Release Day!#LoveOfTheGame #ALoveOfNovel  ~~~ Special Excerpt just for today!
Cover handpainted by Ian Brown of IB's Art Studio.

#Blurb
Johannes is starting his new life as a rookie in the best hockey league in the world, the NHL. His new home for the next four years is Montreal, Canada, and he's excited to get to his destination when a storm arrives, stranding him in Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, France.

In the airport lounge, he tries to amuse himself the best he can. He's nursing a lukewarm beer, and about to head back to join his parents at their table, when the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, with piercing green eyes, buys him a drink. He swears he has never been so instantly turned on as he is in that moment. The man flirts openly with him, making no secret of what he wants from Johannes as he invites him to meet in private. Not being out only makes Johannes hesitate for a moment before accepting the beautiful stranger's come-on.

Charlie, a cocky and opinionated, ex-submissive and reporter is leaving Paris after being on vacation when the studly jock just happens to appear out of nowhere - served on a silver platter. Charlie sees no reason to deny himself a last rendezvous before he gets on his plane back to Canada.

What he doesn't expect is this stranger to see the real him. Charlie's normal plan of attack is to take charge. But when it backfires, and the studly stranger not only takes control but makes him want more, Charlie does the only thing he feel comfortable doing. He runs!

Get Your Copy Here
http://www.beatentrackpublishing.com/?n1=publications&id=265



#Excerpt

“What is that cologne you wear?”
“Wh…What?” Did Charlie just stutter? Was he nervous? Johannes smiled, loving the effect he had on the otherwise confident man.
“You smell good. What is it?” Johannes knew he shouldn’t, but he let go of the doorknob, leaving the door to slowly swing open, and ran the back of his fingers over Charlie’s nape. Charlie shivered but he didn’t jerk away. That had to count for something.
“It’s especially strong right here,” Johannes murmured.
“I don’t know… Maybe my body wash?” Johannes wanted to taste that spot where Charlie’s neck met his shoulder, so he did, right there in the hallway where anyone could see. He leaned in and twirled his tongue over Charlie’s skin.
“It has a hint of vanilla in it,” Charlie offered.
“That’s it. Vanilla…and you. It’s a good mix.”
“If you say it’s girly, I’ll kick you in the nuts,” Charlie threatened.
“Did you hear me complain?” Johannes chuckled, shaking his head. Charlie was an expert on running hot and cold. He was one of a kind, a man with many layers, and Johannes wanted to discover each and every one of them.
He whispered in Charlie’s ear, “Better than vanilla ice cream.”
“Are you trying to seduce me with sweet talk?”
“You bet I am. I’m sure you’re fully aware of your own sex appeal.” He pushed Charlie gently but firmly through the door, closing it behind him.

“I know what I want, yes. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Charlie said as he looked around the large open-plan living room and kitchen. “Nice digs.”
“Thanks, and no, there’s nothing wrong with that at all, as long as you are honest with yourself and don’t try to convince yourself you want something else.”
“Was that even English?” Charlie smiled, a real genuine smile, and Johannes thought he might melt.
“Shut up,” he laughed, toeing off his shoes and hanging up his jacket. “You want a drink? I don’t have any beer or anything. Just some diet soda and water. Juice, maybe?”
“Any diet soda is fine, thanks. Who decorated your place?”Johannes went around the kitchen island, keeping Charlie in his sights as he took two diet Cokes from the fridge and poured them into large glasses.
“I did mostly, with a little help from my mom and dad.” He made a face and then winked.
“Aww, a mama’s boy.”
“Probably more of a daddy’s boy, if anything.” He wrinkled his nose as Charlie laughed. “That sounded really bad, didn’t it?”
“Yes, it did.” Charlie was still laughing.
Johannes held out one of the glasses, making sure their fingers brushed as Charlie took the drink from him. The spark between them was instant and undeniable.

Last Winter’s Snow by Hans Hirschi is the tale about Nilas and Casper. Their story starts in the early eighties when being gay was still an abomination, even here in Sweden and when HIV and AIDS were making itself a horrendous name and became the huge gay disease (the punishment for choosing to be gay as it was called then). 

I remember in secondary school I did my final paper on HIV and AIDS, this was in the late 90s, and I had the privilege to get to talk to several people who were living with HIV then, men and women alike I might add. It was right around that time, in the mid-90s when research hit home and developed the good meds, which finally gave HIV positive person a chance and it no longer was a death sentence. Well, at least if you lived in a country like Sweden or had money. So, when Hans described what happened during that time, even if I was too young at that time myself to have any own memories, I did recognize the society he was describing in Last Winter’s Snow. It was partly the same of what I had been told too when talking to people for my research. It feels like a hundred years ago but in reality, it was only some odd thirty plus years ago. 

Nilas and Casper meet in the midst of this horror of not really knowing what AIDS is, how you get it and also the slander of being the cause of it, once more having to prove you’re not the devil because you love someone of the same sex (when I think about how people were treated and still because they LOVE not HATE, but love someone else it makes me want to punch something.) They fight the general masses opinion and stick together and their bond grows stronger because of it not spite of it. Hans did this so very well to describe the hype and the general feel of it, the disgustingness around it and how they treated people, especially, gay men. 

The first thing I thought during and after reading Last Winter’s Snow is one of the first things Hans said the first few times we met, especially, the first time. He told me repeatedly, I don’t know how many times at that first meeting: “I don’t write romance” or “I am not a romance author” or “the books I write are not romance”. He was very clear that he didn’t write romance books. At that time I hadn’t read any of his books today I have read several, not all but several, and all of them have had romance in them and Last Winter’s Snow is the epiphany of romance, with a twist. And by romance I don’t just mean two people meeting and falling in love, I mean romanticizing a culture (the Sami culture that sure needs some fine romanticizing so we Swedes can get our heads out of our asses and see the beauty in the culture our nation has right under our noses). Then the way he writes about Nilas’ and Casper’s life, in general, the way he keeps Casper’s family a bay for most of the book and focusing more on the good from Nilas’ family. That is all romance in a way too. 

I have to say I love Nilas pretty much immediately, what’s not to like, he’s gentle but no pushover, kind and considerate, smart. He’s faithful to his homelands, and the fact that he’s Sami is a huge bonus since that is Sweden’s native people and very much a huge part of our history, one that we do not cherish as much as we should. I am sure they are very proud to have been featured in a Swedish author’s book too, and have such a huge part of the story which is why Hans (at least I think) decides to have the very descriptive fauna and landscape description so that the reader truly can get a feel for what Lappland landscape, or Sápmi, look like.  

Last Winter’s Snow is huge in its history and Hans most definitely make sure you get to see all the things there is to see, even here the words are romantic, the feel of the scenery he describes are majestic. I never been to the northern part of Sweden but I could see it too and most definitely want to go and see it for myself, the northern lights, the midnight sun, all of it. 

One other thing, I think, I’ve realized about Hans after reading his last few books is, either he must be thinking a lot about death and dying or he’s terribly afraid of dying, because there’s a lot of action around dying even in this book just like in the Jonathan books, his short stories… well, let’s just say, all his books have death in them. The only book I’ve read by him so far that there’s no death is Ross Handyman. So, there’s a complaint I have, if to call it that, do people really always have to die to not be around? Yes, death is part of life but really Hans my dear friend what’s with the constant dying?

The story of Nilas and Casper is absolutely lovely, it’s serene for the lack of a better word. There’s never any doubt what they are all about or what they are to each other. They are both strong in their own person but together they are rock solid. I’d love to have learned more about Casper, I felt that we didn’t get to know him quite as intimately as Nilas but this was after all Nilas’ story so in a way, I am not that surprised. The two ending chapters were magnificent and double bonus that it was a Swedish setting, that made this even more special or rather it is what makes it so special, to begin with. 

I recommend Last Winter’s Snow to anyone who is interested in reading a great but different book, it is not for those who expects an American setting with fluff. This is a Swedish book, with very Swedish characters and settings. I know from personal experience where my own books have been questioned or rather misinterpreted because it isn’t Americanized and the characters don’t act like Americans do because let's face it a lot of books have that point of view even if taking place elsewhere. I want more books like this one and what Hans has done is to give a little bit of Sweden to the world. 
​

The Cover Artis of this great piece of art is my friend and the very talented Ian Brown,
IB's Art Studio! Ian came up with the idea from reading the novel at a very rough stage and did magnificently. I couldn't have asked for more, Thank you very much, Ian! 


Love of the Game is my third full length novel and also for me the most complicated book I've written because as usual there's always a hidden meaning or purpose for me to write it. It is just not another story and it especially isn't just another BDSM story. 

Love of the Game is there to portray what I to me BDSM is about, and just to warn you there's not a single flogger, playroom, dungeon, or kneeling event that takes place and also it is just the beginning of a journey for all the characters introduced.

I hope you will like it spite its different on take on a very popular subject.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blurb:
Johannes is starting his new life as a rookie in the best hockey league in the world, the NHL. His new home for the next four years is Montreal, Canada, and he's excited to get to his destination when a storm arrives, stranding him in Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, France.

In the airport lounge, he tries to amuse himself the best he can. He's nursing a lukewarm beer, and about to head back to join his parents at their table, when the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, with piercing green eyes, buys him a drink. He swears he has never been so instantly turned on as he is in that moment. The man flirts openly with him, making no secret of what he wants from Johannes as he invites him to meet in private. Not being out only makes Johannes hesitate for a moment before accepting the beautiful stranger's come-on.

Charlie, a cocky and opinionated, ex-submissive and reporter is leaving Paris after being on vacation when the studly jock just happens to appear out of nowhere - served on a silver platter. Charlie sees no reason to deny himself a last rendezvous before he gets on his plane back to Canada.

What he doesn't expect is this stranger to see the real him. Charlie's normal plan of attack is to take charge. But when it backfires, and the studly stranger not only takes control but makes him want more, Charlie does the only thing he feel comfortable doing. He runs!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:

Storm
Johannes Alm was in Paris, not so much the city itself as stuck at the damn airport, which was not anywhere near as much fun as being able to enjoy the city of love firsthand. They—his parents and himself—had left Gothenburg that very morning, with the sun standing high, a blue sky floating calmly above them, no indication that thunderstorms were coming their way. Now, a few hours later, shortly after they’d arrived at the French airport, it had grown dark, and apart from the numerous flashes of lightning decorating the sky, there was no light to be seen. It was frustrating no end, and hell, he was bored, too. He was supposed be flying across the Atlantic, not being stuck at Charles de Gaulle.
He knew he was acting like a five-year-old child pouting over not getting a new toy, but Johannes couldn’t help but to let out an annoyed grunt. Usually, he had no problem hanging out with his parents, especially his dad; he’d done it a lot during the past twenty years. His dad was one of his best friends, but now, even that was a no-go. Pulling out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, he called the one and only person he wanted to talk to when he felt like this: Adam.
Finding the number for his former lover, and still best friend, he hit the dial button, hoping to God Adam wasn’t busy. They’d officially called off their “relationship” a few months ago. It had been a mutual decision, and one that had just needed a confirmation out loud, because they hadn’t been sleeping together for a month, if not more, when they finally broke it off.
The reason: they’d never fallen in love. It had never been anything earth-shattering in that sense; it had always just been great friends having amazing sex, and the closer Johannes had gotten to the big day of moving overseas, the more his focus had been on hockey and his new life rather than getting off. But they were still friends, and that would never change.
“Stud muffin! What a surprise to hear from you. Did something happen?” Adam’s cheery voice boomed through the phone and into his ear. The simple sound of his voice, and the ridiculous nickname Adam had for him, soon had him grinning wide.
“You know, you’ll have to stop calling me that when you find yourself a real boyfriend. Actually, I’d suggest you stop calling me that so you can get yourself a real boyfriend.” He smiled into the phone, immediately feeling much more relaxed. That was what he loved the most about Adam. He had this way about him that just made everything seem better somehow. Nothing ever brought the guy down.
“Hush your mouth! Don’t use the B-word around me,” Adam scolded playfully. “He might hear you.”
Johannes quirked a brow. “You’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend? You used to bitch and moan how you hated the fact there was nothing more between us than good sex.”
“Great sex, muffin. Great sex,” Adam corrected him, luring out another laugh.
“Fine, great sex.” Johannes rolled his eyes.
“Remember that, so when you meet all Mr. All-Canadian-Boy, you can tell him you learned all your best tricks from me. Oh, fuck it, just tell him I taught you everything you know.”
Johannes couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. It was in moments like this that he agreed with Adam. Too bad there wasn’t an inkling of chemistry between them beyond the “great sex.”
“Now, answer my boyfriend question,” Johannes prompted. He was like a bloodhound when he got a whiff of something. He seldom—OK, never—let anything slide, and he usually got his way. He knew Adam loved his more dominant side, and that was what had made what they’d shared between the sheets as good as it had been: Adam’s endless research on the internet and Johannes’ willingness to try it on Adam. The Train Station incident was just one of many scenes they’d played out, and the most public.
“If you answer my ‘what happened’ question,” Adam replied immediately.
“Storm happened. I’m stuck in fucking Paris. Mum and Dad are doing the wine-and-dine-yourself-to-a-coma, and I’m stuck here at some schmuck VIP lounge, looking out a damn window…”
“…wishing I was there,” Adam finished for him, causing him to crack up with laughter and making near bystanders turn to give him funny looks.
“Yeah, I sort of do. We could’ve done a repeat of the train station.” That had been hot as fuck and risky as hell, but damn, he could still rub one off thinking about their sexcapades at the train station, and it would make him come like a freight train without brakes every time.
“I’m not flying to Paris to fuck you,” Adam pointed out.
“Since when do you do me?”
“Oh, screw you. But I do ride well, don’t you think? Save-a-horse-ride-a-cowboy good,” Adam retorted.
Johannes cracked up again, a little less loudly, but still. It felt great to laugh. “You do. You’ll make a great permanent rider for some cowboy someday.” They were getting corny, and the conversation was getting out of hand. “Thank you for this,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Anytime, stud muffin, anytime. You know that. Before you go, can I give you a piece of advice?”
“What?”
“Johannes Alm, you’re in Paris, the city of love and mad sex, with nothing to do and time to waste. Go sit that fine ass down by the bar and let some Jean-Claude twink pick you up and ride you both into sunset.”
“You know you’re a complete and utter whacko, right?”
“Yes, well, my mother dropped me on my head one too many times as a child. Besides, you love me just the way I am, whacko and all.”
“I do, man, I really do.”
“See?” Johannes heard the grin that Adam was sporting at that admission. He’d made him smile, too. Rock on. “Now, bar, beer, twink, a good ride. Chop-chop!”
“All right, I’ll go for the bar and beer, at least. The rest? We’ll see.”
“Don’t be such a party pooper. Live a little.” Then Adam hung up, and Johannes was left with a dead phone pressed against his ear, not that it was that unusual when dealing with Adam, but at least he was in a much better mood than before.
Shaking his head and still smiling, Johannes turned back toward the bar.
With no Adam in sight, he’d have to make do with what he had, which was very-little-to-no sex games, a lukewarm half-drunk beer, and a bad French talk show. Maybe he just needed something stronger to drink and his current situation would start looking up.
But hey, it was all good. His life was changing for the better. He was going to Montreal; he was going pro in the NHL. Hell, his number one goal on his bucket list was finally coming true. If anything, he should be celebrating. At the age of twenty-three, it was finally happening. He knew he wasn’t old, but some of the guys he’d be playing with had already been in the NHL for at least two, maybe even three years. However, he’d made the choice, together with his dad, who was also his manager, a few years back to go easy and not rush overseas, to take his time and develop his technique in the SHL—the Swedish Hockey League—and give himself time to mature as a player.
Like a jack-in-a-box, the bartender suddenly appeared before him, all smiles and with a fresh beer that was put in front of him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t order this…” The protest was more a formality than an actual objection. He was ready for a new one, but how could the bartender have known that?
“With courtesy from the gentleman at the other end of the bar.”
Johannes followed the direction of the bartender’s discreetly pointing finger, his breath catching in his throat the second his gaze locked with the most amazing green eyes he’d ever seen. A storm of butterflies erupted in his gut, making all of him tingle, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t look away.
It wasn’t often that he was awestruck by a man’s looks, but this one was such a fine specimen it was impossible to not take an interest. The way those green eyes bore into his, the suggestiveness there, it was clear what was on the table, and that he wasn’t the only one looking.
The stranger’s eyes roamed down over his body like a hot touch, taking in every inch, it felt like. The soft-looking, full lips that were twirled into a cocky smirk rather than a smile made him want to reach over and grab the man by the front of his shirt and kiss that smirk away. The impulse to do just that surprised him.
Hannes, get a hold on yourself. It takes more than a pretty face to get you all ecstatic.
But there was no hiding it. He was excited by the guy and the open proposition on the table, maybe, or solely, because of what Adam had suggested on the phone just minutes ago.
“May I make a suggestion, sir?” the bartender said with a friendly smile.
He already knew what he was going to do. Adam’s words rang loudly in his mind, but to humor him, Johannes nodded.
“Perhaps you should flip the napkin around?”
Johannes made a face, doubt rushing through him. No way had this guy sent him a note on a napkin. What was this? Junior high? “I don’t—”
“Oh, just do it already!” the bartender interrupted, seeming more excited than he should be.
Quirking a brow at him, Johannes flipped the napkin over, and there, written in neat block letters, it said, Meet me by the men’s room. Don’t make me wait!
Johannes snorted out a laugh. Was this guy serious? He didn’t take orders, especially not from strangers in bars who obviously needed taking down a pin hole or two. But he was interested—his prick was surely taking notice—and he wanted to go see what this beautiful man wanted. The fact he’d sent a note instead of coming up to him proved, at least to Johannes, that he feared rejection.
Sure, it wouldn’t be his first time in a public situation, but really, his game of hide-and-seek with Adam at the train station didn’t count. It had been with Adam, who, at that point, had been his steady lover, not some random guy.
“You’re going, right?” the bartender urged.
Johannes lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip, giving himself a moment to ponder and to keep the nosy bartender on his toes. “No, I wasn’t planning to,” he lied.
The bartender laughed and then quickly covered it up with a fake cough. Johannes popped a brow, and gave him a mock glare. He wasn’t really upset, but at the same time, he didn’t like people telling him what to do.
“Isn’t it quite arrogant to assume I would? How do either of you even know I’m into men?” Johannes asked easily.
“I mean no offense, sir. The truth is, I don’t know what you’re into, and frankly, it really isn’t any of my business. But if you don’t mind me saying, the look on your face when you saw him pretty much said everything. No words needed.”
The grin on the bartender’s face made him look like one huge, smug bastard. But Johannes had to chuckle. He imagined he looked like a man who’d just walked in on another man in a shower, naked and on his knees, waiting for him to appear, because the attraction had been instant.
“And what was that, exactly?”
“That you wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that ass.” The bartender’s grin widened.
Johannes half-choked on his beer in a spit of laughter. “Really? You saw all that?” he managed to say between laughing and clearing his throat. “You’re one observant bartender.”
“Hey, it comes with the job.” He shrugged lightly. “What also comes with the job is, I see nothing, hear nothing, and tell nothing. But between you and me—” he put his arms on top of the bar, leaning in a little closer “—if there was ever one man out there worth taking a swing in the other direction for, that one would be it.” He winked with a nod in the direction of the restrooms.
“Do you always encourage your customers to have rendezvous in airport facilities, or should I feel special?” Johannes accused playfully.
The bartender’s grin turned sheepish as his shoulders rose and fell in a slight shrug. “You’re at an international airport where thousands of people pass through every day. No one will ever know anything about it. Besides, Mother Nature is not letting any of you leave anytime soon. Do you have something better to do with your time? You’re young. Live a little.” He waggled his eyebrows, making Johannes snort out yet another laugh.
It was the second time in less than an hour he’d been given the advice to go have sex. One-track minds, the lot of them, but who was he to say he didn’t like the idea?
If he was being honest, he wanted nothing but to kiss that overly confident smirk off Green Eyes’ lips, to go to him and take what he wanted, and Johannes would bet his best hockey stick that it was what Green Eyes wanted, too. To be taken and devoured.
It sort of surprised him how badly he wanted to do this, but the idea of seeing Green Eyes climax, to be the one to make him come so hard his legs turned to jelly, to be the only thing keeping the lovely man from falling to a heap on the floor… He liked that idea a lot. The guy would look even more beautiful without the smug look on his face and in ecstasy.
Taking a last taste of his beer, Johannes headed for the restrooms.
“S’amuser!” the bartender called after him.
Johannes didn’t reply, but understood enough French to know it meant “enjoy yourself.” And no doubt there, he would make sure that they both did, and were left very happy and satisfied.

​It’s funny this thing that reviewing books is, at least for me. The more a book affects me the harder I find it to review. If Grif’s Toy was difficult to review because there were things in that book that just had me going through every human emotion possible then reviewing Wes’ Denial is bordering impossible to review. This review has taken me close two months to master.
 
Those of you who read my review on Grif’s Toy and who happened to catch some of my comments on Facebook while reading it knows very well my reaction to that book. In all honestly when picking up Wes’ Denial I was in doubt how the hell Joseph Lance Tonlet was going to pull this off, first, because Grif’s Toy was not only a really great book pure fiction wise but the message in that book was so loud and clear. Grif’s voice was strong and there were no doubts left at the end of the book about who Grif was or who was truly in charge in that relationship and (pardon my French) it sure as fuck wasn’t Wes. I was afraid that I was going to read a doublet of Grif’s Toy but from Wes perspective together with having Tonlet tying up a few lose ends like the big significance of Wes tattoo and who Henrik was. Even if my worry was slight, there had been no need for it slight or other. Wes Denial is just as good and I would say even better than Grif’s Toy for no other reason than the end.
 
Books like this touch me, because not only have the author, Joseph Lance Tonlet, managed to convey a magnificently emotional story but like I’ve said before managed to convey a message, or several messages, in a subject matter that is very complicated for most of people to understand, especially those of us who don’t live in the BDSM lifestyle or anywhere near it. Yet, we all tend to have a lot to say about it. Funny how that is, isn’t it?
 
One of the issues I have when reading MM books in general, if to generalize for a bit, is that I find a lot of them to be all about sex and I’m not talking about how many acts of sex there are. There can be a book with 5 scenes with actual sex acts but not have very much to do with sex or vice versa. You following? The clichés of BDSM books with the dark clubs, whips and chains, dungeons (and I am sorry but it doesn’t matter how much white or yellow painted walls you have in these dungeons they are still play rooms set out for one thing to “play” to indulge in whatever play it is that get a certain couple off), sex and more sex, child/parent play as I call it, which is about the dominant telling the submissive what he/she needs like they don’t have a clue themselves about that because first they need to be saved, it is all the typical encounters when reading a BDSM book. It might seem a bit harsh but it’s true, and I’m not saying they are bad books just that because of this they become very one sided or people who don’t tend to question things they know little about get the wrong idea.
 
Like so many other “things” BDSM is in my opinion over sexualized, it is the desire of having great sex that is the drive to seek out the BDSM lifestyle and that fact alone gives people a somewhat skewed view of what it's really about. After reading Wes’ Denial, not reading Grif’s Toy, but reading about Wes and what experiences forms his life I can finally say there’s one more book (to a very short list of books) that desexualize and, lack of a better words, re-humanize the BDSM lifestyle and makes it out to be what it’s meant to be a way of living your life together and getting your needs/interests met in more than just your sex life because it has to do with a state of mind and emotional needs that many times have a physical way of being satisfied.
 
Wes has this confident way about him but at the same time he has secrets and things that makes him vulnerable. Through life he finds out things about himself that in many ways disturbs him and makes him feel like a freak and like I said in my review on Grif’s Toy, it isn’t until he meets Grif that he truly understands himself or rather allow himself to do so. You learn throughout the book how he finds out what he is and what that means and how he struggles to find acceptance in being him. Thomas and Henrik are two of those people that he meets and two people who seen sides of him that are both good and bad. There are things in Wes’ past (that I won’t go into that are dark and to the point of cruel) that he’s shamed by, things that forces Grif to take on a role that is not his typical role for no other reason than to help the man he loves to deal with his past. Does this remind you of anyone you know? It does, doesn’t it, because we all do it at times to help others deal with things buried in their past, we shoulder tasks or situations, accept the burden of crosses not really ours to bear for no other reason than to help the people we love. Tonlet says himself that submission are gifts given from one person to another and I agree but Tonlet taught me something else too, that no matter how many labels we put on people or on ourselves in the end we are all the same. We bleed the same, we love the same, we want and need the same thing for those we love to accept us for who we are.
 
Wes’ Denial is about everything but sex, and there’s plenty of sex scenes in this book. Wes and Grif shows us it’s about the same thing every other relationship is about, which is love and commitment, about helping your partner through the worst thing they experienced in their life so they’ll be able to move on. Wes’ Denial is not a repeat of Grif’s Toy, nor is it an easy story to read both because there are scenes in it that are very graphic both in violence but also when it comes to the D/S structure of things.
 
Mostly it’s a hard book to read because of the emotional journey, Wes journey is so completely gripping and heart twisting at times it is hard to read because of the tears you shed. What Wes’ Denial really is about is finding and forgiving yourself, it’s that easy. It is about accepting yourself for who you are, good and bad, with the good choices and bad choices you’ve made, that you are not a weak man or less dominant because you need help and that being turned on by what you are turned on by isn’t wrong if with the right partner, the yin to your yang. On the contrary, Wes’ over and over again kills the stigmas of BDSM not being abuse, it isn’t just about sex, it isn’t weak or mean but it is just about two consenting adults, loving each other as much as the next couple, doing everything they can to make each other and themselves happy and also being openly proud of the life choices they made. Wes’ Denial is really a Cinderella story about true love and fighting evil for that love. Finally, this is a book that says all the things that every BDSM conversation should start with: Once upon a time there was a submissive boy who fell in love with a dominant boy…. And then they lived happily till it was their time. There’s a quote from Wes’ that I like to share from the book that is so spot on about what is about. To as the author says he done for himself and his own life too, the important question isn’t why (and trust me I am a very why asking person), the important question is, Are you happy? Or possibly, What makes you happy?
 
“Thomas had taught me there was nothing about either—sadism or masochism—which made either of us better or superior to the other. We were what we were; I was simply Wes and he was simply Grif.” From Wes’ Denial by Joseph Lance Tonlet
 
Joseph Lance Tonlet didn’t only give us an amazing and hard story telling us about Wes but he also gave us the most magnificent ending (and don’t think I don’t see the raised eyebrows because I do). But even though as I sit there and realize what is going on, there on the last pages and wanted nothing else but to yell at the author for being so damn cruel, I can’t picture another ending for Grif and Wes, because this end is the ultimate proof of how much Wes and Grif really loved each other and how deep that love truly goes. That nothing about them or their life together was driven by anything else but respect and love that they felt for each other’s. So, Mr. Benson move over the throne now belongs to Mr. De Luca!
 

I love books, I love to read, I love the written word and I love to read in a lot of different genres. I read everything from classics of Kafka, Brontë, Austen, Shakespeare, to horror or crime such as John Grisham and Dean R. Koontz and so on and so forth to contemporary romance novels. There’s not much I don’t read, or many genres I can’t find authors to love.

However, there's one thing I’ve noticed with the LGBTQ community of authors, including myself, is that very few just write books. Books for the masses books about people who just happen to be something other the standard straight, white, christian. This thing we call sexual orientation is very important in the quest of not having it be so important. Mind you now I’m not saying this is always a bad thing, talking about matters will defuse them and eventually whatever made a hype out of one thing will be gone and commonly accepted, I’m just claiming it is how many people in MY oppinion write . Nothing wrong with it it’s just how it is.

With Debbie McGowan’s books, sex and sexual orientation is something distant, it’s not this huge statement or discussion, sex is something everyone has so it's like "knock yourself dead" and sexual orientation, it’s who you are no matter what that is so what's there to discuss. I am not saying it isn’t important factor in McGowan books but she has a way of wording things that makes them so acceptable that you just sort of nod and goes along with whatever she says. It's all the norm.

In the Wag and the Scoundrel Debbie McGowen’s characters are diverse but yet familiar that it doesn’t matter what their sexual orientation is or gender or color of their skin or political views they could all be you in one way or another. Gray, the widower, Rob the soon to be divorced, Will, the animal rights activist and ex banker gone surfer, Aaron and Naomi are so freaking brilliantly done I might actually have whooped a little; but they are all regular dudes and dudettes with very much of the same type of problems. Debbie McGowan is one of a small group of authors I'm currently reading that truly know how to make, all those things we all want to be non issues, into just that a non issue. That is a gift in itself.

When it comes to The Wag and the Scoundrel it’s a suspense and crime story, and I love those kind of stories, I prefer them when reading in a way, or rather I prefer stories that are about more boy meets boy or girl, I like stories about real life. Just like John Grisham, McGowan, focuses the drama on the actual case of “who’s done it” instead of the act of violence of seeing the crime being committed. That doesn’t just cause the story to become more of a suspense story because she as a writer can focus on more calm details in the investigation instead of the hard quick actions in the crime moment.

What I like most about this particular book are two things, one, the flow between keeping the pace of the actual case of investigating the murder going, so it doesn’t stagnate and sort of just flimsy out around in the course of getting people together as couples or sorting their personal lives out. The story is the crime committed that involves a lot of people whose life are intertwined. That is the second thing I love about this book, all the different characters that we get to follow and their personal lives as a side story to the crime investigation. It is a nice side step from the crime story, to say it lightens it up maybe a bit over exaggerated because damn these people got issues the size of a small European country, I am not jealous but we get to follow them on their personal journeys as well and I liked that a lot. I can tell you this I usually don’t spend too much time dwelling on who will end up with who, because let’s face it most romances are pretty easy to figure that one out, but since this isn’t a romance and that was pretty clear from get go I was muttering quite a lot and was ready to kick ass if Gray didn’t get his head out of his arse.

In all, Debbie McGowan write books for the masses, they are not simply LGBTQ books, well they are but I hate labels, books are books, and if I want a crime I look there and there’s where this book fits in. The Wag and the Scoundrel will have you turning that page after page till you come to the last one, because you just want to know who one done it and what the heck happens to everyone and I’ll tell you Debbie is goooood at keeping you on your toes! Finally what I have to say is move over John Grisham there’s a new crime author in town!

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Beaten Track Publishing

Grif’s Toy by Joseph Lance Tonlet, oh boy, this will be one of the strangest, longest and most likely one of the most philosophical book reviews I’ve ever written, be prepared.

If you research about what people fear the most, one of the most common things people fear in this world is death. The reasons why can differ immensely depending on who you ask but generally they fear leaving their loved ones, which is a legit fear, I don’t doubt but I don’t have it, (I know appalling) how I don’t fear death. If I die I won’t be here, I’ll be dead nothing to fear when there’s nothing to feel. I don’t control dying, all I know is that one day my day will come and that will be it. Death is a part of life, it happens and we all know it, so why try to control something that isn’t in my power to control.

What I do fear is living, living a life that isn’t quite what I expected, and knowing that while I walk around living this “bland” life, (it really isn’t as bad as I make it sound, but I’m trying to make a point), I'm not fulfilling my dreams because we are not here to fulfill our dreams we are here to be good girls and boys and do what is expected. (And no, I didn’t have overly harsh parent, on the contrary, my parents, especially, my mother encouraged me to go out there and experience life. The cliche: If I known what I know now about myself back when I was 20 a lot of things would have been different.) Reading books such as Grif’s Toy, and even learning a thing or two about the author himself, makes those bells of unfulfilled dreams rings mighty high right about now, but also make you understand, well at least makes me get why people come to the point and say screw the world I'm going to live my life for me no matter what other people think because I need to be happy. That's what Grif's Toy is about, being happy and doing everything you can to live a rich fulfilled life. So, while the rest of us (again not everyone of course) putter around and only do what is expected of us, there are those who go after their dreams and live them.

When I started reading Grif’s Toy, I’d read the blurb, seen some reviews and I believe I had a fair idea of what I was getting myself into. Well, boy was I wrong, about halfway through, at what I call the piercing part I was ready to chuck my kindle into the wall, even though, up to that point I’d really liked the book even if there were elements in it that I couldn’t grasp and fully understand.

First of all, Joseph has created main characters such as Weston Wes De Luca, Tate Diaz, and lets not forget about Marcus Grif Griffin that are real, and as for Grif he is accomplished, smart and has great confidence about his person and know very well what he wants and needs (even if I didn’t see it at first), he’s no victim or a person with a rotten self-esteem, not at all. He’s the ultimate force and drive in this story and a positive one of those. Even secondary characters, such as  Matthew Smithton and Pavel Alexander are not just some filler roles, they are fleshed out and bring their own set of quirks, stories and facts to the book to why they are there, without them the story wouldn’t have been complete.

Secondly, Joseph is a damn good storyteller, he has a way with words that just magically pull you in and then bam the world as you know it is translated into the world he has created. I know for a fact, that I told my kids at one point to hush it because I was reading and I usually don't do that.  Also, this story is told in a way that it sort of brings you from the past into the present and that is a tricky thing to do so it turns out well. I is important that you tell enough to get the reader to keep going and also understand what happens, when and with who, so when the end comes it makes sense. There was no issues with that here, Joseph rounded it off at then end really well and there weren't any loose ends left dangling, and the the light-bulb went on and I was home so to speak. 

So, there I was ready to chuck my kindle in the wall and it took me forever to get through that chapter because I could only read a couple pages and then I had to let it rest for a bit and then go back to it. I didn’t understand, and I always have to understand where a person come from, it is a driving need in me, to understand why and to understand where people come from. It has nothing to do with me, that I have to want or need the same things, it has to do with understanding others and knowing that ultimately they are happy, ok, getting what they need, no matter what that is, maybe that I’m not turning my back to someone who needs my help, whatever. And usually, mind you now when I read BDSM books even if they are good books they always leave one thing unclear, or where I go “OK, I see what you are saying and I’m sure he/she’s happy but…” there’s always a but, a but containing that the submissive is portrayed as the person who has to be convinced by the more dominant part of what they need, like a child that needs a parent to explain why they need to brush their teeth. There’s always that aspect of hint of “parent, child” behavior (for the lack of a better comparison) and that drives me absolutely bonkers. I don't claim to be an expert on anything, especially not BDSM, but you don't convince someone to "do" BDSM you agree to do it together because you both want to and then discuss the do's and don't's.

This isn’t the case with Grif’s Toy, yes, I will admit you do have to read the whole story, from first word to last word to get the full feel of this, to understand it all and see this, but Grif is in no way shape or form not in control, or unsure of what he wants, needs or elsewhere confused. As a young man, he’s like any other young person, not fully fleshed out and 100 % secured in himself, but who is at that point, but as the book grows so does Grif and he’s kick ass. No doubt about it and here is the icing on the cake, Wes, he is not perfect! I’ve only read books by one other author that manages to do this, Wes, who’s the dominant part (if that is really how you can describe him because Joseph Lance Tonlet all through the book have Wes/Grif and Tate/Grif as equals and never strays from it) has insecurities of his own and this is also shown in a very soft and gentle way. I would even go so far to say that Weston doesn’t find his full confidence until he meets Grif, meeting Grif is what makes Wes blossom and fully believe he’s not “the freak” (to use Grif words) he think he is but that there’s a yin to his yang out there and more importantly,  Grif is his yin.

Grif’s Toy, has given me a lot to reflection on, and that the best part about reading certain types of stories, even if I agree with the author that fiction is to be read as fiction, I still think a good book of fiction has so much truth in it that a good fiction book can help change lives. Grif’s Toy is such a story, it's about self discovery, about accepting yourself for who you are and in that acceptance maybe even learn to love yourself because of those “flaws”. That no matter what we all have our faults, our limits, but more so what may first come off as the most horrendous, unfair and dreadful thing in the world might be the one thing that later on takes you on the most valuable journey you could ever have taken, and without that one “flaw” you would have missed out on the one thing that helped changed your life, for the better.


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