Gender Identity: We’re questioning the RELEVANCY of this? REALLY???

So, I’ve mentioned the Old Dude’s addiction to Fox News. Every so often I hear something that makes me perk my ears up and take notice. Tonight that something was a news story about the *controversy* regarding the Queer as Porn: Film Screening and Lecture at Massachusetts’ Williams College.

What really torqued my chain was listening to these “well-educated” young adults questioning the educational and social value of discussing gender identity. Particularly in light of the oh-so-many kerfuffles, tempests and downright tsunami’s in the m/m reading and writing community  over the last six or eight months.

I’ve stayed quiet for the most part – largely because I don’t want to open my uninformed mouth and say something inadvertently hurtful again. But seeing this news story – which was presented as “purely informational” and with no espoused opinion on the part of the reporter – served as a reminder to me that by staying silent, sometimes we become every bit as guilty as the active, vocal oppressor.

So, I’m going to look at some really pretty pictures of Jiz Lee (and strongly recommend the Your Daily Dose of Jiz tumblr – there’s an AMAZING quote from Jiz on the process of coming out – sometimes over and over and over…), then settle down with LA Witt’s Static, which has been on my TBR practically since it came out!

That would be Jiz in front. Gorgeous and charismatic, no?

Winner – Best Bisexual/Transgender Sci-Fi / Paranormal / Fantasy
Honorable Mention, 9th – Best Bisexual/Transgender Novel

Lambda Award FINALIST
Transgender Fiction & LGBT Science Fiction/Fantasy

Have an awesome, tolerant, peaceful and accepting weekend!

The Longfellows are COMING!!

Finally, finally, FINALLY Longfellow Seduced is coming out at Ellora’s Cave on May 9th! Sierra and I are so geeked!

Here’s the blurb:

Magnus Crowe—previously enslaved by his sire, the Vampire Contessa Allessandra—does not trust beautiful women. So when he discovers someone is embezzling from his club, he resents being forced to call in a woman to fix it.

Prudence Longfellow, a forensic accountant, comes from an ancient line of powerful Longfellow women. She agrees to track the club’s missing money with one condition—Magnus must stay out of her way. That’s a promise easier made than kept. Magnus can’t deny his strong attraction to this enthralling woman and Prudence, despite her best efforts, gives in to Magnus’ seduction. Repeatedly. They can’t keep their hands to themselves whenever they’re together and soon they have to face up to the possibility that they might be intoxicated by something more than intense desire for each other.

But Allessandra is back, and she wants to claim the man she created—only he doesn’t belong to her anymore. Prudence has staked her claim, and she’s not giving him up without a fight.

Here’s the awesome cover (again):


And here’s the excerpt:


Copyright © SIERRA & VJ SUMMERS, 2012

All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

Prudence Longfellow stood against the wall and watched as the band strutted offstage. Damn if every one of them wasn’t fricking beautiful. Women—human and vamp, demon and were—flocked around them, touching, stroking and petting. As galling as it was, Pru couldn’t help but want to join them.

While every member of the band tweaked her hot-o-meter, the undisputed king was Magnus Crowe. He glided through the crowd like a giant cat, pausing to stroke a cheek here, to taste a pulse point there. Pru studiously ignored how many women he kissed as he made his way in her direction. Just like she tried to ignore the burning in her gut with each kiss and caress.

When he paused in the middle of the room, tongue shoved down the throat of some tall blonde vamp who’d wrapped both arms and one leg securely around him, Pru decided she’d waited long enough. The bloody undead bastard knew she was waiting on him; he’d agreed to meet with her and had no business putting her off to get his jollies. Okay, maybe the undead thing was a bit harsh, but the way she was feeling now, he’d be a dead-dead bastard before long.

With a ladylike little growl, she began to shoulder her way through the crowd. She must have looked even more dangerous than she felt, because the surrounding females quickly turned their fawning to the other members of the band, leaving a clear path to Magnus.


Magnus was stoked, the adrenaline coursing through his body as it always did after a show. It felt as though his very skin was electrified, drinking the lust and fever of the audience almost as greedily as he drank in their blood.

The blonde wrapped around him seemed to sense his hunger, drawing back from his kiss to offer her throat wantonly. It was tempting. Seriously tempting. Just as he lowered his head to take her up on her offer, something sharp jabbed him in the side, digging through his damp tank.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

He ignored it. All he had room for in his head was the euphoria and the bloodlust.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

This was so killing his buzz.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

“Dammit!” he roared. “What is so damned bloody important that it canna wait five minutes?” Magnus swung around violently, ready to shred whoever was foolish enough to get between him and getting off.

Oh, fuck.

The blonde, who was plastered against him like shrink-wrap, snapped something at their intruder, but Magnus tuned her out. Facing him, or rather facing his chest, was that odd little Longfellow woman. He’d forgotten all about her.

“I am so sorry to interrupt,” she said with acid sweetness. Damn if it didn’t sting. “But I believe we have an appointment?” Her emphasis on the word was obvious, as was her pique. Her big hazel eyes were narrow; her lush little mouth was a tight line; her stubborn chin was tipped pugnaciously up.

“Oh, bloody hell.” Magnus began the tedious process of peeling the blonde off him. “You know,” he told Pru, “I’d be much more use to you if you’d let me finish here.”

Oh, she didn’t like that. Two angry spots of color flushed her creamy cheeks.

“Again, I apologize.” Damn. She was pretty when she was pissed. The flush mantling her cheeks, the sparkle in her gaze, the way those full, luscious tits heaved with her harsh breaths. He felt his hunger zero in on her.

“I’m not a vampire; I’m a CPA,” she continued in that maddeningly sexy, prim tone. “I generally keep daytime hours. As it’s”—she glanced at the thin silver watch on her wrist—“two forty-five in the morning, and my alarm goes off in less than three hours, I was hoping I could impose upon you to take care of business before playtime.” She gave the glowering blonde a dismissive look.

“All right, then.” He gave a put-upon sigh that didn’t fool any of them and turned to the blonde, who was plastered along his back, stroking his torso. “I’ll have to take a rain check, luv.” He pressed a not-so-brief kiss to her pouting lips. “Duty calls and all that.

“After you, princess.” He waved Pru ahead of him with a slight bow that would have seemed gallant a few hundred years ago. If he hadn’t been sneering at the time.

“My name is Prudence,” she snapped. “Not ‘princess.’” She glared over her shoulder at him. “I do not like nicknames.”

“Then I’d best not call you ‘Prude,’ I suppose.”


The Coolest Cool Thing EVAH!

I’ve mentioned my SOUL SUCKING DAY JOB many times in my blog. And my author bio. And my personal correspondence.  But every now and again something happens there that BLOWS ME THE FUCK AWAY. Yesterday was one of those days.

When I taught in the comprehensive high school, there was a period of time when I had a group of the “artsy theatre kids” who’d come and hang out in my room during lunch. I loved them, and still see many of them regularly even though most are in their last year of college, or even graduated. During those years I first experienced the LGBT Day of Silence. My young artists, musicians and thespians came to school with duct tape over their mouths and pre-printed cards explaining what they were doing.

The first year, administration tried to suspend them all for creating a disruption. Unfortunately for administration, they’d recently endorsed a similarly charged political action day, so my brilliant sophomores and juniors were able to give the very logical argument that if administration was going to encourage the student body to wear black on a specific day in support of a controversial cause, they couldn’t turn around and penalize students for doing it on their own.


Once my babies graduated and left me for the wide world, the Day of Silence seemed to… well, go silent. The LGBT and LGBT-friendly community at my school seemed to evaporate. And when I transferred to the Alt Ed school? Oh. My. God. While there is a significant vocally gay population there, they are routinely shunned, bullied, and basically treated like shit. And no matter the conversations I initiate about how hate is hate no matter who’s the one directing it, and that if he’s not hitting on YOU, why does it matter if he likes guys, and just SHUT THE FUCK UP if all you can say is “that’s gay” or “you fag”… Well, those conversations either fell on willfully deaf ears, or were argued against with a vigor that I could only wish my students would apply to their writing prompts.

So. Over the summer one of the young ladies I love most, one of the three or four kids that made last year bearable, came out as bisexual. She started the school year with a girlfriend, and seems happier for the most part than I’ve ever seen her. (The girlfriend is also a former student – one who was angry and closed off, and whom I’ve seen smile more in the hallways between classes this year than I did when I was spending 90 minutes 5 days a week with her last year. Just sayin’.) Anyway, my Sweetie is reasonably popular, extremely bright and scarily articulate. I’ve been watching her quietly and methodically educate her peers since last September, and I’m in awe.

She came into my room yesterday morning dressed all in white, with a roll of white tape, and asked for a marker. I handed her a sharpie, and watched as she proceeded to write: No H8. Gay. Lesbian. Bi. So What? Stop Bullying! Then she clipped the tape loose and, before slapping it over her mouth said, “This is the last you’ll hear from me today, Ms. X. It’s the Day of Silence.”

Oh. My. God.

I immediately handed her a pocket-sized pad of paper and told her it was for “talking”. I scammed a piece of tape for myself and, with my coolest purple marker, wrote “STRAIGHT *NOT* NARROW”, and asked her to take lotsa pictures that I could share with my good friend Stephani Hecht, who is a warrior for equality here in Michigan.

I was amazed to see at least one student in every one of my classes, and a lot of students in the halls, with mouths taped shut, or even just wearing “Stop Bullying” buttons.

Really? Here in the bowels of Hell?

So, the conversations yesterday were… spirited. Often as frustrating as ever. But, with so many of their peers speaking out by NOT speaking, well some of the conversations took on a different tone. Do I expect the culture of the school to miraculously change? No, not really. But I *do* expect that the next time someone in my 3rd hour says “that’s so gay”, at least one other student will shut him or her down.

I can’t post pictures of my students for a variety of obvious reasons. But I can borrow this picture from the NO H8 website. I chose this one because these could be two of my students. And they are beautiful inside and out.

Happiness Is…

How painful I’m NOT finding the edits for Longfellow Seduced’s second edition. Happiness is also how freakin’ hot our

Angelo-in-a-kilt-with-a-guitar cover is!

I’m not at RT…

Most of my favorite book industry friends are in Chicago this weekend, busily basking in the joy that is the RT convention… I’m sitting on my couch with the Old Dude watching the Tigers at the White Sox. So, lacking RT shennanigans, I give you a pretty face from Chi-Town:

New White Sox manager Robin Ventura.

And a beautiful man from Detroit:

The stupidly talented, gorgeously beautiful Alex Avila. Sigh…

It’s that time of year…

The time that internet at home goes bye-bye. Yes, indeed, I’m once again offline, and it’s PISSING ME OFF!

So, here I am, posting so you know I’m alive, but I have no mancandy or excerpts or *anything* because I’m clandestinely doing this at the EDJ, and all my smut is on my computer at home. Dammit.

Instant Gratification Girl is NOT happy!

It’s Done! It’s Done!

Okay, not really. But I *have* finished the veeery rough first draft of what I’m calling “Happy Birthday to Me”, the prequel to Melting in which Ryan, celebrating his 21st birthday, literally falls into the lap of the Dom who will change his life forever.

It’s very rough, like I said, but it’s got a beginning, middle and end, which (based on how prolific I am NOT) is a huge deal!

So, here’s a pic that kinda fits the scene. Enjoy!