.
Do you pay attention to literary criticism?
Literary criticism? I pay attention to well thought out, specific commentary that I feel can help me to improve my craft. I do not pay attention to sarcastic, mean spirited or vague reviews that cannot help me in any way. Trust me, that way lies madness.
The days are 25 hours. You spend that extra hour in the garden or in the kitchen?
Oh…I think I'd have to split it- a day in the garden followed by one in the kitchen.
What is the book you would bring with you on a deserted island?
John Steinbeck's East of Eden. It's an all time favorite.
In the evening, do you turn off the light directly or do you take the time to read?
Oh I read, I couldn't fall asleep otherwise.
"Battle: Salmon!" Kenji Fukui had just announced the ingredient in the first ever Iron Chef battle, when the familiar yet unexpected rap came on my door. Typically, my traitorous heart pounded and anticipation stirred. It had to be Gabe, with that silly patterned knock.
I jumped off the couch and smiled weakly at my sister. "Um…"
She frowned at me. "Zeke? Is that him? I thought we were gonna hang out tonight?"
Mindy and I were hardly dressed for company. She'd been home all summer, and we'd scarce spent any time together. Tonight was supposed to be for us, we planned to loaf around at home all evening with back to back episodes of our favorite campy television program, watching the judges gush over fish gut ice cream, while eating Ben and Jerry's by the tub.
We'd planned, plotted, and finagled for this night of twin bonding. Why the hell was Gabe banging on our door?
"Yeah. It's him. I…"
She waved a spoonful of Chunky Monkey in my direction. "Go. See what he wants, but if you're not back in before the end of the show, I'm going to eat the Chubby Hubby, too."
Mindy was great like that. "Thanks, Mindy. I swear, I did not double book on this night." The little excited pitter patter of my heart wouldn't let me be too mad at Gabe though. He was a busy guy, and I didn’t see him as often as I'd like. The habit he'd developed lately of dropping by without notice, though, bothered me. On the one hand, I considered as I strolled to the front door, it meant he was comfortable and happy in our relationship, which I had to see as a plus.
On the other, expecting me to be home and available without notice struck me as taking advantage. I didn't care for that at all.
I pulled open the front door and was assaulted by two completely different types of heat.
One was due to the late evening humidity and the high temperatures, but the other was all Gabe.
Tall, broad shouldered, thickly muscled, with his brilliant light blue eyes and, ummm, the scent of hard work clinging to him. The quirky little grin on his lips told me he'd noted my interest.
"Hey," I forced the words past my suddenly dry mouth. A drop of sweat beaded on his brow and I watched it trickle down his temple and into the faint stubble of his jaw.
"Hey, yourself." Gabe leaned forward and my vision blurred as he kissed me. I might have fallen on my ass if he hadn't held me up with his arm around my waist.
When did that happen? I chased his lips for another kiss, savoring the taste of man and mint and the mingled odors of outdoors and wood and sweat that comprised Gabe. No fancy cologne had ever done it for me like the natural smells that clung to Gabe after a day of work.
"Did, um…" My voice faded as he shifted his focus to nibble at my neck, tugging aside the neckline of my Dolce and Gabbana tee. It felt so damn good, the nip and suck of his mouth along my collarbone that I couldn’t even bring myself to protest the potential ruination of my favorite designer wear. Closing my eyes, I let the sensations sweep through me, the rough caress of his stubbled jaw on my skin, the slick glide of his tongue.
"Zeke? I’m opening the Chubby Hubby!" Mindy hollered from the back of the house, breaking the fog of lust that had begun to drown me. I pushed gently against Gabe's chest, shivering a little as the muscles bunched under my touch. He pulled back and smiled down at me, lips glistening, tempting me to toss aside the night I'd planned and dive right back into his mouth and the passionate interlude it promised.
"Did we have plans?" Was that my voice, so deep and husky? If I could sound like that all the time, I'd be a radio DJ, not an aspiring chef.
"No, I finished up an installation at your neighbor around the block's place and thought I'd stop by on the off chance that you'd be here. When I saw the car in the drive, I figured I'd stop."
I was mesmerized by the drops of water gliding down his nose and cheeks, by the flush on his skin and the sparkle in his eye. That was the only excuse I could think of for what happened next. Blinded by lust. "Come in. Mindy's here, but we can go to my room."
The door swung shut behind him, and he spun me around against the wall for another kiss. I couldn't help arching up into him, grinding my cock against his thigh in search of a little relief from the ache of need that had blossomed with the first sight of him.
"He gone now?" Mindy shouted again.
"Am I interrupting?" Gabe whispered against my lips.
I jerked back to reality with a crash. Gabe stared at me, a little frown between his brows. I rubbed it away with my thumb. "No," I called back. "You got your pants on? We're coming back there."
I grabbed Gabe's hand and half dragged him down the hall to the family room. "We were just cuddled up back here eating ice cream and watching some Iron Chef," I explained.
"Okay." He accepted my assertion, but how would Mindy react?
She gave me a telling frown when I dragged Gabe into the room behind me. "Hey, Min. You don't mind if Gabe joins us, do you?"
The frown vanished to be replaced by a polite smile. "No, come on in." Mindy swung her bare legs off the couch and dropped the Chunky Monkey container on the coffee table. "In fact, since you're here to keep my baby brother company, I think I'll just go on back to my room and make a few phone calls."
"You don't have to do that, Mindy," I protested. "We only have a few weeks left before you go back."
She did that thing I hate where she flips her hair over her shoulder and acts dumb. "Yeah, but I’ve got to call some people up there and make sure everything is set for my apartment in the fall."
Having stripped off his T-shirt, Gabe slipped into the nest of blankets on the sofa and held an arm out to me. Mindy rolled her eyes and flounced down the hall. I let go of my disappointment at Mindy's exit and climbed into his lap, tugging a blanket over us. Strangely enough, my parents insisted on running the air conditioning at a consistent seventy-two degrees all summer long, so no matter how hot it was outside, I always felt a bit of a chill inside. My pop said it was more economical, and he wasn't one to take into consideration the fact that I was freezing half the time, so I wore flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt for this lounge night.
"What are you watching?" Gabe was staring at the television with an expression of something akin to horror.
I glanced at the screen, where Morimoto was hacking the head off a huge salmon. "Classic Iron Chef. It's fantastic. Have you ever seen it? They make all this really beautiful food using parts of the ingredient that we'd never use in America."
Seeing his lack of enthusiasm, I shrugged and settled myself closer against him. "It's DVR'ed. If you want to watch something else, the remote is on the table behind you. I've seen this a million times anyway."
His sigh of relief jostled me as I rested my cheek against his chest. When Gabe stretched back to reach behind for the remote, I nuzzled his arm pit, soaking up the scents of him, feeling my senses reel with the intensity of his presence. I blew out a breath, and he jerked, grabbing my ass with one hand.
"I know." I licked a stripe down from his pit to his nipple and set about amusing myself as he switched the channel to something that sounded like football. The tangy salt of sweat and the underlying flavor of soap and Gabe's skin enticed me to continue.
Strong fingers combed through my hair, holding me in place as I took a lick of a taut brown nipple.
Sighing, Gabe pushed me closer, and I knew what he wanted. I sucked the nub into my mouth, flicked it with my tongue until his fingers clenched and he groaned. "Your sister?"
"She's not going to come back out here. That was her not so subtle way of telling me to get some when she left earlier." I tipped back and dragged my tongue up his Adam's apple, over his chin to settle my mouth against his again.
I licked and nibbled and teased until he took over the kiss, pressuring my mouth apart, crushing our lips together so he could plunge his tongue to the depths of my mouth. I sucked his tongue, rubbed against it with my own. We strained together, until I slowly became aware that I was humping against him furiously. Cock creating a wet spot on my pj's, lungs practically burning from lack of oxygen.
It was my turn to pull back, and he nearly refused to let me.
"Wait." I pushed upright, so I sat astride his lean hips. Thrusting up, he brushed the ridge of his cock, straining at the zip of his jeans, against my crease. "Yeah, I want that," I murmured, pulling my T-shirt up over my head and tossing it to the side. "But I don't have anything in here."
His eyes nearly crossed, and his grip on my hips tightened. "We can go to your room, or you can lift off me so I can get my wallet out."
Now, where to find Lee Brazil, you’re going to ask…. Well, first, on Facebook on his Personal Page or his Author Page. Or, you can take a look at his blog Lee's Musings. You can go and chose among all his books on Amazon, Breathless Press, BookStrand, and All Romance Ebooks.