Happy release day!
*straps on a party hat* *tosses confetti* *blows a noisemaker*
Going for Gold is now available here through the MLR Press site. Yay!
This anthology, edited by EM Lynley, includes the following stories:
Hot Shots by Michael P. Thomas
Into the Deep by Nico Jaye
The Quad by Kelly Rand
Lightning in a Bottle by Sarah Madison
Swimming the Distance by Annabeth Albert
Shooting for Gold by Whitley Gray
An Olympic Goal by K-lee Klein
Tumbling Dreams by Kaje Harper
Here are some great, informative, and/or hilarious posts from some of my co-contributors:
- Michael P. Thomas talks about coping with Olympics withdrawal on his blog here. (Hint: It involves Speedos. Yay, Speedos!) He also offers up a juicy bite of his story here.
- Sarah Madison gives us an insider's scoop on the sport of equestrian eventing here (part 1) and here (part 2). She also discusses being a proud GLBTQ supporter here.
- Annabeth Albert waxes poetic on a topic close to my heart: Speedos. *dreamy sigh* Check out her thoughts and enter her giveaway here.
- Kaje Harper gives us a taste of her gymnastics story on her blog post here.
- K-lee Klein's teaser about her story can be found on her blog here.
- Our editor, EM Lynley, hosts Sarah Madison on her blog here and talks about the new release here. Did you know that the anthology is over 110K words? That's a lot of man-lovin' to feed your Olympics fever!
My story, Into the Deep, is about an American diver and a British bartender. Here's a wonderful video that combines both...with the BRITISH diving team, including that cutie, Tom Daley, who I swear is old enough for me to ogle. I swear!
*looks around furtively and beckons you a little closer*
Shhhh... Well, if you made it this far, you deserve a little something for that. Here's a short Into the Deep excerpt from the day John came into Blake's life. Enjoy!
***
EXCERPT from Into the Deep by Nico Jaye:
“Another
round for the Yanks at table eight, Blake,” Dani called out as she sailed by
with a tray held high, the aroma of battered cod and salty chips drifting
behind her. Looking up from the tap where he was pouring a beer, Blake glanced
past the four top in the middle of the room to table eight in the corner, also
known as two Newcastles, one Guinness, a Tanqueray and tonic, and seltzer with
lime.
Seltzer
with lime was watching him from behind a thick fringe of long, dark lashes.
Again.
Blake flushed
and looked away. Then the corner of his lip lifted, and he couldn’t help
himself — he peeked upwards, immediately encountering the stranger’s gaze once
again.
Not a stranger for much longer, he guessed, sneaking a glimpse at the handsome
American’s closely-cropped dark hair, strong jawline, and wide mouth. He
couldn’t tell the color of his eyes at this distance, but those lashes alone
could slay a man from fifty paces.
Be still, my little heart.
Holy
shite, the man was perfection. Meeting that inscrutable stare for a moment
longer, Blake gave him a little smile before turning his attention back to the
pint, cutting off the tap just before the amber liquid spilled over the side of
the glass.
“There
you go, Mr. McCoy,” he said as he placed the full pint in front of the grizzled
middle-aged man who was picking the cashews out of the snack bowl at the bar. Blake
had been working at The Red Griffin for the last six months and had begun to
settle into the routine and the quirks of the regulars. He’d taken this job to
provide a steady income supplement to his real passion, drawing, which, while
filling his nights and feeding his muse, unfortunately did not fill his wallet
or feed his belly as reliably as he would like.
For what
it was, bartending was flexible and provided enough amusement and activity to
have become something he’d actually come to enjoy. Located on the edge of
London’s Canary Wharf, the pub was one of any number in the neighborhood, and
the patrons tended to be stuffed shirt businessmen, who popped in at lunchtime
or happy hour, and locals like Mr. McCoy, who’d been coming to the place for
years. The occasional tourist group stumbled in, but none quite like the Yanks
at table eight this afternoon.
Correction: none quite like Fuck Me Eyes
with the mile-long lashes over there at table eight this afternoon.
Turning
back to the taps, Blake was in the process of assembling that table’s order
when he caught sight in his peripheral vision of a pair of smooth, corded
forearms leaning against the scarred dark wood of the bar.
“I think
you have something for me.”
***
*wiggles eyebrows* Find out what John thinks Blake has for him in Into the Deep, available as part of MLR Press's Going for Gold anthology. Add it to your Goodreads bookshelf here! Happy reading!
Hugs and happy thoughts about Speedos and all things Olympic,
NJ
