Hi everyone — Before you read the below post from Sarah and Shannen, i have to make my horrible confession. As some of you know, i’m in the middle of moving out of a huge house into a smaller one and the house i’m moving into is being remodeled–significantly! So it’s a construction zone. I have boxes to the ceiling in the garage and can’t move anything except basics into the house because the rooms aren’t finished. In this incredible mess which has me more discombobulated than i’ve ever been in my life, i lost my blog schedule. Well, not lot. It’s here somewhere. But all that said, Sarah and Shannen sent me their post for the “5th”. I thought it was Dec 5th and posted it a month early! So this is a preview of what sounds like a fabulous book coming out in a month! In January, i’ll tell you more about the book, okay? But meanwhile, consider yourself an insider and read this preview courtesy of my discombobulation. *head desk* Sorry ladies. I will now go hide under the covers!  LOL

Here’s the post —

Please welcome some new friends and fellow Dreamspinner authors, Sarah and Shannen Brady, who are bringing you a novel with fire, pyrokinetics, and pastry! Does that sound like fun or what? It also has a lot of heat, and adventure. Check it out below and i’ll go back to the endless task of UN-packing. (BTW, the three of us share a love/hate relationship with commas). Take it away, Sarah and Shannen —

Sarah and Shannen Brady are a mother/daughter team writing paranormal romance, both m/m and m/f, together. Sweet Fire is their second novel, their first m/m, and their first with Dreamspinner Press.

Hi. This is Sarah, the mom part of our team. Thanks so much, Tara, for inviting us today. Several months ago, when we were shopping for a publisher for Sweet Fire and entertaining a couple of different offers, I was in the middle of reading (and re-reading) Tara’s Harker Pack books. I saw her name on the Dreamspinner authors page and just emailed her out of the blue. She had nothing but good things to say about DSP and we were convinced to go with them too. Best decision we’ve ever made. Thanks for that too, Tara.

This crazy journey, from two years ago, “Hey Mom,we should write a book,” to this, our second book release party in three months, has been absolutely surreal. We set out to write a book. Now we have two, with five more in various stages of completion. I’ve learned so much in that time that it’s a wonder my dizzy little head doesn’t explode and half the time I still don’t know what I’m doing but there’s one thing I know.

Being an author is less about God-given talent and more about sheer, dogged, pig-headedness.

It wasn’t until after the first drafts of both books were written that it started to get hard. The first time I entered Healer in a contest and got flayed by every judge across the board, I was crushed. “What to they mean, “Is this a romance or a medical drama?” I told Shannen I was just too stupid to be a writer and pulled the covers over my head for three days. At the end of the third day, I threw the first twenty-five pages in the garbage and started re-writing the rest.

The first time I entered Sweet Fire in a contest, I didn’t ask them if they accepted m/m books. I just sent it off. I got three scores – 99/100 “Get it published right now.” 87/100 “Good story but it’s starving to death for lack of commas.”And 56/100 “Don’t quit your day job.” This time I only buried my head for half a day before deciding that somebody was a narrow-minded ass and moved on. (Our Dreamspinner editors eventually found a bunch of spare commas for our starving novel.)

Shannen laughs at me because that’s apparently my usual pattern. I never stop to think if I know how to do something before I dive in head first. Then, when I run up against the brick wall of my own ignorance, I quit. That’s it. Cold Turkey. Too Stupid To Live. Done forever. I walk away and tell everyone who will listen that I’m just not wasting my time anymore. I go to bed, convinced I’d be better off sticking to my accounting, where at least I’m not completely brain dead. Then, in the morning, I sneak the rumpled pages out of the trash can, straighten them out with my quilting iron, and start on the new angle that miraculously came to me in the night.

I’ve had lots of practice with that particular routine. Shannen spent 11 years as an Irish step dancer. You know, like Riverdance? Yeah, that’s pretty awesome. I spent most of those years making elaborate beaded and embroidered costumes for competition and performance. I loved doing it and together we made some pretty amazing things over the years. I never considered when I started that I didn’t really know how to sew. The last dress we made didn’t even come with a pattern for the shape of it. I saw one on the internet and lusted after it. The inventor gave me her blessing to try but she couldn’t tell me much about how to do it. I just bought yards of cheap fabric and started playing. I can’t count the number of times I told Shannen, “Sorry kid. You’re not getting this dress. It can’t be done. I’m too stupid for this.” Then the next day I’d roust her of bed with a brand new plan. “If we just do it this way, it has to work.”

Now with two books actually out there in the world, I think I’m past the “can’t be done” stage for writing but I’m still running into brick walls. Web sites, blog tours, Twitter, Goddess save me, Rafflecopter? Who knew writing a book came with so many hard things? Fortunately, I have a brave and dedicated partner who drags my head out from under the covers, laughs at my drama and demands the next scene, the next blog, the next @#^&^% raffle thing. It’s a good thing pigheadedness runs in the family.

If you have any interest in our methods, our madness or more details on our books, out or upcoming, feel free to visit our own website, www.sbradybooks.com, like us on FaceBook SBradyBooks, or follow us on Twitter @sbradybooks. Now for the good part. Let’s have a peek at Sweet Fire, Released January 2^nd from Dreamspinner Press.

Between Homeland Security’s Gifted Agenda and the bigotry of a fearful populace, having paranormal Gifts is a dangerous thing. Pyrokinetic Aaron Flores knows firsthand how difficult it can be to control his power. Still, he runs his bakery and never gives up on finding his Happily Ever After. When Aaron’s cousin asks him to check on her former EMT partner, Aaron’s chance has finally arrived. He’s determined not to let anything stop him from catching (and keeping) his man.

Ramón Del Rio spent three days at the tender mercies of HOMSEC agents when his former partner was taken. He wants nothing to do with a Gifted guy, but Aaron is nothing if not persistent. He’s a pastry chef after all, and the way to a man’s heart really is through his stomach. The physical passion they share is the icing on the cake. Just when Ramón decides that having Gifts might not be a deal breaker, someone close to Aaron decides his fire needs to be put out—permanently. Ramón will have to face his fears to save them both.

Excerpt:

Ramón burst out into the street to hear the scream of burning rubber. A dark sedan peeled recklessly away from the curb and disappeared in the surging traffic. The car, an old black Impala from the quick look he’d gotten, seemed to have no plates at all. Goddammit!

He turned around to find Aaron standing in the doorway of the bakery, watching him anxiously. When Ramón turned to walk back toward him, his lean shoulders sagged in exhaustion. Out of patience with this whole mess, Ramón caught Aaron’s elbow and steered him firmly back inside.

“This has gone too far. If the cops don’t catch this guy, it’s never gonna end. Enough! We’re calling the damn cops.” He pulled out his phone, then stood there in shock as Aaron snatched it out of his hand and banged it roughly on the table behind him. Aaron’s voice was hoarse with stress and anger.

“You of all people should understand why I can’t have a bunch of cops crawling through here. Look at this!” He waved his reddened hands at the carving on the floor.

“It says freak, and it’s surrounded by flames. You don’t think the investigators”—he spit that word like the foulest profanity—“will wonder about that just a little? Whoever is doing this knows who and what I am. That’s why they’re doing it. Think about what happens to me when those police reports go in saying I’m being harassed because I’m a Fire-Starter. Don’t you think maybe someone else might be interested to know that? You still have nightmares about your last round with these bastards. Do you really want to do it all again? I don’t think they’ll let you just walk away this time.”

All the blood drained from Ramón’s face, and a rush of dizziness weakened his knees, but he gripped the glass countertop and sucked in a deep breath. No. It can’t happen that way. It won’t. He reached out and gripped his irate lover by his upper arms and gave him a shake.

“Aaron, honey, calm down. It doesn’t have to be that way. The cops don’t have to know anything about what you can do to find this guy, and we have to do something. My buddies at SPD are sure this is just going to get worse and….” He was interrupted when Aaron made a choked sound.

“You told your cop friends about this? About me? You knew I didn’t want any cops involved.” The shock and horror in Aaron’s golden eyes made Ramón’s breath hitch in panic, and he tightened his hands on the man’s lean arms. He had to make Aaron understand.

“It’s just a couple of friends, and I didn’t tell them anything about your Gift. I was worried about you, and I didn’t know what else to do.” Suddenly Ramón felt a flush of anger in his gut. He knew he was squeezing Aaron’s arms too tight, but he couldn’t seem to let go.

“Goddammit, Aaron, I did what had to be done. You’re not being rational about this.” He flexed his fingers in another little shake.

Aaron’s pale skin flushed an ugly red in outrage, and suddenly Ramón’s hands were warm, no, hot. Fuck! He released Aaron’s arms with a curse and staggered back. Blue fire danced along Aaron’s hands and arms, all the way up to where Ramón had been gripping. As Ramón stared in shock, the blue fire danced for a moment in Aaron’s brown eyes as well. Holy shit!

Ramón turned away without another word, snatching up his phone as he headed for the back door. No way was he going to stay there while Aaron lost it and turned that fire on him. Ramón listened all the way to the door for some sign that Aaron wanted to stop him, though he didn’t have any idea what he would do if it came. It never did. Ramón walked out the door and didn’t look back. The slam of the door burned like fire in his heart.

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