Wednesday, June 26, 2013

"The Brat Whisperer" Now Available

Free stuff! My story for the M/M Romance goodreads group's Love Has No Boundaries event is now available on goodreads (if you're a member of M/M Romance), and should also be available to download soon on their lovely new website. Come check out "The Brat Whisperer" if you like DD, hot nerds, odd uses for blenders, and a smattering of angst.

Here was my photo and prompt:

Dear Author,

He’s alone— so alone. How did his life come to this? And who’s going to help him find his way?

Please let this be contemporary with no paranormal elements and an HEA. Other than that, anything goes.



My thanks goes to Becca for a great prompt, and to Lisa Henry, whom I warned I would need an 11th hour beta reader, and who helped me out in spite of my frequent unkind comments about the way she spells "realize."

Be sure to check out all the wonderful--did I mention free?--LHNB stories available now. And there are more to come! I heart summer.

And hey, how about the Supreme Court ruling on gay marriage? Not perfect, but better.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Giveaway at Kay Berrisford's

The Big Gay Wedding authors are over at Kay Berrisford's now. Comment on the posts to win copies of our books!

-Kate McMurray and J.A. Rock
-Cassandra Gold and Dev Bentham

The drawing takes place June 24.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Big Gay Wedding Interview at Romance Lives Forever

Happy Tuesday! I've been wildly disorganized as of late (and also my whole life). Just got back from South America and may or may not have slept a ridiculous number of hours after two days in airports and on planes. But here's something I do know: all five LI authors from the Big Gay Wedding Tour are at Romance Lives Forever today, answering questions about our books, writing, pets, and board games.    So stop by and check it out if you get a chance.

The Big Gay Wedding Tour:

Ah weddings – they bring out the best and worst in all of us. This month you're invited to Loose Id's wedding extravaganza where marriage equity means equal opportunity wedding disasters. Kate McMurray writes about the thorny problem of finding a hot date to one's ex's wedding while Cassandra Gold's hero agrees to be best man at his brother's wedding only to discover that his new in-laws include someone he's, um, met before. Meanwhile, in J.A. Rock's sequel, on the way to the altar the brat and his dom have to deal with everything from another bickering couple to an intimidating dildo. Dominique Frost explores whether a depraved hedonist can find love with the innocent and proper man he married for money. And Dev Bentham's story has an emotionally damaged catering chef who needs to tame his demons or lose the love of his life. Something borrowed, blue, old and new for everyone this month at Loose Id.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

The Big Gay Wedding Tour Continues

The LI authors' Big Gay Wedding Tour is in full swing. Check out the books and the stops--there are a lot of giveaways going on, including a big giveaway at our final two stops, RLF and Kay Berrisford.

Here's a mashup blurb we came up with:

Ah weddings – they bring out the best and worst in all of us. This month you’re invited to Loose Id’s wedding extravaganza where marriage equity means equal opportunity wedding disasters. Kate McMurray writes about the thorny problem of finding a hot date to one’s ex's wedding while Cassandra Gold’s hero agrees to be best man at his brother’s wedding only to discover that his new in-laws include someone he’s, um, met before. Meanwhile, in J.A. Rock’s sequel, on the way to the altar the brat and his dom have to deal with everything from another bickering couple to an intimidating dildo. Dominique Frost explores whether a depraved hedonist can find love with the innocent and proper man he married for money. And Dev Bentham’s story has an emotionally damaged catering chef who needs to tame his demons or lose the love of his life. Something borrowed, blue, old and new for everyone this month at Loose Id.

The Tour
Purple Rose Tea House: 6/12
Tara Lain 6/14 and 6/15

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Furreal: Meowdern Romance Advice with Allen Ginspurr--The Wedding Edition

To celebrate the release of The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker, Jayk and Amon's cat, Allen Ginspurr, is back on the blog to answer your wedding-themed questions in a special edition of Furreal: Meowdern Romance Advice. After the dubious suggestions Mr. Ginspurr gave last year's readers during the Wacky Wednesday release, I encouraged Allen to sit this one out. But he wouldn't have it.

So thank you to those who wrote in, and I ask not to be held responsible for any mayhem that ensues from following Mr. Ginspurr's advice. Take it away, Ginspurr.

Photo by MC Blackman

Ooh, kittens, it's been a while. I'm a little rusty, but I'll see if I can't solve some of your blessedly silly human problems. What have we got?

Dear Allen Ginspurr,

My significant other and I are marrying later in the year and are concerned about where to seat family members at the reception. My partner’s parents are divorced and have each married again. As the divorce was acrimonious, I am concerned about them being close together in what is a very small venue, given that last time they were in the same vicinity Marjory tried to run Brian over in her new car. Luckily it was a Toyota Yaris.

Also, in 1966 my Aunt Kay slapped my Aunt Celeste at a family christening and called her a whore. Despite the fact they are now both suffering bad arthritis and cannot form fists, they do have the tendency to bite and those dentures lock like bear traps.

Anxious in Australia

Here’s what you’re gonna do, Anxious. Are you with me? Take your medication if you need to. Look alive. This isn’t the end of the world. You’re gonna dig a pit. Shall we say 40-foot diameter? Okay, you’re in Australia, so that will mean nothing to you. Google your d*** meters—metres?—and get a conversion.

Throw ’em in there. Every one of them. The whore, the biter, the step-inlaws, and the hipster who sees the need for a car with the load capacity of a Mighty Max playset and the physical attractiveness of, say, a Mr. Bigglesworth—or in human terms, a Rob Pattinson. And you make them fight.

We used to do something similar at the animal shelter, when Trump would let us all out of our cages and we’d go to the puppy ward and arrange gladiator-type battles. (This was Trump, the cat ward’s Houdiniesque Maine Coon, not your human Donald). These pupfights were all the rage, until Frodo got soft (this was Frodo the three-legged Oriental shorthair, not the admirable Halfling hero of the fantasy series so popular among your chronically unpopular), renamed them adorabattles, and advocated to eliminate any trace of actual violence from the ring. It turned into a group of us going to the puppy ward every Thursday night to watch the little bastards sleep, until one by one we’d get bored and move on to the quarantine room to wake the sleeping sickies with shouts of “Who wants another vaccination?” Then Trump got put down and we spent Thursday nights in our cages.

Anyhow, yes, the relatives in a pit, fight to the death, last one standing gets to come to the wedding. Sort of a Hunger Games meets that movie with Russell Crowe in the wheat. This saves you on invitations, reception food, and embarrassment. It sounds like the aunts are nearing the end of their lives anyway. Time to send them to the big aunt farm in the sky.



Dear Mr. Ginspurr,

What would be a creative gift for the couple who has everything?

Pauline, my sweet. They don’t have everything. Trust me on this. And I think we may be able to help each other out. Do you know what a Florence Eiseman bonnet is? What about a line of products under the label Purrberry, made from allergy-safe polyester and designed to look like the popular demurely plaid human winterwear?

No? Trust me, Pauline. This is very…unique stuff. I just happen to have it. Not by choice, but by chance. There are certain members of this household who find the concept of cats in outfits amusing. They are twisted and deserve all of the worst wreckages life can inflict on an individual.

It will be, erm, difficult for me to part with these items, but I think I can. For a price.

Come to my house tonight around ten. The large human will be in bed, the small one will still be out on the town. I’ll leave a light on in the living room window. Knock three times on the front porch step. Then get the spare key out from under the decorative gourd near the rocking chair and let yourself in, because I can’t work doorknobs. The items will be ready.

Don’t let anyone see you.

In exchange, I ask only 43 cans of tuna, a few packages of Gorton’s frozen fish sticks, seven to twelve trout, and a signed copy of See Me. (What can I say? I'm a huge fan.)

I look forward to our dalliance with danger tonight, Pauline.

Tell this special couple Allen Ginspurr says, “You’re welcome.”


Meow-freakin’-wow-wow. What else is on the menu?

Dear Mr. Ginspurr, 

I'm writing my own wedding vows and I'm not sure where to start. I'm afraid I'll make it too personal and freak everyone out. I've looked into using poetry, but I'm worried that would make it sound too cheesy. Help!

-Suffering in St. Louis

Don’t use poetry. Big mistake.

Let me you something that happened to me not long ago, Suffering. I was cruising with my wingmeown, Moby (This was Moby the half-Himalayan tom, not the human singer. Though I have met the singer, and while a bit self-absorbed, he makes a mean Belgian waffle). The back of our car was full of queens—and this means something very different in the cat world than in, say, the world occupied by the gentlemen who pay my mortgage—and we were looking for a place to party. So suddenly Moby gets it in his head to try reciting his poem, “Your Whiskers, Source of Tactile Input.” There were some structural problems with the poem, and in certain places it forwent the emotional in favor of the technical, but truly, I think even if he had recited a Sidneyan sonnet, the reaction would have been the same. Those queens leaped from the car at the next traffic light.

Nothing, I mean nothing, turns a hot molly off like verse.

No, stick to a straightforward vow. Something like, “You’re pregnant, and I could do worse” (or “I’m pregnant,” whichever way it works) or “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather cosign a bunch of sh** with.”

Problem solved.


Dear Allen,

I'm about to marry a man I don't love. What should I do?



Don't marry that one. Marry one you do love. It's 2013. What is this, a Bollywood film?


Please tell me there's something more heartening in this grab bag of crazy.

Dear Mr. Allen Ginspurr (or if I may be so bold as to say - My Future Meowsband),

I'm your biggest fan! I've been reading your column for years now in Playpuss and it's so titillating. I'm madly in love with every bit of you and when I see you...hearts come out of my eyes!!

I've even attached a picture of me when I hear your name. (see attached photo) I can send you more. I even have some of me shaved, if you know what I mean *wink wink nudge nudge*

So please put this poor Southern girl kitty out of her misery and come and get me, you hot animal you! You know you want to! :)


Milly Marie
xoxoxo <3

Ahh, Milly. Milly.


Milly. It’s as if my tongue had been but half a tongue until it formed your name.


You may be so bold. You are so bold. Milly.

The plan sounds good, sweetheart. We’ll have to elope soon though, as I’ve just made a problematic black market deal involving bonnets, some drug-addled entreprenuisance’s idea of fashionable feline accoutrements, and a writer of high-class pornography. I need to get out of the country. How do you feel about Purris, or possible Meowlan? Long have I longed to see Litterthuania. You pick the destination, and we’ll set forth, Milly. There’s just one small piece of business to take care of.

You need to get that eye thing looked at, kitten. 


It’s a little disturbing. You look like something out of Bionicle, and I say that with the firm but gentle honesty for which I’m known. I would recommend Lasik surgery, but I fear adding more lasers to the mix wouldn’t help matters.

But let us focus on what is important right now, Milly. Milly Marie. Our love, which can transcend both distance and, possibly, laser eyes—though I’d rather not take the chance.

Meet me in one hour by the statue of Ponce De Leon. I’ll wear a white rose on my collar so you’ll recognize me.

Gosh, I’m bashful about the Playpuss thing. Me, bashful. It’s a night of firsts, Milly. And the first night of many we’ll spend together.

If there’s a fix for that eye thing.

My fondest fishes,


Look at that, even Allen Ginspurr found love this wedding season. Thanks again to all who participated, thanks to MC Blackman for the photo, and if you're so inclined, check out Allen in The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker, available now at Loose Id, Amazon, and ARe.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker is Here, and the Big Gay Wedding Tour Begins

The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker is here! Right now it is available on the Loose Id site, but I will update as it becomes available from other distributors.

Check out an early review from the Blog of Sid Love.

Want a chance to win a copy? I'm giving one away on the first stop on The Big Gay Wedding Tour, Joyfully Jay. I'm over there today talking about how my love for P.G. Wodehouse influenced the Wacky Wednesday series. Leave a comment for a chance to win.

The Big Gay Wedding Tour continues this month with these authors and these books at these places. We'll be doing lots of giveaways!

The Books

June 4:
Kate McMurray – Save the Date
J.A. Rock – The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker

June 11:
Cassandra Gold – Always a Groomsman
Dev Bentham – Bread, Salt, and Wine

June 18:
Dominique Frost – The Bitter Rednesses of Love

The Tour

Joyfully Jay: 6/4
Purple Rose Tea House: 6/5 and 6/12
Flirty Author Bitches: 6/7
Armchair Reader: 6/11 and 6/18
Tara Lain 6/14 and 6/15
Romance Lives Forever: 6/18
Kay Berrisford 6/19-6/21

If you're interested, check out my pre-tour stops at Jessewave and Lisa Henry's blog.

And if you liked The Good Boy, voting is going on now at Sid Love for Book of the Month nominees, and The Good Boy is on the poll. You can vote here.

Lastly, here is an excerpt from The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker.

Chapter One

I was lying in bed on a Saturday morning while my partner—well, fiancĂ© if you wanted to get technical—sucked lazily on my cock, when I accidentally leaned on the TV remote. The channel guide popped up, reducing the porn we were watching to a tiny square in one corner of the screen. 

I grabbed the remote, intending to exit the guide, but I got distracted by my viewing options. Zirconia Mania on the home shopping channel. Cartoons. The family network was showing Babe: Pig in the City. 

“What’s up with animal sequels?” I asked. 

Amon slid his lips off my dick. “What?” 

He blew lightly on my spit-covered balls. I squirmed. 

“Why do sequels to animal movies always involve the animals getting lost in the big city? Babe: Pig in the City. Homeward Bound 2: Lost in San Francisco. Even the second Jurassic Park has a T-Rex loose in L.A.” 

Amon glanced over his shoulder at the TV. “Why don’t you concentrate on coming before my jaw locks?” he suggested, taking me down his throat once more. 

The man was so literal, practical, and focused. When he had a task to do, there was no time for speculation. I used to think that kind of efficiency was something that came with age. He was forty and I was twenty-five, so it made sense that he knew how to pay bills on time, talk to insurance companies, and cook things besides spaghetti, and I didn’t. But considering I hadn’t made any significant strides in the maturity department since about age twelve, maybe Amon’s hyperadultness was a rare and precious gift. 

I leaned back and tried to focus on the square of porn. We didn’t usually watch porn while having sex, but every once in a while it was kind of hot. I tried not to read the titles of shows on the guide. But oh my God, there was a Housewife Island marathon on channel fifty-two. And Jennifer’s Body was on sixty. Finally Amon lifted my right leg off the coverlet and slapped the back of my thigh three times. Somebody spanks me while my cock is down their throat, there’s no way I won’t come. 

Amon scooted up the bed with my splooge still on his lips and kissed me. “Happy anniversary,” he whispered. 

It had not occurred to me I was being blown because it was our anniversary. 

It had not occurred to me today was our anniversary. 

And in fact, it was kind of news to me we were still celebrating our first-date anniversary. Because we were getting married in, like, a week, and I kind of assumed the wedding anniversary would take the place of the dating anniversary.

But I didn’t want to admit that, since Amon clearly still intended to acknowledge and celebrate the latter. 

I smiled at him. “Just you wait until I give you your present,” I said, trying to make my voice husky. I sounded a little like Richard Harris in The Chamber of Secrets. 

Amon’s brow furrowed. “You got me something?” 

“Oh, I got you something.” I put one arm over my head, hoping I looked unspeakably sensual. 

“I didn’t get you anything except the blowjob,” he said. “I guess I assumed with the wedding, we’d have a new anniversary to celebrate.” 

This was my opportunity to laugh and say I was glad he thought so, because I certainly didn’t have an anniversary present for him. Instead I said, “I just thought since this might be our last first-date anniversary, I’d better make it good.” 

He propped himself on his elbow, and I watched his arm muscles bulge under his tanned skin. Fair as I was, I burned too easily to tan and had spent the summer either vampire-pasty or highlighter pink. 

I loved when he looked at me. His dark eyes could say just about anything he needed them to. Right now they were saying something like, You’re an odd duck, Jayk Parker, but I love you. They said that a lot. Sometimes I made them say things like, I’m going to lick you in front of this crowded bus stop, when what they were really saying was, I’d like to lick you in front of this crowded bus stop, but because I’m a business professional and someone who finds solace in society’s rules about what constitutes appropriate public behavior, I will lick you when we get home. Or, Jayk, stop thinking about me licking you and pay attention to my instructions about the dry cleaning. 

A visual learner,” my mother always said. Words went in one ear and out the other, but I paid attention to pictures, videos, facial expressions, and body language. My mother used to give lectures that left no impression on me at all, but I could still feel the dread and despair from those moments when she turned her back on me in frustration or exhaustion. 

I supposed I was a tactile learner too. My stomach clenched a little as I realized that what I was telling Amon now, with the purest and sweetest of intentions, was a lie. And No Lying was a rule Amon had been enforcing with particular vigor lately. My gaze moved down his arm to his hand—wide, solid, and familiar. That hand could make me feel so good, but it was capable of producing an ungodly sting when applied to my ass as a corrective measure. 

“So when do I get this incredible gift?” he asked. 

“Later,” I said, running my hands down his side and over his hip. 

He got up to make breakfast, and I dressed slowly, trying to figure out how I could slip out in the next few hours and get him an awesome anniversary present. 

I’d kind of shot my wad last year when I bought us a trip to San Francisco to the Folsom Street Fair for his fortieth birthday. We’d had a great time there, and I was still ridiculously proud of myself for pulling it off. All other gift possibilities now paled in comparison. 

I ran through the list: flowers. Dumb. 

Chocolates. Amon and sugar didn’t mix. 

Me, cuffed to the bed, dressed like a naughty maid and tied with a big red ribbon. 

No. I’d used that one too many times already. 

I needed something unique but not too expensive or outlandish. 

And then I remembered the gift I’d gotten at my groomal bath.

Copyright © J.A. Rock

Monday, June 3, 2013

Politics in LGBTQ Fiction

I'm over at Jessewave today talking gay marriage and using politics in LGBTQ fiction. Wave asked if I would write a post about gay wedding fiction. I agreed eagerly and then realized I've never read a gay wedding book in my life. So I wrote this post instead.

Homo Festivus: Putting Celebration Before Politics in Gay Wedding Fiction.

Join me tomorrow at Joyfully Jay for a discussion of brattery, and here on this blog, where love guru Allen Ginspurr answers your wedding questions.

The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker comes out late tonight from Loose-Id.