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.
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,