Guest Blogger Angel Martinez

Today I welcome friend and fellow author Angel Martinez. We're doing a little bit of bar hopping and talking  about her latest release, Vassily the Beautiful (appropriate, as we're staring at some rather beautiful men!), and Angel has bravely taken my infamous Rick Reed questions. While we... talk... to the waiters, why don't you see what she had to say? And then I'll coax her into talking about Vassily.

The Questions

)        You’re marooned on a small island with one person and one item of your choice—who is that person and what item do you have?

It’s going to sound like a cop out, but I’d have to have the DH with me. There are practical reasons for this – he’s handy and inventive, could make sure we had shelter and food. I could handle the food part, but it’s good to have someone with a mechanical tilt to his mind along. Sure, all that’s true. But we’ve also been together twenty-three years. We have little need to explain ourselves or to rattle on endlessly about nothing. We kinda come as a set at this point.

One thing? A portable satellite internet system. *g* You don’t expect me to stay on the island, do you?

2       Which musical would you say best exemplifies your life – and which character in that musical are you?

Jesus Christ Superstar? Kidding, kidding! It immediately sprang to mind, since we’d been talking about it. Seriously? I’d have to go with “Wicked” and I would be Elphaba rather than Galinda. Never the popular girl, maybe a little socially awkward, often too quick to speak my mind and say the things that people didn’t want to hear, I understand Elphaba and sympathize with her. Her social activism, her passion for what is right over what is legal resonates with me deeply.

3       Take these three words and give me a 100 word or less scenario using them:  men, outright, display

Rain spattered the shop window, peppering the cake display with translucent, moving shadows. Jeremy stared at them, too stunned to process.

“What did you say?”

“I love you?” Martin sounded less sure than his previous outright declaration.

“I thought you’d sworn off men.”

“Yeah.” Martin’s fingers twined with his. “Except you. Gotta love a cake princess.”

Jeremy snorted. “Cake empress, jackass. Don’t you forget it.”

Martin eyed the cakes in the window with a wicked grin. “I’ll give you a choice: kiss me or I’ll give you a crown to go with your title.”

For once, Jeremy didn’t choose cake.

       You’ve just been let loose in the world of fiction, with permission to do anyone you want. Who do you fuck first and why?

Oh, that’s a tough one. I think I’d go for Bren Cameron from C.J. Cherryh’s Foreigner series. I know, he’s not a big, tough Alpha. But he’s smart and persistent, an intellectual with courage. I go for brains and a dry sense of humor over muscles any day.

       What is your idea of how to spend romantic time with your significant other?

Dinner out, some place casual but where the food and the beer are equally good. Then back home, maybe for a movie. We spend a lot of time in each other’s company, but it’s still romantic to be able to relax and talk and laugh together.

       When you start a new story, do you begin with a character, or a plot?

Yes. Both. Sometimes. I will say that the seed of plot is usually planted first but that character needs to take root before the plot can move forward. They’re symbiotic elements for me, growing intertwined.

7      If they were to make the story of your life into a movie, who should play you?

*straight face* Kirsten Dunst. Me? Ha! Nobody could play me. I’m too odd. Maybe Judy Dench?

8      Who’s your favorite horror villain and why?

The monster in Frankenstein, and, no, I don’t mean the shambling Boris Karloff version from Hollywood, I mean the original from the novel. Thrust into a life he hasn’t asked for, he struggles to understand a universe in which a man can create him – and then hate his own creation. His analytical abilities are astounding, his perseverance and canny ability to survive are breathtaking. We’re supposed to find him revolting, as something unnatural and horrifying. As usual, I find my sympathies go with the monster. He simply wanted to understand his place in the world and to be accepted – don’t we all?

9      Do you have an historical crush and if so, who is it?

I’ve actually had quite a few over the years. I tend to go for the misrepresented, the misunderstood – Vlad Tepis, Attila the Hun, Richard III. All of these men exhibited such courage against overwhelming odds, against everything life threw at them. They’re solutions to everything might not have always been the best choices, but it’s the inventive nature of their decisions that attract me. Oh, and the tragic heroes, like Vercingetorix. The whole standing against the tide of tyranny and dying badly has a certain poignant appeal for me.

1   Is there a story that you’d like to tell but you think the world isn’t ready to receive it?

Hmm. I think the world is ready to receive just about anything we throw at them, in one way or another. It’s not as if we can really come up with anything new, after all. But I have had this odd notion, some day, when I have lots of time to do it right, to write a historical fiction based on Richard the Lion Heart’s life. Gay warrior prince and king in a world that expected things he couldn’t give.

Vassily the Beautiful

https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/products_id/830/?zenid=e0d176abd57e5ec5645c19bd4a210b15

In the city of New Makarov on a far-flung planet at the edge of ESTO space...

A young composer suffers neurological damage in the accident that killed his father...

An amoral, small-time drug manufacturer brings a dangerous new bio-engineered intoxicant to the city...

Deals gone wrong and subtle shifts in the underworld's dealings have made Baba Yaga sons, who act as her security force, edgy and trigger itchy...

Very few constants populate the equations in this new M/M Science Fiction novel, but when the variables collide? Let the mayhem begin...

Excerpt:

A faint glow of light appeared above him, growing brighter as he climbed, so he reasoned he must be near the top. As he craned his head back, his right foot slipped. His stomach plummeted to his feet as he banged hard against the ladder and clung there, his frightened gasps manifesting as white plumes in the dark.

Don’t turn into rubber now, legs, please, please don’t.

Shaking, panting, he found purchase again with his right foot and convinced his left hand to move, then his right. He shivered with more than cold, exhaustion and fear making each rung harder than the last. Forcing his body onward, he climbed. He had no choice and he was damned if he’d give up now.

The glow from the rooftop became bright enough for him to make out the building stones in front of him. Almost there…

He stopped as the whine of an airbike split the snow-blanketed silence. Risking a glance up, he nearly lost his footing again in shock. A flame-red airbike angled in toward the building and disappeared over the roof edge. The whine of its engine powering down made it obvious that the rider, it had to be the same one who had nearly hit him that morning, was landing on the roof.

All right, he seemed like a reasonable person. At least there would be someone on the roof when he got there to plead his case.

The surprise was considerably less when his second airbike encounter roared into sight overhead, the gold bike and rider muted to glowing tones in the soft roof lights. Baba Yaga’s security, they had to be, though the sun-yellow rider’s flamboyance seemed at odds with such serious employment.

Vassily sighed in relief when his head crested the roof ledge, a blurred view of figures moving about on solid rooftop threatening to turn his shaking legs to jelly. He was just about to hoist himself up when the third airbike knifed through the night sky, by the sound of it heading directly for him.

He cried out, legs kicking, when a rough hand seized the back of his shirt and yanked him from the ladder. Instead of falling, though, he hung suspended, dread creeping over him like morning frost as he realized he dangled from the grip of the black-clad rider who had passed him earlier.

The man maneuvered his vehicle over the roof, and in a voice like sandpaper dragged over broken glass, declared, “We have a spy.”

About Angel:

Angel Martinez is the erotic fiction pen name of a writer of several genres. Her experiences as a soldier, a nurse, a banker, and an underpaid corporate drone give her a broad view of the world and a deep appreciation for the astounding variety of people on this small planet. She currently lives part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware and full time inside her head. She has one husband of over twenty years, one son, two cats, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate. 

You can find Angel:

At her website: Erotic Fiction for the Hungry Mind

On Facebook: Angel Martinez’s Page

And Goodreads: Angel Martinez

Or send an email if you have questions, comments or smart-aleck remarks: ravenesperanza@yahoo.com

Angel, Vassily sounds really fascinating. I wish you all the best with it.

Any comments, questions or requests for Angel? She'd love to hear from you!

Now, if you'll excuse us, I think some of the boys are coming over to talk to us.

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie