When I was speaking with Lissa recently about my first male/male release,
See the Light, I asked her if she wanted me to do a guest blog on a
specific topic. She suggested “why I write m/m”. I love it when people do
my work for me, so thanks to Lissa! 😉
I love m/m stories. I love reading them, and I loved writing See the Light.
So without further ado, five reasons I decided to write a male/male story.
1. I love men. And what’s better than one man? Two men! Especially when
they’re gettin’ down and dirty with each other.
2. There’s something rougher about the way men relate to each other. Sure,
we love reading those scenes with (to borrow a line from Crash Davis in
Bull Durham) long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days, but
there’s also something to be said for the rough, teeth clashing, lip biting
kisses that men seem more likely to engage in. Men don’t hesitate to slam
each other into walls, grab a butt roughly…
3. While there are always commonalities in any two people falling in love,
two men pose unique challenges, not the least of which concerns whether
they’re “out” or not. The two men in See the Light are definitely not
“out”, since one is a professional hockey player and the other is an
adviser and scout. I liked bringing the issue of gays in sports to the
4. Men are oftentimes ruled by their penises. We know this. If it’s
interesting watching one guy struggle with that, it’s even more interesting
to watch both of them try to deal with it.
5. In romance novels, there tends to be an emphasis on the happy-ever-after
– marriage! Kids! With a male/male, though gay couples certainly get
married and have children, the happy-ever-after tends to focus more on the
So what do you think? Why do you love male/male stories?
Title: See the Light
Release date: 2/26/13
Publisher: Loose Id
Word Count: 41,702
Hockey player Jason Monroe lives a double life—star defenseman and
soon-to-be Olympian on the ice and closeted gay man outside the rink. A
serious relationship is out of the question, and Jason makes do with
anonymous sex in barroom bathrooms, not willing to take the chance on
coming out as gay in a decidedly macho sport.
Advisor to the US Olympic hockey team Patrick Parker knows a thing or two
about being a professional hockey player who’s not out. He’s fifteen years
older than Jason, and when he senses the sexy younger man is interested, he
knows he shouldn’t give in to the attraction. The two men can’t keep their
hands off each other, though, and with each heated encounter it gets harder
to hide their relationship. Then their world blows up around them, forcing
them into the limelight. Will their love survive or be put on ice?
Jason stared at the other man, the lust burning him where he stood. He
moved even closer, like a moth to a flame.
*What the fuck am I doing?*
Apparently Patrick didn’t know either, because his expression became
*I can’t stop.*
“I need to do this.”
Not giving Patrick a chance to react to his words, Jason grabbed him, one
hand palming the back of Patrick’s head as Jason’s other arm snaked around
the man’s waist, pulling him into Patrick’s rock-hard body. It was obvious
the man kept in shape, despite his playing days being over, and a tortured
moan escaped before he could stop it. Jason dived into Patrick’s mouth as
the passion flared, melting him from the inside out. He hadn’t kissed a man
in years, and he realized how much he’d missed it as the kiss went on and
on, neither man willing to let the other go.
He could feel Patrick’s cock as it lined up with his, and even through
layers of clothing Jason felt the heat pouring off the other man. It made
him want to submit to anything Patrick desired, which confused him.
Honestly Jason couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a man’s dick in his
mouth, but right now he’d give just about anything to suck Patrick off.
Patrick pushed them backward until they crashed into the wall, never
letting their lips separate as he took control of the kiss. With a growl,
the older man reached down and cupped Jason’s ass, pulling their cocks
even closer and rubbing them together. Jason turned his head to the side
with a gasp to break the kiss before he passed out, but Patrick kept at
him, scoring his teeth down Jason’s neck to his pulse point.
“So fucking hot.”
Copyright 2013, Cassandra Carr
Cassandra Carr is a multi-award winning erotic romance writer with Ellora’s
Cave, Siren Publishing, Sybarite Seductions, Decadent Publishing, and Loose
Id. She lives in Western New York with her husband, Inspiration, and her
daughter, Too Cute for Words. When not writing she enjoys watching hockey
and hanging out online. Cassandra is the co-founder of two successful group
blogs, Romancing the Jock and Dirty Birdies, and participates in several
others as a contributor. Recently she was re-elected president of Western
New York Romance Writers.
For more information about Cassandra, check out her website , “like” her
Facebook fan page at
follow her on Twitter
I have my friend Cassandra Carr on today to promote her new BDSM release…
MASTER CLASS by Cassandra Carr
Publisher: Loose Id
ePublish date: 12/11/2012
Word count: 47,250
Genre: BDSM Contemporary
Ryan Tomasi feels like a failure. His marriage is officially over; the ink dried on the divorce decree. His friend Jack introduces him to BDSM and he agrees to attend a Halloween party at a club. A submissive approaches him, offering herself, and how can he refuse the kneeling beauty? They do a whirlwind scene and Ryan is addicted—both to dominance and to her.
Lisette Rinaldo is returning to the BDSM club for the first time since ending a bad relationship with her former master. She spots Ryan and is taken by the combination of self-assurance and nervousness the man displays as he takes in his surroundings. And after he gives her an incredible re-introduction to the lifestyle, she knows she needs to see the man again.
Ryan and Lisette explore each other and the lifestyle, but what started out as playtime quickly evolves into something more. The problem? Ryan isn’t ready to get serious again and Lisette doesn’t want to fall in love with a guy who can’t give all of himself to her. Both of them are going to have to break out of the bonds holding them back from happiness.
“What the fuck is an acceptable costume to wear to a Halloween party at a BDSM club?” Ryan Tomasi muttered aloud to himself. He did that a lot these days, since he lived alone after his recent divorce. “Sheesh.”
From his Internet research, he knew people who practiced BDSM—the term “practice” cracked him up every time—already dressed in some pretty outrageous outfits. Between the leather daddies and the pony play, as well as the other strange getups he’d seen online, Ryan wasn’t sure what to think. Full-body latex encasement? He shuddered.
But one thing was clear. He couldn’t keep fucking random women and feel good about it or himself. The whole mess had started after Ryan’s now ex-wife had blindsided him with divorce papers about a year ago, saying she didn’t love him anymore. The fact he’d loved her and had wanted to work on the marriage apparently wasn’t good enough, and Ryan found himself living in a rented house with nothing but his recliner and a futon to sleep on. Over the past year, he’d done what he could to rebuild his life, and now it was time to take the next step.
Ryan needed to find someone for more than a one-night stand and, it seemed, someone who wanted to submit to him, since he’d found he really liked some of this BDSM stuff, especially the dominating side. He felt like a fool on the bar scene, and he really wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy, though that had been his MO lately. He’d never even known there was a whole formal “thing” like BDSM until his friend Jack, a fellow professor at the college where Ryan taught English literature, had asked one day, while Ryan was lamenting his pathetic sex life, if he’d ever engaged in any BDSM activities. Ryan had been taken aback, to say the least. He’d thought that kind of thing was limited to porn. Real people didn’t get kinky like that, did they? Hell, he’d gotten married at twenty-two and had been with his ex-wife for almost fifteen years. It appeared he didn’t know shit about sex—kinky sex scene in particular.
Ryan had been shocked when Jack offered to let Ryan see what his submissive, Callie, and Jack did in some of their “scenes” so that Ryan could get a feel for what domination was all about. Jack didn’t allow any actual intercourse or other sexual contact between him and Callie when they got together, which Ryan totally understood, so there was a little bit missing from what he wanted to experience after reading how great the sex could be.
But just watching the way Jack dealt with Callie, and then having the opportunity to try a bunch of things out himself during subsequent play sessions with the two of them, had given Ryan a light at the end of what had been a very dark tunnel since the ex had walked out on him. He believed he’d finally found what he was looking for; what he’d been missing his entire life. The high from a woman submitting to him was the most natural, yet most powerful thing he’d ever felt, and Callie wasn’t even his submissive. What would that feel like?
Shaking out of his reverie, Ryan decided reinforcements were in order and called Jack. “Hey, man.”
“Am I interrupting anything?” He was almost afraid to ask.
Jack laughed. “If you’re asking me if Callie is tied up somewhere waiting for me to fuck her six ways to Sunday, no, you’re not interrupting anything. That’s later.”
“TMI, dude, TMI. Anyway, I need help.”
“You need a lot more than help.”
“Yeah, yeah. Seriously, I need to know what a Dom should wear to this Halloween party.”
“Uh, clothes? Usually only the submissives are naked.”
“Are you going to help or not? You’re the one who said I should go to this.” Ryan knew Jack was just messing with him, but as this Halloween party was his “coming out” of sorts as a Dom, he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.
“All right. I’ll take pity on you. What types of costumes are you looking at? What will make you feel comfortable?”
Ryan snorted. “Not sure anything can do that. I’m nervous as hell.”
“Remember, a Dom needs to portray an air of confidence. If you don’t, no sub is going to trust you enough to play with you.”
“I know. And by the time I get there, I’m sure I’ll be a lot calmer. I’ve been pretty good when I’ve played with Callie, haven’t I?”
Ryan could practically see the smirk on Jack’s face.
“Yeah, but I was there too. She knows better than to disobey me and that I would keep the play safe. Goes back to that trust issue. Plus, you didn’t have any sexual contact or anything that might’ve freaked you out. Speaking of that, you got your medical test results, right?”
“Yeah. Sent them to the club the other day.”
“Good. They won’t let you in unless you can prove you’re clean. Now, back to the costume. How about something easy like a police officer or a soldier? Some take-charge type of thing would be fitting.”
“Oh, I like the idea of a soldier.” Soldiers were powerful, respected—everything Ryan thought a Dom should project. It was the perfect costume to convey the image he wanted during his first public play. Ryan quickly typed that into the search engine of the costume store. “Awesome. They have a pretty cool one.”
“See how simple it is, once you’re not freaking out? I know this is all new and a little scary for you, but remember, kinksters are people too.”
“Yeah, yeah. You guys are going to be there, right?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t let you go into the big, bad world of BDSM all by yourself. Also, I’m your sponsor, so you can’t get in without me anyway this first time.”
“Okay, cool. See you then. And thanks for talking me off the ledge.”
Jack hung up, and Ryan looked over the costume specs. It had a camouflage shirt and pants, along with a set of dog tags. He had black boots already for when he did stuff around the house. Though he wasn’t imposing by any means at five-nine and one-eighty, he wasn’t tiny either. Hopefully the costume would make him look like a bit of a badass. He flexed his bicep. Maybe allow him to show off the muscles he was just starting to develop with regular workouts at the gym over the past several months.
* * * *
On Halloween night Ryan dressed in his costume and drove to the club. Jack and Callie were waiting just inside the doors, and when Jack saw him approach, he spoke to the bouncer, who waved Ryan through without a word. Jack was clad as Zorro, and Callie’s dress, if you could call it that, was liberally scored with slashes. It looked more like a bunch of black bandages than anything else, and Ryan wondered how long Jack would allow her to remain clothed. If he knew Jack—and he felt he did after playing with him several times and spending hours talking to him about BDSM and a whole host of other topics—not long.
He wasn’t sure what was appropriate to say to Callie, so he forced his gaze away from her and greeted Jack, who grinned.
“You can tell her she looks hot. It’s not like you’ve never seen her naked.”
Ryan smiled, relaxing. He pivoted back to her. “You look hot, Callie.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Jack gestured toward the door at the end of the short hall, and Ryan could hear a bass beat pounding from the other side. He nodded, swallowing thickly. Ryan needn’t have worried, though. As soon as he stepped into the room and looked around, his nerves settled.
The people around him were engaged in all manner of things, but even a cursory glance at the various scenes playing out before him made him finally feel like he was normal. He wasn’t a freak for wanting sex and control like this, despite what his ex-wife had said when he’d suggested some pretty mild stuff to spice up their sex life.
“What do you think?” his friend shouted over the music.
“It’s fucking perfect.” Ryan couldn’t have kept that note of awe out of his voice even if he’d tried.
Jack laughed. “I figured you’d say that. I’ll give you a tour, but we need to do one thing first.”
“Lose the shirt. You’ll look way more Dom-ish without it.”
“Dom-ish?” Callie repeated with a chuckle.
“You behave before I decide to leash you,” Jack threatened. “Or maybe we can give Ryan here some more practice with that paddle you hate so much.”
She looked down. “Whatever would please you, Master.”
“Seeing your beautiful ass bright red and ready to be fucked would please me greatly, but we need to babysit Ryan for a bit longer before we can play.”
Ryan pulled off his shirt and stuffed it into his brand-new toy bag. Who would’ve thought a duffel bag he got at an academic conference would come in handy to hold the instruments of pain and pleasure he’d spent a small fortune on?
He followed Jack through the club as the other man pointed out the public play area, the theme rooms, and the staircase to the private rooms upstairs. Then they all went to the bar, which served no alcohol so as to keep the clubgoers sober for play, as Jack explained in answer to Ryan’s puzzled question. They procured soft drinks—drinks were included in the price of the membership—and found a comfy couch that was close enough to the public play area that Ryan had a good view of several scenes taking place. Jack and Ryan sat, and Callie settled on a cushion in front of her Dom.
“That girl,” Jack said, pointing to a submissive tied to a St. Andrew’s cross as a man whipped her from thighs to shoulders, “is a hard-core masochist. As you can see, she’s not wearing a collar, so she’s not owned, but stay away from her. Until you get more comfortable with impact play, all you’ll do is frustrate both of you.”
Ryan nodded, forcing himself not to wince as the man laid another welt on her ass.
“That one,” his friend continued with a jerk of his head at another submissive, “is a horrible topper-from-the-bottom. She’s definitely not a good fit for you as a beginner. I’m not really sure why any Dom would play with her. It would drive me batty to have a sub questioning my every order.”
Jack dismissed a few more for one reason or another as they sipped their beverages. There weren’t a ton of subs running around without collars, and Ryan was beginning to believe none of them would pass Jack’s muster.
“She’s a pretty one,” Jack remarked, and Ryan followed his gaze. He nearly swallowed his can of soda pop whole. Pretty didn’t begin to describe the woman. She was a few inches shorter than him, from what he could tell in his current position, and had enough meat on her bones to be curvy. If he was going to be tying a woman up and fucking the hell out of her, he wanted to be sure her ribs wouldn’t crack at the slightest provocation.
Her long brown hair was piled on top of her head, leaving the slim column of her neck exposed. Ryan loved to nibble on women’s necks, and if he had this one restrained, he’d happily spend hours torturing her in that spot. She was wearing what looked like a harem girl outfit, with a jeweled bra and flouncy, gauzy pants. From the looks of things, Ryan was pretty sure she was naked underneath them.
Jack had been speaking with Callie but straightened up. “Callie said her name is Lisette, and she’s an experienced submissive who hasn’t been to the club as far as Callie knows since her split with her Dom a while back. She’s not owned, as you can see from the fact she’s not collared. The lack of a collar doesn’t always mean a sub is not owned, but at open parties like this, all owned submissives must be collared. As you know,” he continued with a grin in Callie’s direction, “some of us can be possessive bastards, and it cuts down on potential problems.”
“Makes sense,” Ryan murmured. His friend’s eyes suddenly widened a little in anticipation, and Ryan turned in the direction of his gaze.
“Hey, do you mind if we go take advantage of that spanking bench? At these parties, equipment doesn’t stay empty long.”
“No, go ahead.”
Jack helped Callie up and landed a hard swat on her ass. “Go get it for us, pet. I’ll be right over.” He turned to Ryan. “Feel free to watch us or anyone else. We should be back within a half hour or so. Callie’s been naughty lately and needs a good dose of the belt.”
Winking, he walked away, and Ryan laughed. Before Jack had agreed to bring Ryan here for public play, he’d insisted on several private sessions at the house he and Callie shared, so Ryan knew Callie’s favorite implement was the belt. He doubted she would be too upset if Jack used it tonight.
A completely naked woman, save for a collar, came by and took their empty soda cans. Ryan gave her a small smile but kept his attention focused on the scenes unfolding around him. Jack was busy tying Callie to the spanking bench, and the masochistic woman was still being whipped—Ryan couldn’t hold back his wince this time at a particularly hard strike—and a male submissive was going to town on his Mistress’s pussy like he was mining for gold. Turning away from them, he saw a female submissive strapped to what Jack had called a bondage table with cane marks decorating her ass in perfectly spaced lines and her Dom’s dick in her mouth. He’d never tried caning, but it looked interesting, if a little scary. Hell, almost everything looked interesting right now.
Ryan continued to watch as Jack bared Callie’s ass and started out lightly flicking the belt across it. He’d explained to Ryan how important it was to warm the bottom up by bringing the blood to the surface to prevent bruising, and Ryan had spent long hours in the past couple of weeks practicing with a pillow and the strap he’d ordered along with the other stuff Jack had said he’d need to be able to play. The club had a nice selection of implements lined up on the walls of the public play area, but Jack had recommended he get used to his own so he didn’t make a mistake and hurt a submissive.
He was just about to rise and make his way back to the bar when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The submissive Callie had called Lisette knelt directly in front of him, a bottle of water laid on her upturned palms. Ryan raised an eyebrow.
Copyright 2012, Cassandra Carr
“It’s a job. It’s not a hobby.” — Rosellen Brown
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!
Available from Loose Id Amazon
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
FB Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Tara-Lain/205042046209804