The Fall 2015 Black River Chapbook Competition n now open!
How to Enter
Senior Editor, Chapbook Series
Black Lawrence Press
The Fall 2015 Black River Chapbook Competition n now open!
How to Enter
Hi there, reading friends and colleagues. There is a really exciting contest going on for non-published writers for a trip to the 2016 RT Booklovers Convention in Las Vegas. If you would like the details of this contest, follow the link here.
Though I could not enter the contest myself, I did make the effort to write my very first fan fiction piece. I’m so proud of it, I thought it would be cool to share it here with all of you. If you are a fan of NY Times Best-Selling Author Christopher Rice, I think you will enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. I just hope I didn’t get the details wrong. :o) (1500 word limit)
Disclaimer: Warning – ADULT Readers Only due to explicit language and sexual situations.
“The Cannon Knight” – M4M Erotic Romance
(Based on characters/situations from “A Density of Souls” by Christopher Rice)
“I’m coming,” he practically whispered into the phone before hanging it up. Standing in his dorm room alone, the call had his emotions in a mixture of nervous anticipation and somewhat fear. He knew he had to be cool. And he had to be careful too.
Checking himself once more, he liked the tight bright tee-shirt that he usually picked to wear to the gym as it wrapped around his upper body like a second skin. No question that it was chosen mostly for the benefit of showing off his well-defined arms, chest and abs. The loose-fitting, knee-length, dark colored running shorts that danced just above his strong, tanned calves, in lack of a better description, were simply for easy escape. If he was going to do this right, he thought serious, considering it had been a long time since he enjoyed the pleasure of sweet release with someone else of like-minded desire, he may as well showcase his best assets to get things going quickly. Just because he wasn’t an athlete anymore, didn’t mean he couldn’t still look like one. Then, out of habit or subconsciously following an old trend, he grabbed his purple and gold university ball cap, flipped it around backwards over his dark, short hair, and took one long last breath before walking out the door. In his haste to see things through before fear or nerves got the best of him, his very necessary gym bag, he forgot, and left it sitting by the desk chair on the floor not far from the door.
“Damn,” he suddenly swore under his breath. He had already jogged halfway across the campus towards the gym when he remembered his forgotten gym bag. Taking a moment to catch his breath and to decide if he would go back for the bag or just make do with whatever was available, a familiar face caught his attention as it was headed straight for him. The face, he knew it well, since his very first day at Louisiana State.
“Hey, Cannon Knight,” the tall, slender biracial guy said with just a hint of Cajun lilt in his voice. His generous smile was as bright as the thick Louisiana evening air would allow. The spark in hazel eyes was convincingly filled with cheer.
“Hey, Thibodaux Boiler,” he said returning the gesture in kind. The handshake that passed between them left no indication of the long-standing rivalry that stood between their regional high schools. Though the history of their home district competiveness was as old as the South and based on the differences between those who had versus those who didn’t, the LSU campus wasn’t the place for any outside grudges. After all, once you became an LSU Tiger, a tiger is all you should ever be.
“So,” Thibodaux began, standing wide-legged, with his arms crossed over his slender chest, “You going out for any of the teams this year? Didn’t see you last year at all.”
“Nope. Not really. You?” He always avoided any details for personal reasons.
“Aww hell yeah,” the handsome boy said, suddenly animated with an imaginary ball. “Basketball, foe sho. “ Imaginary hoop shot, score. “And just like at Thibodaux, I’ll be one of the kickers for LSU.” He was about to demonstrate a legendary move on one foot, when the school’s cycling team, of about twenty people, came barreling through and around them. In order to get out of the way, the two former football rivals found themselves in each other’s arms, wrapped around one another protectively. To make things unexpectedly awkward, the materials of their chosen outfits were so silky and thin, that for a brief moment, nothing between them was left secret to the other, including the fact that they were both going commando. When they did finally let go, Thibodaux also let go of his practiced English dialect as he let out a stream of angry words, all in French.
“Are you okay,” the Cannon Knight dared to ask.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said calm, pretending to brush away invisible damage from his obvious embarrassment. It was hard to tell if he was shaken by the act of suddenly finding safety in another guys arms in front of God and everybody or the fact that they had just bumped near-naked crotches in broad daylight for the same reason. Either way, he simply glanced at their surroundings, hunched his shoulders and returned to his original masculine stance with his legs wide open and his arms folded over his chest.
“So… I um… Guess I better get to the gym, huh,” the former athlete finally said when he could find his own voice.
“Sure. Cool. You umm… You already look like you’re ready for the team.” He gestured for another handshake, flashing that winning smile in his effort to move away.
“I suppose I would try out,” the other one said, taking the offer to shake again before he moved in the opposite direction. “But I’ve got a job on Bourbon Street during the season.”
“Cool. All right then. See you later, Cannon Knight.”
“Yeah. Later, Thibodaux Boiler.”
Once he was alone, he took his time as a thousand things came rushing to mind. It wasn’t easy for anyone from his hometown when it came to thinking about Thibodaux High. And it had nothing to do with their generations of rivalry. Just the mention of the name always reminded him of the tragedy that both schools had suffered on homecoming night of his junior year. The weather had been bad and a young boy was killed just outside the stadium. Had it not been for his own troubles that started prior to the game, he likely would have been there when it happened. Then days later, the boy’s older brother, also from Cannon High, had supposedly committed suicide. His body was found nude, with a single gunshot wound up in the old abandoned church bell tower. Nearly everyone in the district swore they heard the actual shot, and the bell. He actually knew the boy, to be honest. His best-friend was on the football team as well. A real asshole, by all accounts, who made everything worse by simply being around. The whole ordeal was a nightmare that many would never forget. Even after so much time had passed, just the thought of it brought up a tightness in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in forever from a bleeding ulcer that changed his life. That was the reason he had missed that fateful homecoming game in the first place, as well as his reason for given up his hopes for football in the future.
“But that Thibodaux Kicker though,” he reminded himself with a grin to shake his darkening mood as he walked into the gym. Had he been so inclined, it would have been interesting to see his reaction had he allowed more than a little friction to pass between their accidental public embrace. Just the thought breathed new life into his initial nervous anticipation for sweet sexual release. He had gone without it as long as he could stand.
He was slow walking through the quiet, empty space between the lockers and showers when a pair of strong hands slipped around his waist and pulled him tightly in. He returned the attention by pushing his already throbbing crotch hard into theirs, kneading his strong hands up the side of his embrace to pull their faces close. Even in the semi darkness of the room, he could still make out the glimmer of desire in the hazel eyes of the young man who held him. No matter how tempting his full sensual lips were begging for him to taste, kissing, unfairly, was too intimate and against the rules. But the other plans he had for that beautiful mouth was just as pleasing, and he was bound to reciprocate deliciously as well.
“I worried you weren’t gonna make it,” his lustful companion admitted as he tucked his hand down inside the front of his black running shorts to stroke him.
“On the phone… I told you…” He tried not to gasp between words, following his lead. “I was coming.”
“You certainly will be, Mon Cher,” he whispered with a mischievous grin.
As they slipped into a safer part of the room, he found the air was already thick with the intoxicating scent of jocks and cocks and sex. In the moment, he licked his own lips in anticipation of shoving his sex down that Thibodaux Kicker’s hungry throat. It was almost maddening to watch him happily shed his pretentious public persona as he gingerly suckled on the end of the former Cannon Knight’s Quarterback’s prick. Once he was swallowed down to the hilt, as always, his mind leisurely wandered back to a magical snowy night on the banks of the Mississippi to a place known as the “The Fly,” and the memory of his greatest love that he would carry with him until the day he died…
Originally posted on Eric Shaw Quinn:
Leave Your Comments and Questions at 323-PEZ-TDPS and Join The Party!
You are cordially invited to join the festivities at TheDinnerPartyShow.com when we LiveCast the launch party for my brand new, first ever, murder mystery novel Write Murder, the first in my new Write Murder Mystery Series! Leave your thoughts and questions on the Party Line at 323-PEZ-TDPS and then listen in LIVE Sunday, October 4th, 8pm ET/5pm PT at http://www.TheDinnerPartyShow.com or on our free mobile apps and find out if we use your comment and hear what everyone else had to say. The person who leaves the most original congratulatory message will win a “mystery” prize. (It’s so mysterious I don’t even know what it is!) So don’t wait, leave your Write Murder Message on the Party Line now!
And of course no launch party ensemble is complete without your crisp new copy of Write Murder now available in print and…
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The October issue for InD’tale is out! Check out the home and join in the fun. Happy reading! :0) http://www.indtale.com/
Hello everyone! Today I’m happy to share the cover for the fifth Sword and the Flame novel, “The Dragonmaster.” It’ll be available for pre-order September 20 and released on November 1.
And here it is…
When the Gods call, mortals answer.
Reaching Solava Proper seemed like the end of their journey, but fate and the Gods have other plans for Gilliam and his friends.
Old friendships are rekindled and strained as the friends are forced to find a way to prevent an upcoming war and protect an innocent princess tied to the heart of it all.
Through their adventures, the Phoenix watches as he prepares for a possible conflict between the Gods. When a single move could mean failure, will his efforts succeed or be for naught?
Without a word, Fauna nudged her horse toward the portal with Mern at her side. The usual floating and light-headed sensation swept through them as they traveled the roads of magic. Once they stepped through, the portal closed, but not before a smaller shape hurried into the opening behind them. With its use completed, the portal closed as though it had never been there.
Stepping through into a strange forest was bewildering at first, but Mern and Fauna’s previous use of such traveling methods gave them the knowledge that the feeling would pass. For the one following them, it proved something else entirely.
Reh Venata was many things, but a dabbler in the ways of magic wasn’t one of them. The magical portal had looked like a doorway, but once inside she found it difficult to navigate. Countless voices called to her from every direction, and images of places she had wished to see again appeared all around her.
The only thing she could do was to try to follow the magus further, but her feet couldn’t find a purchase on the swirling ground. She was about to scream for help when the pair disappeared. The swirling whiteness of the portal shifted and started to shrink. Without thinking, Reh let out a squeal of fright and dove toward the first image she saw of a chamber room.
She closed her eyes and prayed the image she saw was in her father’s castle. The next thing she knew, she landed on her stomach with a thud among a series of shouts and curses. It took her a moment to realize she was laying on someone.
“Get off me, blast you, or I’ll send you to the Abyss!”
At hearing the shouting, Reh expected to be back with the Goblins, but when no one grabbed her, she forced her eyes open and found herself in a dining hall. It took her less than a second to understand she wasn’t in her father’s castle, but it looked familiar. When she looked down to see a Dwarf with a gray-touched red beard beneath her she let out a gasp.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I mean, I did, but I… Oh, dear.” Reh tried to push herself from her perch on top of the Dwarf, but her hand slipped and she drove her knee into him. The Dwarf’s eyes crossed, his face turned red, and tears poured down his cheeks.
“Blasted… Gods…” The Dwarf rolled over and spilled Reh onto the stone floor.
Reh pushed herself to her knees and looked around at the faces staring at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.” Gentle hands took hold of her shoulders and helped her to her feet.
“It’s all right. No one is blaming you.” The man holding her smiled.
About the author:
CP Bialois’ love of words began as a small child when his father bought a stack of comics to teach him the reading skills he wasn’t mastering in class. Before long, he was reading at an advanced level and teachers were shaking their heads over the unconventional method.
Growing up in the ‘80s, Bialois was exposed to even further inspiration through the popular cartoons of the day. Transformers, in particular, sparked his imagination and led to him put his first stories on paper. After a decades-long break, Bialois began getting back into the world of writing by joining some role-playing groups. These groups taught him about fleshing out characters and building worlds that stuck with him as he began writing short stories for fun.
To his surprise, Bialois would end up completing his first full-length novel, Call of Poseidon, in 2007. Armed with a finished product, Bialois began working on another book, The Sword and the Flame, unsure of what he would ultimately be doing with either. As with many others in the later part of the first decade of the 2000’s, he found himself out of work and looking into new options. Over the next two years, he would spend most days at the library, completing an additional half-dozen works.
Twelve books later, Bialois is planning for the release of many more and enjoying the feedback he receives. The up-and-coming author takes inspiration from favorites such as Steven King, Tom Clancy and Sue Grafton. His love of history, fantasy and old monster movies has also served as a muse.
When he’s not busy writing or chatting on his social networks, Bialois enjoys watching hockey and football as well as Metallica DVDs. He currently lives with his wife- a fellow writer- and their fur children. CP Bialois is also active in several South Florida writing groups, as well as the online writer community, and the Florida Writers Association.
Our world today is perhaps more text-driven than at any other time in history. In the Digital Age, the ability to read and write can transform lives, families, and even whole communities. Since UNESCO celebrated the very first International Literacy Day on September 8, 1966, the plight of millions of people around the world has improved through programs dedicated to helping marginalized populations become literate. But there is still a long way to go.
Illiteracy is more than just a lack of reading skills. Around the world, it is a clear predictor of poverty, illness, and disempowerment. It’s not a problem confined to the developing world, either. Even in the United States, there are thirty-two million adults who cannot read, according to the U.S. Department of Education.
Please attribute this infographic to https://www.grammarly.com/plagiarism-checker
Originally posted on The Musings of A New Englander:
I learned from my publisher that Jasper: Rainforest Friends and Family, which is volume two of my Jasper series, is being released in early October. WOOHOO!!!
So for a small time there is a promotional gig going on. There will be a discount price on not only the new book but also the first volume so anyone can catch up before October and be ready for the second one. I’m very excited and can’t wait to be able to hold and see the new book in my grubby little hands. Also volume one was just recently nominated for a book club award. A great time to see what is between the pages of it.
Volume three has been written and it is gong through my writer’s groups for critiquing. Which everyone knows is rough as heck to put one out there like that to the public. But I get to…
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BTS Book Review E-Mag: September/October Issue is out. Follow the link to read. Enjoy! http://issuu.com/btsemag/docs/issue29/78
The 2015 St. Lawrence Book Award
Each year Black Lawrence Press will award The St. Lawrence Book Award for an unpublished first collection of poems or short stories. The St. Lawrence Book Award is open to any writer who has not yet published a full-length collection of short stories or poems. The winner of this contest will receive book publication, a $1,000 cash award, and ten copies of the book. Prizes are awarded on publication.
The annual deadline is August 31. For details on how to submit your manuscript,