Dear Josh

As part of the Goodreads celebration of romance, Harlequin suggested that we show our appreciation for readers by posting reader comments in the various romance reading groups at Goodreads.

Now I'm not sure that posting a lot of the really kind things readers have generously taken the time to write over the years is the best way to say Thank You. ;-)  It probably just seems ego-maniacal. But I began gathering up a few snippets.

I had a couple of little epiphanies. I've known some of you a very long time. When I say "known" I mean we've shared a bit of our lives on social media and in email. Some of you have come and gone. And sometimes you've come back again. I also realized that over the past few years I have personally responded to over four thousand "fan" mails. This does not include all the comments and messages and questions on social media--back when I used to try to answer everything--but it's no wonder I sometimes lose track of how far some of us go back.

In the end, I decided to just pick a few emails from the last couple of years. Not that these mean more than the earlier emails--I do really treasure those first emails of initial discovery--but because it was interesting to see my recent writing life through the eyes of readers.

(I'm not sure if that was supposed to be part of the exercise, but hey.)

As far as why I picked these emails versus others... There were some really beautiful, thoughtful emails, but they were too lengthy to share or too personal in nature or too similar to another email, and this is already an embarrassingly long list of quotes.

Some of these made me smile, some of these choked me up, some of them made me laugh out loud. But I think that all together they give you a sense of why I love my readers and why I feel that what I do matters and is satisfying on many levels.

The thing about writing is I can never experience my work as you do. The closest I come to understanding what someone might get out of my stories is when I hear directly from readers. Which is why it's sort of funny when someone apologizes for "gushing" or "fanboying/fangirling" or "taking up your time." You're not taking up my time. You're reminding me why--because we all have those moments when we wonder--I continue to write and publish these stories.

Anyway...letters from readers:

Reading your books, I often take the writing for granted, but reading this and also Come Unto These Yellow Sands, specifically, I realize the quality is not relative, it stands on its own and I savour every word. It all feels very polished, very deliberate, a true craft but it also retains enough fluidity and accessibility that the focus remains on the story and it looks easy, but I'm sure it's not.
 5/3/14

Thanks for writing. I'm sure glad you didn't grow up to be a mailman or a doctor instead.
5/14/14

I just discovered your Adrien English series of books on Amazon. Yesterday I read the first one in the series, today I read the second one. They are wonderful books. Your writing is flowing and your characters are interesting. Plus, you do a good job of setting a scene. I delayed getting any of your books because you are such a prolific writer. I equated prolific with popular and popular with all that's bad with popular fiction. I was wrong.
5/14/14

I do not know why I am writing to you.
I mean, of course I know... I had not finished your book yet that I wanted to write to you immediately and tell you - aloud! - how much I loved it; but at the same time I thought - still think - that maybe I should not disturb you with my silly enthusiasm. I had already read some of your novels and really, REALLY, enjoyed all of them. They are the stories I always wanted to read (and, well, write too, but... duh... I am not that good! Not even in my own mother tongue) and your characters are always absolutely fantastic. But this... I don't know... I think it's even better! The plot, the mystery, the atmosphere, everything is perfect. It was like I was there with Griff, feeling and seeing and dreaming like him. Ok, maybe I let myself be too much involved with the stories. But still. Anyway, I don't want to waste other of your time. Just let you know that I think you are an unbelievable writer - thing that obviously you already know and that lots of people already told you!
 5/18/14

…I’m sure you’ve heard all of this THOUSANDS of times before, but… I guess, it can’t hurt to hear it one more time. I just finished the Adrien English books – all 5 of them in 4 ½ days – and, yes, I do work a full time job and I’m married!    Oh Josh – I am so in love with Jake I can’t stand it.   It is so totally believable that Adrien would not be able to “quit” that man.   And God damn you had me scared a few times – having never read anything by you before I had no idea how “realistic” you were gonna go. 
5/30/14



This is about to say thank you  very much for your book: Man, Oh Man!
My name is R. I am a German writer.
Please excuse my bad English. I try to improve it every by reading  books written in English.
Your Adrien English series was a challenge for me, but I love the stories very much.
Although I write my own stories in German language, I found a lot of good advice and inspiration in your book, Man, Oh Man!
The book market in Germany works different than in the USA but good writing is always and everywhere good writing.
Thank you for your advice and for the sparkling inspiration coming along with the fun 'listening' to Dr. Lanyon's lessons. I like how you address your reader and how you define a good writer.
And thank you for the sentences about women writing M/M romance. I'm female, I'm mature. I read mainstream books until I didn't want to read anymore. The step to writing what I wanted to read myself, was the discovery of the German fanfiction page. That encouraged me to try it myself in the year 2010. And in my opinion I don't have to be a cop to write crime as well as I don't have to be a man to write a male story.
6/19/14

Hey Josh, I'd just like to thank you for writing such amazing stories. Reading your stories has really helped me through a lot, and it still is, anytime I'm feeling down I'll read one of your stories and it cheers me right up. I've had a lot happen the last few years (don't worry I'll spare you my sob story) and when I found your stories it really helped keep me going. Keep being awesome and good luck with...well, whatever you need luck with.
5/12/15

You are brutally honest in your writing, To the point that reader starts begging for mercy, for a corner to hide from waves of emotions. I just finished "Death of the pirate king", and found myself shaking and overwhelmed by Jake and Adrien 's reunion love scene. Clever choice of vocabulary, yet you used them in such a agonizingly light as feather way, almost childish,there is no way, this could be fiction, it's as bitter and as crippling as naked ,harsh personal memories, you are so accurate with feelings, it almost makes me angry. If this is fictional love, then I'm not sure there has been a true one. Thank you A reader from anther side of the world.
8/11/15

I have been off facebook/RSS feeds for 4 days only to discover the tip of the iceberg regarding your authorship. From a longtime fan (including a Gay Men's Press print edition of Fatal Shadows) THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU for all those hours of reading, re-reading and enjoying.
9/21/15

I truly believe you to be just the best storyteller. 
I went to your blog (I drop in for a look once every other quarter maybe) and discovered a firestorm going on. I don't care about your gender--you are a great writer. I know this because I've been reading since I was about four years old--non-stop, and I am 68 now.  ALL kinds of books, ALL kinds of authors. I don't know your gender. . . because you are a terrific storyteller, I truly don't care.  It's too much bother to worry. Please, just keep writing.   You write, I'll read.  I'll keep with the kindle and then buy the print. 
9/27/15

I read that you have had a hard time with 'revealing’ who you are, that people are hating you because you dared step into a world that is supposedly exclusive. All I can say is that you are a talented writer and I wouldn't care if you were a quad-eyed, tentacles, alien who typed with their tongue about being a human even though you aren't, your books give me an escape, your mysteries are wonderful and your writing style is fluid.
 10/6/15

I have been an avid reader of your books since discovering them and I will confess I just
assumed you were a male as your name implied. I have since discovered otherwise, and you know, I just don't care. I love your stories and I love your characters. I can't stop reading and re-reading your books and I love that you give us a chance to revisit the characters in the holiday codas. I eagerly await your next and future releases.
If you're wondering why I'm not so up to date on this issue, I'm not a Facebook or Twitter user and only recently read your blog regarding revealing your identity. It's sad that it matters to some people when your writing speaks for itself.  I wanted you to know, I was a fan, still am a fan and will always be a fan.
Thank you for all the hours of reading.
10/31/15

I want to thank you for your wonderful books.  I look forward to reading everyone I can find.  I am 61 and began the process of coming out 5 years ago.  I finally completed it this June.  As I struggled coming to terms with being gay and struggled coming out so late I turned to gay literature for perspective.  Of all the great authors I have read, you by far are my favorite.  I love your writing style and characters.  I want you to know you books have been great companies and I feel sad when finish a book and series.  Your mysteries are some of the best I have read.  You are a great talent.  Thanks again for your books.
12/19/15

I had no idea you were a lady, I thought you were a slightly neurotic, highly talented gay man, now I know you are a slightly neurotic, highly talented woman.  Or not.  Don't care.  Just keep writing. ;)
12/24/15


I'm D. and I'm from Turkey.  I've just started to read your books and i can't just get enough. My favorite series is the Holmes & Moriarity. I love Holmes' wits and non-stopping brooding. Also mustache is very common in my country but for the life of me I can't imagine JX with one! Generally here, it's used by older and non-sexy people which is opposite of JX.
And I really hope to read more about Holmes' relationship with JX's family. İt's just the crime takes all the attention in your books so we can't learn much about the characters' ordinary life. I would love to learn more about them and their lifes. I don't know if you gonna take this or read it but these are my thoughts. I'm glad to write them to you. :)
And lastly, when will you publish another book in the series? You are writing great books but not fast enough!;)
1/19/16

I'd like to be a tad more specific with my fan mail now that it's morning and I've had coffee: I work at a domestic violence/rape crisis advocacy organization and our client services manager is a HUGE fan of Jake and Adrien and has passed all five books around the office. I believe that I am the third or fourth person who has borrowed them and I handed them off to someone else. Our work is challenging, demanding and disheartening. I spend my days talking about child sexual abuse and how we can prevent it. We see the worst of humanity on a daily basis and while I was reading the series it was exciting to come home after a long day and get lost in the mystery and romance. Thanks again for coming up with such dynamic, lovable and compelling characters who always seem to find their way into and out of trouble.
1/26/16

This year I am going to be 80. I am still gainfully employed, and publishing (scholarly stuff). I am writing to tell you how much I appreciate that on your blog you updated my favorite gay couple: Adrien and Jake. I needed this kind of romance fifty years ago, but that was not possible. You give that back to me in a few paragraphs. Thank you for keeping them alive for me. I also read every other thing that you write. Having been a dancer, Lone Star still means a lot to me, but then so does that wedding planner in South Dakota. You are my favorite author because you give me back my youth.
1/29/16

New Release - EVERYTHING I KNOW

Connor loves teaching. He loves working with kids, he loves feeling like he's making a difference. And the kids -- and parents -- seem to love him. Until the afternoon he makes a small error in judgment, and an angry father's thoughtless comments start the kind of rumor that destroys careers. And lives.

 

Now everything Connor thought he knew about himself and his world is in doubt. But sometimes help comes from the most unexpected direction.

 

 

Excerpt

 

After a few rounds of hugs—during which he couldn’t help noticing that Callahan was on his feet and paying his own tab—Con exited the bar. He headed for the parking lot, but he was aware of the front entrance opening and closing behind him, of footsteps following his own.

His heart sped up in a confusing mix of excitement and anxiety. He kept his pace brisk though his spine felt fused with tension.

“Myers,” Callahan called.

Con stopped. He turned warily.

“Could I have a word?” Callahan sounded…not diffident, but maybe not as commanding as usual.

“Sure.” Con knew he sounded stiff, but he couldn’t help it.

Callahan walked up to him, looking capable and very attractive in a no bullshit kind of way. He was wearing fragrance, which he generally didn’t—something masculine and sporty—and his hair was more neatly combed than usual. That was pretty much all the effort he’d made. A shower, clean clothes and aftershave. Even so, not a man who needed to go home alone, unless it was his choice.

His expression was serious, his dark gaze direct. “I owe you an apology.”

Inexplicably, Con’s throat closed. He nodded.

“I’m sure Miss Lopez told you what happened in the play yard today?”

For a second Con couldn’t think who Miss Lopez was. Oh right. Pip. Perdita Lopez in grown-up life. “Yes.” One terse word was all he could manage.

“Look, I’m not afraid to admit when I’m wrong. I was wrong. I made a mistake. Even if I hadn’t seen for myself what it’s like out there, Liz told me you weren’t anywhere near her when she fell.”

“No, I wasn’t. And even if I had been, sometimes—”

“I know.” Callahan grimaced. “I got to see it for myself today. Even before the one kid popped the other, it was an eye-opener.”

Con nodded again. He was actually surprised to get even this apology. It was his experience that most adults were not good at apologizing to anyone, especially anyone who wasn’t family or a close friend. Especially not hot shot macho boss types like Callahan. He couldn’t bring himself to say thank you. Callahan had cost him a job he loved, and in such a way that it was going to be hard to find another one. But he did appreciate the effort.

“I spoke to Bea on your behalf. I told her that I had reacted out of anger and that I didn’t intend or want her to let you go, but…”

“She’s not going to change her mind,” Con said.

Callahan looked regretful. “She did say there were other performance issues. That the decision wasn’t based on that one incident alone.”

“And that is a lie,” Con said.

“I’m just telling you wh—”

“Never. Not once was I ever told there was a performance issue. I received a Super Star on every single one of my performance evaluations. A Super Star.”

“Er…”

“The most I ever heard was I needed to make sure the kids were doing crafts in the evening and not just—anyway, it doesn’t matter. I don’t know why I’m even talking to you about it.”

Con started to turn away, but Callahan’s hand closed on his upper arm. He said quietly, “Because I’m to blame for you losing your job. And we both know it.”

 

 

Buy it now from:

 

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Available Now -- The Parting Glass

Now available on Amazon, All Romance Ebooks, Smashwords and -- woohoo! -- Barnes and Noble.

Two and a half years ago, travel writer Timothy McShay let NYPD Detective Luke O'Brien talk him into hiking into the New Jersey Pine Barrens to face down a monster.

 

 Now Tim and Luke meet again under very different circumstances. The old attraction is still there -- but so are some of Tim's monsters. Is it too late to find their way back to each other?

Just an angsty little cocktail with a dash of bitters and a splash of sweet. I hope you enjoy it.

SNEAK PEEK - THE PARTING GLASS

(Straight off the grill and completely unedited)

“Tim?”

I glanced over my shoulder, surprised that anyone in New York would recognize me after all this time. Two guys stood in line behind me, waiting to buy tickets for that night’s concert at the Irish Arts Center. Jeans and leather jackets. They looked youngish, fit, and clean shaven in a way that seemed to advertise off-duty cops. I didn’t especially like cops.

I thought the red-haired one had spoken to me, but his gaze was as curious as my own.

His companion said -- and there was no hiding the shock in his voice, “Timothy O’Shay?”

I got a good look at him then, at first only taking in the independent components of his straightforward handsomeness: soft, dark hair, wide hazel eyes, startled mouth. He was just over medium height. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, long legs.  My eyes jerked back to his. We stared at each other. Stared and stared and couldn’t look away. Disbelieving happiness surged through me.

“Luke?”

 “Timmy?”

Luke O’Brien. After all this time. Happiness was too thin, too watered down a word to describe that wellspring of feeling. Joy. That was the word. A blaze of delight that almost defied definition. His startled face was alight with it, and I guess mine must have been too. People around us were smiling as we grabbed each other. 

“My God. Tim. I can’t believe it. You look…”

“You too!” No surprise there. Luke always looked great. Always had. Probably always would. Me on the other hand…not so much in the old days.

“I can’t believe it,” Luke was saying again. He really did look stunned. Stunned and…that word again. Joyful.

Joy is one of those naked emotions. You can’t hide joy. It’s like trying to cover a rocket launch with a lampshade. I think -- I think there might even have been tears in his too-bright eyes. I think maybe there were tears in mine.

Then I looked at Luke’s friend. There were no tears in his eyes, but there was plenty of emotion there, and abruptly I remembered the past two years and let go of Luke. I stepped back -- or would have, if Luke had let go of me as well. But he was still gripping my shoulders, his hands a warm weight I felt through the wool of my coat, staring at me, so glad to see me. Incredulous but so glad. Holding me as though there was nobody in the world but the two of us. “What are you doing here?” he questioned. “Where the hell have you been?”

I said, “I live in California now. I’m back in town for Rob’s wedding.”

“Rob?”

“Rob Sachs.” We’d met at Rob’s, about a million years ago. How could he not remember Rob? He hadn’t been to the wedding though. I’d wondered if I might see him there.

Luke’s dark brows drew together. “Oh. Right. I haven’t seen Sachs in awhile.” Recollection changed his expression, awareness flooding back. And suddenly it was right in front of us, the reason we’d split up, the reason I’d left town, the reason we’d never spoken again. He released me -- reluctantly, I think -- glancing at his friend.

“Jeff, this is Tim O’Shay. Tim, this is Jeff Rogers. Jeff’s a good friend of mine.”

“The Tim O’Shay?” Jeff said. He had a deep, dark voice. Sexy. “Well, what do you know?” His smile was brief and I didn’t understand the emphasis on my name. We shook hands briskly.

The line to the ticket window was shuffling forward. We shuffled with it, me glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t holding up the queue.

“Nice to meet you, Jeff. You work with Luke?” Jeff was attractive if you liked blue eyes and red hair and freckles. Very Irish-looking, which I happened to know Luke was partial to.

At the same time, Jeff was saying -- probably reading the wariness of my expression, “You’re a legend down at the precinct, Tim.”

“I am?” I threw a doubtful, frowning look at Luke, but then the light went on. Oh yeah. The Forester. The shooting in the Pines. How funny was it that my feelings for Luke were -- had once been -- so strong that the memory of my run-in with a homicidal maniac paled by comparison? 

“Are you on your own?” Luke asked. He glanced automatically at Jeff and Jeff shrugged infinitesimally.

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m, uh, meeting people.”

I think Jeff saw through it. Luke was still grappling with the shock of running into me and the subsequent, inevitable rush of memories. Most not good. I knew, because I was dealing with the same. It was like going down a slide backwards. First the thrill and then the thud.

The couple in front of me moved away from the ticket window. I said hastily, “Whoops, my turn. It was great seeing you again, Luke --” Busy, busy guy. No time to talk!

Luke shot another of those quick questioning looks at Jeff. “Maybe we could get together for a drink after the show?” Instant consternation as he heard his own words. “Coffee somewhere? Or maybe tomorrow --”

I shook my head. “I’m flying out tomorrow. Next time I’m in town, though. For sure.” That time I did turn my back on them.

I could hear the resounding silence behind me. Closing my ears to it, I said into the ticket window speak thru. “Guest pass for O’Shay?”

The girl on the other side of the bulletproof glass rifled around in a little box.

“Tim.” I closed my eyes at Luke’s quiet protest behind me. My heart thumped hard beneath my breastbone in that old flight or fight response. Flight, in my case. Always flight. Only once had I ever stood and fought.

Okay. Maybe twice, if you wanted to count the battle to get sober. But that was more like an ongoing running action.

The girl slid a white envelope into the steel tray beneath the glass. “Enjoy the concert!”

I nodded, took the envelope, braced myself and turned. I didn’t look at Jeff, with his sexy bedroom voice and his skeptical blue eyes. I looked only at Luke. The confusion and disappointment on his face hurt. I was being a complete jerk -- nothing new there -- and he wasn’t even angry. Just…not understanding. Bewildered. Because after all this time, why the hell couldn’t I at least stop and talk for a few minutes? What was I running from this time?

 My throat closed up. I paused long enough to grip his arm, and got the gruff words out. “It’s really good to see you, Luke. Really good.”

If he replied, I didn’t hear it, already walking away, heading straight for the theater entrance and not letting myself look back.

Six Books for Six Bucks

For this weekend only, I'm dropping the price of six of my novellas to .99 cents. That's six books for six bucks.

I've tried to get a nice assortment of stories in here: fantasy, historical, and of course mystery and romance.

The selected titles are:

A Vintage Affair
Blood Red Butterfly
The Dark Horse
The Darkling Thrush
Cards on the Table
Out of the Blue

You can purchase them at that reduced price through Smashwords, All Romance Ebooks, and Amazon Kindle. Unfortunately the turn around time at B&N is too slow -- by the time they'd have the new prices approved and posted, the sale would be over! -- but you can buy epub format through Smashwords or All Romance Ebooks.

This sale will end sometime Sunday, so do not linger or tarry. Hie yourself over to your favorite bookseller and start clicking. And if you already have the books, you can always gift them to someone else, right?

Have a terrific weekend!

BLOOD RED BUTTERFLY now available

Despite falling for aloof manga artist Kai Tashiro, Homicide Detective Ryo Miller is determined to break the alibi Kai is supplying his murderous boyfriend--even if it means breaking Kai with it.


Let the head-scratching begin! Blood Red Butterfly is coming in for a landing. This started out as such a simple little idea. I would support the release of the Japanese translations of Fair Game, etc. by doing a little Japanese-themed story. So, originally, it was going to be a short story, but then...well, you know me. It got a little complicated. So it ended up being a novella. And I ended up spending about twice the usual time on it because....because....

Let me put it this way. REMIND ME not to start next year off with a big complicated literary experiment.  I like to ease into these things. Start the year off with characters I know, situations that are familiar, books that are relatively easy to write.

That said, THANK GOD this is finished and now available on Kindle, Nook, All Romance Ebooks and Smashwords.

Blood Red Butterfly snippet

 

A wee (unedited, unexpurgated) taste of the current work in progress. This is a novella, a yaoi-hybrid first conceived as a little story to support the Japanese translations of a couple of my works being released through Shinshokan.

The original artwork is by my young niece.

BLOOD RED BUTTERFLY

 

“Bad news,” Hernandez said. “Your homicide suspect’s alibi just turned up.”

“No way.” Ryo grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the fleck of mustard on his navy silk tie. He shot Hernandez a look in the mirror over the bank of sinks in the john. “You’re kidding me.”

Hernandez shook his head. He was not a kidder.

“No. Way.” Now Ryo was angry. Still watching Hernandez in the mirror, he scrubbed ferociously at his tie. “Torres is not walking away from this. He popped the Martinez woman and he’s going down for it. And no little chiquita--”

Hernandez’ sour grin stopped him. “The alibi is male.”

“Male?” Ryo stopped rubbing his tie. “You mean…?”

“I mean you might even know him.” It was not a dig. Hernandez had been Ryo’s partner for a couple of years back when they were both street cops, and he knew a thing or two about Ryo’s personal life that Ryo didn’t generally share. “Might be something you can use. I don’t think the Sotels are an equal opportunity employer, you know what I mean?”

Yeah, Ryo knew what he meant. As badly as he wanted Torres, he wasn’t sure he liked that idea. He’d prefer to break Torres’ alibi, which should be easy enough to do because Torres had murdered that old woman in cold blood. Nothing and nobody was going to convince Ryo otherwise. “You believe this punk’s credible?”

Hernandez shrugged. “Torres used his one phone call to get this guy over here. See what you think. He’s sitting at your desk biting his nails as we speak.”

Ryo curled his lip, double-checking he didn’t have a piece of lettuce between his teeth. He ignored the derisive sound Hernandez made. It wasn’t about looking good, though Ryo knew he looked good—on a scale of Russell Wong to Dean Cain, he fell comfortably in the middle of Yeah Baby!—it was about conveying bulletproof confidence and unassailable assurance. Attitude. It was half the game.

He straightened his tie. “I don’t think this is going to take long.”

Hernandez said nothing.

 

The punk was still sitting in front of Ryo’s desk, though he had stopped biting his nails. Ryo had a quick impression of a slight and slouching boyish figure clad in jeans, a pair of chucks, and a gray hoodie. Across the noisy room someone slammed a file drawer and the kid flinched. Ryo smiled inwardly. Yeah, he’d smash this bogus alibi in less than twenty minutes and get back to building his slam dunk case against Mickey Torres. And this time Torres would not be getting off lightly because of his tender age and deprived childhood. This time he was going away forever. Or what counted as forever in the screwed up Los Angeles County judicial system.

The punk looked up and Ryo almost walked into a chair. A pale, pointed, delicately boned face, chestnut hair, wide dark eyes like a faun--assuming a faun was what Ryo thought it was.

The Ice Princess.

No fucking way.

Mickey Torres’ alibi was the same guy who had three times blown off Ryo at Fubar, a gay club he used to frequent. In fact, the Ice Princess was the main reason Ryo had quit going to Fubar. A guy could only take so much rejection.

So this little stuck-up femme dude had cold-shouldered Ryo, but was willing to offer his bony ass to Mickey Torres? Willing to supply gang banger Mickey Torres with an alibi for homicide?

Ryo smiled unpleasantly, noisily dragging his chair out from behind his desk. “I’m Detective Miller. You have information for me Mr.…?”

The Ice Princess jerked up straight. His face went whiter, his eyes went wider, but there was no recognition in his red-brown eyes. Just fear. Maybe the fear a lot of honest citizens seemed to feel dealing with the law. Maybe the fear of someone about to perjure himself to the police.

“Tashiro. Kai Tashiro.” His voice was light and husky. A young voice. A young man. But not as young as Ryo had originally thought. Probably in his mid twenties. Twenty-three or twenty-four.

“How can I help you, Mr. Tashiro?” Tashiro looked about as Japanese as the big-eyed androgynous figures in the manga Ryo’s little nieces loved so much. It was another point against him, though Ryo knew that wasn’t fair.

Murder wasn’t fair.

“I got a call from a fr—Mickey Torres. He said he’d been arrested and he needed me to—” a nervous swallow, “verify where he was three nights ago.”

Ryo opened the long desk drawer, removed a file, and slammed the drawer closed harder than he had to. Tashiro gave another one of those little jumps. Ryo opened the file, read for a moment, and then studied the man on the other side of his desk.

“Did Torres tell you what he was arrested for?”

“Homicide.” Tashiro’s voice was almost inaudible.

“That’s right.” Ryo shoved the file with the Martinez crime scene photos across the desk. “He killed a seventy-year old woman by the name of Esther Martinez. Take a look at what he did to her. Take a good look.”

Tashiro looked—he couldn’t avoid it—and closed his eyes. He opened them almost at once. “Mickey didn’t do that.”

“Yep, he sure did. He strangled her and then he beat her head in for good measure and because he’s a fucking animal with no conscience and no self-control.” Ryo kept his tone cool and cordial, hoping nobody at the surrounding desks was listening too closely.

Tashiro gave a shake of his head. “He was with me, Detective Miller.”

Ryo took the file back. He considered his strategy. There were a couple of ways to play this. He hadn’t missed Tashiro hesitation using the word “friend” in regard to Torres.

“Okay,” he said easily. “He was with you. From when to when exactly?”

Tashiro was still wearing his the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. It gave him a strangely monkish look. “From about eleven-thirty to seven-thirty the next morning.”

“About eleven thirty? So is that eleven-fifteen, eleven-twenty, a quarter to twelve? You’re going to have to be precise about the time when you stand up in court and swear to it in front of a jury.”

Tashiro’s eyes flickered, but he said, “When we left the bar, the clock on my car dashboard said eleven twenty-eight.”

“And what bar was that?” Ryo pulled out his notebook and jotted down the times.

“Fubar.”

“Fubar. Hm. I think I’ve heard of it. Where’s that located exactly?”

“Santa Monica Boulevard.”

“That’s a gay bar, right?”

Tashiro nodded, not meeting his eyes.

Ryo put his pencil down. “Do you really not recognize me?”

Tashiro looked up and his eyes went wider still. “Huh?”

Ryo picked up his pencil. Made a sharp notation. “So you and Torres leave Fubar together at eleven twenty eight on Tuesday night. Then what happens?”

“We drove to my place.”

“Which is where?”

“1409 Armacost Ave.”

Ryo grunted. “Nice.” Very nice. Half a million nice. What the hell had the neighbors made of street scum Mickey Torres? And what the hell did Kai Tashiro do for a living that he could afford that kind of prime real estate? Nothing legal probably. “Then what? You guys sat around and played Chinese checkers all night?”

Tashiro turned a shade of pink that would require some serious crosshatching in manga. “No. We had another drink and then we…went to bed.”

“Went to bed? Oh yeah? Did you watch Letterman? Give each other backrubs? Tell spooky stories? I bet Torres has a few of those. Has he shared with you how he wound up in prison the first time?”

Tashiro shook his head. “We…had sex.”

“I didn’t catch that.”

“We had sex.”

“You fucked. Is that what you mean?”

Tashiro’s look was murderous. Ryo smiled. He had a very white and charming smile and he knew how to use it for maximum annoyance. “So you’re gay?”

“Obviously.”

“No, no. We try not to make insensitive assumptions on the police force.  So you’re gay and I guess Torres is gay?”

“I…”

“That news is going to cause quite a stir with the home boys. Homosexuality is not popular with Torres’ gang. And I use the word gang deliberately.”

“Is that it?” Tashiro asked. “Are we done? Mickey was with me. I’ll swear to it in court if I have to. Can I go?”

“You don’t want to wait around for Torres to be released?”

Tashiro’s brows drew together in confusion that was at least partly dismay.

“I’m kidding you,” Ryo said. “It’ll be hours before he’s out. Lots of paperwork involved. In the meantime, we need to get a little more background on you, Kai.”

^^^^^^^^^^^

I hope to have this one out before the end of the year, but no promises!

The Mummy Walks

Hopefully onto your Kindle or Kobo or Nook or reading device of your choice.

Yep, Mummy Dearest is live and currently haunting the #1 slot on Amazon's Gay & Gay & Lesbian lists.

Genre: Contemporary, Gay, Holidays

Publication Date: 10-04-2011

Length: Novella

ISBN: 978-1-60928-536-4

Series: The XOXO Files

Price: $3.50

BLURB:

The truth is out there. Way, way, way out there!

The XOXO Files, Book 1

Drew Lawson is racing against the clock. He’s got a twenty-four-hour window to authenticate the mummy of Princess Merneith. If he’s not at his boyfriend’s garden party when that window closes, it’ll be the final nail in their relationship coffin.

The last thing he needs traipsing on the final shred of his patience is brash, handsome reality show host Fraser Fortune, who’s scheduled to film a documentary about the mummy’s Halloween curse.

The opportunity to film a bona-fide professor examining the mummy is exactly the aura of authenticity Fraser needs. Except the grumpy PhD is a pompous ass on leave from his ivory tower. Yet something about Drew has Fraser using a word he doesn’t normally have to draw upon: please.

With no time to waste—and a spark of attraction he can’t deny—Drew reluctantly agrees to let Fraser follow his every move as he unwraps the mummy’s secrets. Soon they’re both making moves behind the scenes that even the dead can’t ignore…

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Product Warnings

Whoso shall ever open this tomb, er, book shall suffer the curse of the Pharaohs. Okay, maybe not. But set aside a chunk of time for marauding mummies, too many cosmopolitans, illicit sex in hotel rooms, and other non-academic shenanigans.

You can purchase through All Romance Ebooks, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Samhain itself...