The Questions
1)
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?
Hmmm… not sure there’s anyone I’d force to be trapped on an island
with me! *lol* If I don’t bring a person can I have two things instead? Yes?
Awesome! I’d choose a case of paper and one of those mechanical pencil sets
with lots of lead.
2)
Which musical would you say best exemplifies
your life – and which character in that musical are you?
The Wizard of Oz. Definitely. And I’m Dorothy: delusional, bullshit
detector completely busted (but in my case I broke it—if someone wants to lie
to me it’s really none of my business why J), and loyal. Or maybe I’m the Wicked Witch:
driven, passionate animal lover who can’t catch a break? You decide.
3)
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?
What a fun question! Assuming she’s into it I’d choose Harley Quinn.
I’ve always been a sucker for a badass chick on a Harley. J
4)
What is your idea of how to spend romantic time
with your significant other?
A nice day-long ride with a picnic at the midpoint. Bonus points for
beautiful sunny day, and a picnic in a meadow or beside a stream. I don’t have
decent riding clothes anymore though, so if anyone has an empty seat on their
Harley I’ll need a little notice. ;)
5)
When you start a new story, do you begin with a
character, or a plot?
Almost always a character. Only one story started with a plot and it’s
not published yet (and may never be). Sometimes I only have a vague idea of who
the character might be, but once I get into the story they flesh out. Or the
story fizzles and someone else starts talking, and then I chase that story
instead.
6)
If they were to make the story of your life into
a movie, who should play you?
If I can only choose living actors, Kathy Bates or Teri Garr. They’re
both good at playing awkward and could carry a movie even if I couldn’t. I
don’t know why anyone would make a movie about me, but it would be fun to meet
either of these ladies.
If they can be alive or dead (because this is strictly hypothetical
anyway) I’d choose Grace Lee Whitney. Just because I can.
7)
Who’s your favorite horror villain and why?
I love-love-love Dr. Herbert West (and Jeffrey Combs, who brought him
to life in 1985). The Re-Animator films are some of my favorites, they have it
all: a cool story, excellent actors, amazing practical effects, creepiness and
humor!
8)
Do you have an historical crush and if so, who
is it?
Sort of. I’ve always been fascinated by women who lived exciting lives
that seemed almost impossible for their time—like the pirates Anne Bonny and
Mary Read. I’m not sure everything I’ve read about them is true (because I’m
woefully under-educated) but it’s fun to think about them having adventures,
living as equals with men during the Golden Age of Piracy.
9)
Is there a story that you’d like to tell but you
think the world isn’t ready to receive it?
Haha, you mean besides
Torque?
Yes, I have a bunch of them and I’ll probably write them. I’m not sure if
they’ll ever be published, but I hope the genre of LGBTQ+ Romance will keep
growing so everyone can have their happily ever after. Even if it doesn’t I
plan to keep on writing the stories of bisexuals, non-binary characters, and
people whose greatest struggle is to survive (in other words,
not billionaires
J).
Author Name: Charley Descoteaux
Book Name: Torque
Release
Date: February 23, 2016
Blurb:
Sometimes
letting things get complicated is the best way to figure it all out.
Mick Randall is on the run, from the biker culture he grew
up in and his impossible vision of love. Alaska should be far enough to escape
his old life—until he rolls into a wrecking yard and gets lost in a pair of
pale, bottle-green eyes.
Scotty Bell has spent years learning to channel his fiery
temper into the heat of a welding torch. His sexual heat has always been slower
to ignite, but one look at Mick rouses confusion alongside desire. In all his
life, he’s only been attracted to one other person—his best friend, Mercy
Taylor.
Mick lands a temporary job at the yard, and finds an uneasy
crash pad at Scotty’s place…where the ragged ends of his emotions get tangled
up in Scotty and Mercy’s relationship.
But when Mick hears a Harley engine from his past bearing
down on him, his first instinct is to go back to the half-life he’d been
living. Lest his secrets destroy the only two people who’ve ever made him feel
whole.
Warning: Contains references to abuse, subversive ideas
about sexual identity and gender expression, and a free-range bisexual on a
mission.
Pages or Words: 47,337 words
Categories: Bisexual, Contemporary,
Fiction, Ménage/Poly, Romance, *Trans, Asexual, LGBTQ+ Fiction
Excerpt:
Copyright ©
2016 Charley Descoteaux
All rights
reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
Mick slept on the couch for two weeks before Scott let him get dinner. Mick
brought a pizza, hot wings and a six-pack. When he offered Scott a beer, Mick
thought for a second he was about to get decked.
“No thanks, I don’t drink. But you go ahead.”
Mick put five bottles in the fridge and
popped the top on the sixth. The long pull of rich beer felt like cool water
after he’d been walking for weeks in the desert.
“Never?”
“Nope. I got enough of that before I
was even born, I don’t need any more.”
It only took half a beer for Mick to
get past the uncomfortable feeling he should’ve asked Scott to tell him more,
or that he should’ve switched to Mountain Dew. Scott rented an On Demand movie,
something forgettable with vampires, and they sat in their places on the couch
and divided their attention between the movie and the pizza for the next two
hours. Tom camped out in his usual spot between their thighs, graciously
accepting all the chicken and pepperoni tributes offered to him.
After the movie was over they watched another one on HBO, but didn’t pay much
attention to it. Mick had a nice buzz going and was happy to sit back and
listen to Scott talk about his project—the VW Microbus he was converting into a
flatbed. A warm, fuzzy feeling Mick almost didn’t recognize as happiness set up
camp in his gut, and life was good.
He thought, more than once or twice,
that Scott leaned toward him in a way that was a little more than friendly, but
it had to be the beer.
Too bad.
Mick jerked in surprise when he realized he’d started to lean toward Scott. He had
no right to be “more than friendly” to Scott. None at all.
Scott reached out to grasp his
shoulder. “You okay, Mick?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Are you ready for bed?” Scott kneaded
his shoulder, sending a current through his body.
“The movie isn’t over.”
“It’s not very good. If you don’t want
to finish it, that’s okay with me.” Scott smiled and sat back against the
couch, releasing Mick’s shoulder.
He couldn’t help himself, he leaned
forward. Only a little bit. He didn’t want to lose Scott’s touch. In that moment,
he couldn’t think of anything more important than Scott touching him, not even
self-preservation.
Mick Randall wasn’t a stranger to
self-medicating with alcohol but before he found Bell’s he hadn’t had a lot of
money to spare, and lately he hadn’t had the time. Together, those
circumstances had turned him into a lightweight. That had to be the explanation
for why he saw a come-on in every glance and heard innuendo where surely Scott
didn’t mean any. He’d have to be a lightweight to want so badly to respond to
Scott’s touch with an embrace.
Maybe I should quit drinking.
Mick wasn’t capable of walking in a straight line by the time he hit the can,
but it didn’t matter. Four beers was plenty and he’d take the other two out of
Scott’s fridge the next day and remember not to bring more. If he wanted a
drink, he wouldn’t have to drive far. When he left the bathroom his thoughts
centered on that warm, happy feeling, and what he could get up to the next day.
Before he knew what was happening, Scott had him backed against the wall, both
hands spread across his chest.
All that fuzzy warm happiness disappeared, replaced by a tiny shiver of panic
mixed with a side of relief. The relief tangled with a mix of “fucking finally”
and “what the fuck” that made Mick dizzy. Or maybe that’s just the beer.
“Scott. Maybe I should sleep somewhere else tonight.”
“Yeah. Like in my bed with me.”
“I was thinking like my car, or a
motel.”
Scott frowned and pushed him back
against the wall harder, caressing his chest and shoulders as he did. The
contrast of the unyielding wall against his shoulder blades and the man in
front of him spun Mick’s head around once. “You don’t feel anything like Mercy.
I knew you wouldn’t.”
“Don’t you think Mercy would—”
“She wouldn’t care. I’m not the only
one she fools around with.” Scott leaned against him, chest to chest, close
enough to kiss.
“Let me go.” Mick took hold of Scott’s
shoulders and tried to push him back, but Scott was stronger than he looked.
“No. I don’t want to.”
“What am I supposed to do now?” Mick
couldn’t see a clear path to the door. Panic reared up in the back of his
mind—he had no game plan for this, no idea what his part should be.
“You can let me blow you. Or you can blow me. I don’t care who goes first. You
want me, don’t you?”
Mick tried to speak but couldn’t. He
couldn’t get a decent breath either, not with Scott’s hands on him. He nodded
and tried to pull himself together.
“Haven’t you ever hooked up before?”
“Yeah.” Liar.
“Well, so have I. I’m not a little kid. You don’t have to—”
“I know you’re not.” Mick squeezed
Scott’s shoulders, anxious to learn how his skin felt over those hard muscles,
how those muscles looked when he moved. “I know.”
“So why—”
“I’ve hooked up before.”
“So why not with me?”
“Because it’s different with you. I
mean, it would be— I can’t…”
“You think I’m an idiot? Too dumb to
know what to—”
“No! No. That has nothing to do—” Mick
saw something in Scott’s eyes that made the rest of that sentence turn to dust
in his throat. He swallowed hard and was about to—no idea what he was about to
do, but he couldn’t stand there forever—when he saw something else that stopped
him. “You’re shaking.”
“Yeah.” Scott’s voice had a hard edge
so when he surged forward, his erection pressing against Mick’s thigh, it was
unexpected.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m trying to keep from punching you
in the face.”
“Why do you want to punch me in the
face?”
“Because you’re pushing me away. I
thought you liked me.”
“I do like you. But—”
“Don’t say it’s not right. I’m dumb but
I’m not—”
“I didn’t say you were dumb. You’re not
dumb.” Mick could barely speak past his desire, so his last few words came out
as breathless as he felt. He’d started panting and the sound filled the short
hallway. “Please don’t punch me in the face.”
Scott frowned, but fear and pain was
mixed up with the anger and desire showing in his light bottle-green eyes. Mick
felt it all right along with him.
“Maybe I should go.”
When Scott didn’t respond Mick slid
against the wall, sideways. In just a few steps, Mick wasn’t supporting all of
Scott’s weight anymore, didn’t feel his tense muscles or his heat. Mick
gingerly pushed off from the wall and walked backward, toward the living room.
“You don’t have to.”
“I think I do.” Mick sat on the sofa to
pull on his boots and Scott dropped onto the cushion beside him. Mick
straightened, one boot on and one off, and Scott grabbed him and kissed him.
Buy the book:
Meet the author:
Charley Descoteaux misspent a large chunk of her youth on
the back of a Harley, meeting people and having adventures that sometimes pop
up in her fiction. She grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area during a drought,
and found her true home in the soggy Pacific Northwest. Charley has survived
earthquakes, tornadoes and floods, but couldn’t make it through one day without
stories.
Where to find the author:
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Cover
Artist: Kanaxa
Tour Dates & Stops:
23-Feb
1-Mar
8-Mar
15-Mar
22-Mar
29-Mar
5-Apr
12-Apr
Rafflecopter
Prize: $20 Amazon gift card
a Rafflecopter giveaway
