Hi everyone.I’m Tara Lain and I write the Beautiful Boys of Romance. I’m delighted to be making my first visit to Lissa’s blog.My new book Brush with Catastrophe (the sequel to Spell Cat) releases today (happy dance!) and is the story of a male witch. When I tell people that, some ask why he’s not called a warlock or sorcerer. So let’s talk about boy witches.
I created my own paranormal world for Spell Cat and continue it in Brush with Catastrophe. I didn’t like the idea that the males and females had different names so I decided that my hero would be called “witch”. It turns out (although I didn’t know it at the time) that a majority of people in witchcraft today call male witches–witch. The word has no gender. According to some sources, the term warlock in Old English means “oath breaker” and, therefore, can be pejorative. This idea seems to be fairly common among Wiccans. Another source I read said that Warlock means “Lord of the Lake” and that the female equivalent is Laylock. Regardless, warlock is seldom used to describe witches today. Wizard is a popular term for a man who practices magick thanks to “Harry Potter” and the word simply means wise man. Sorcerer is another possible name and may be used interchangeably although the word sorcerer can have a black magick or evil connotation in some circles. All in all, the most used name for a male who practices magick is witch.
In Brush with Catastrophe, my hero, Sammy Raphael, considers himself a crappy witch. Other witches have the ability to change the appearance of a thing not by changing the thing itself but by altering people’s perceptions. They can command weather and control energy. They cannot heal themselves though they can heal each other to some degree. They can sense power in another and a really powerful witch can even control the weather and bring down lightning. Sammy can paint. He’s a prophetic painter. He wakes up in the morning and finds he has painted something that always happens. But these things never seem to be of any importance. Then he paints this really handsome guy— and that’s our story. The tale of how a seemingly powerless young witch, with the help of the black cat familiar Aloysius, is faced with having to change the world to save his race and the man he loves.
Would you like to win a $10 Gift Card or a signed copy of Golden Dancer in print, or a bag of swag, or a choice of ebook from my backlist? Just leave a comment WITH YOUR EMAIL. Winners will be announced on November 5th! Just come to my book blog Beautiful Boys Books to see the winner. Hint– every comment is entered for the Gift Card, but the other prizes will be awarded to people who comment on the “mystery” blogs during the tour. Only I know which ones they are. So hop over to Beautiful Boys Books and look at the tour schedule. You may want to add a comment to some of the other blogs just to up your chances of winning the prizes. And thank you so much for visiting!
Excerpt R: Brush with Catastrophe by Tara Lain; MM Paranormal with Witches!
Sammy Raphael is a crappy witch. And on top of that, he can’t get a boyfriend. Where other supernaturals can bring down lightning and manifest wealth, Sammy can paint. True, the “prophetic” paintings he does at night always come true, but they never predict anything important. Then he paints a gorgeous guy and it turns out to be his secret crush, Ryder. But the guy has changed so much he’s almost unrecognizably beautiful. And then Sammy paints an angel who turns out to be a witch. But is that witch also a devil? And why the hells does Ryder keep changing? Aloysius, the black cat familiar, always backs the winner. So why is he backing Sammy?
Sammy sank to the floor in front of the easel, and Aloysius came over and started licking his hand. It felt like someone had stuck a butter knife in his heart and was turning it slowly.
“What the hells just happened?”
Sammy hung his head between his bent legs. “Why did he come here? He could have warned me at school. Why did he care for me and sleep with me? Oh gods, Al, why did he hold me?” Heat pressed behind his eyes. “I never wanted anyone else. Not even Lucien. Even if Lucien had been the most faithful boyfriend on earth, I didn’t really want him. I’ve always wanted Ryder, and that passion is stupid and useless like everything. And now he’s made it worse.” Sammy collapsed on his back, holding his stomach. “Why did he do it? Why did Ryder—”
The front door flew open with a crash against the wall, and in two steps Ryder stood in the middle of the room. “Am I beautiful to you? Am I, Sammy?”
Sammy sat up. He couldn’t catch his breath. “Yes. You always have been.”
Ryder stared at Sammy, his green eyes like emerald lasers. In a big step, he cleared the space between them, reached down for Sammy, and pulled him to his feet. “Good, because I’m sick of pretending you’re not beautiful to me.” And he dropped his head and covered Sammy’s mouth with his perfect lips.
Was this happening? Sammy’s mouth was so far open in astonishment that Ryder’s tongue slipped right in. Did the guy know what he was doing? Had he lost his friggin’ mind? Did Sammy care? Hells, no. He wrapped his arms around Ryder’s neck and sucked that sweet tongue into his throat. No strawberries. Just Ryder deliciousness. His new favorite flavor.
Somewhere in the background, Aloysius began to purr so loudly the neighbors must have heard him.
Sammy’s tongue danced with Ryder’s. The man really knew how to kiss, but the idea that it was Ryder practically made Sammy faint. His cock stood at full attention, but he tried to keep his hips away from Ryder. Didn’t want to scare the guy.
Until Ryder’s strong hands gripped Sammy’s butt and pulled him tight against a rigid pole in his jeans. Oh yeah, that was the cock Sammy had tried so hard not to feel last night. But now he’d gotten a full-on invitation. He raised a leg and hooked it over Ryder’s hip to get closer. Ryder grabbed his calf and pulled Sammy even tighter until the ridges of the cocks in their pants were rubbing together hard and hot. Sammy pulled his head away from the kiss. “Is this really happening?”
Ryder pressed his lips against Sammy’s ear. “Believe it. I could barely keep my cock out of your ass last night. I wanted to fuck you so bad I was hard all night.”
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“No, dreaming of pushing my dick inside you. Can I, Sammy? Can I?”
“How fast can we get to the bed?”
Ryder picked Sammy up. “Last night I was practicing.” He laughed. It only took a few steps to get to the bed. Ryder laid his burden gently on the straightened covers, unfastened Sammy’s fly, and dragged the jeans down his hips. Then he stopped and stared. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long. Seeing your cock.”
“You saw it last night.”
“But I didn’t think I could have it then.”
Sammy’s head was going to explode. “I had no idea you wanted it. Aren’t you straight?”
Ryder grinned. “Never.”
“Then why in hell have you been drooling over every pair of tits in New York?”
“It’s complicated. Can I fuck you now and explain later? My cock hurts.”
Tara Lain’s first erotic romance novel was published in January of 2011. She’s now on book 16. Her novels have garnered awards for Best Series of 2011, Best Contemporary Romance, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm, and she carries her promotional instincts into her writing career as well. She lives with her soul-mate husband in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences , Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!
Author blog: http://taralain.blogspot.com
Book blog: http://beautifulboysbooks.blogspot.com