Manlove Monday: Scared Stiff

Hiya. Christian Bale and I would like to address something im-por-tant-o.

I wasn't going to review this book yet. I didn’t feel I was ready to write another review of Josh Lanyon’s stuff because y’all will accuse me of rabid fangirlism. Or something. Which is, of course, maybe, partially true. But hey, sometimes these things happen. 2 words: Blame Teddypig. Then it became apparent that I HAD to review this. Right away. Right now. Because there is no way in hell I am going to read that last bit again. Ever.

MLR Press released Scared Stiff last October (2007). It’s no surprise that the book was Nominated for 2007 Love Romance Cafe Award. Not at all. Folks, this anthology is, until page 740, a wonderful little collection of scary ghost story romances. Laura Baumbach (word on the Eppie!), Josh Lanyon (I promise not to gush. Much), and Sarah Black deliver a nice read. William Maltese delivers something quite different.

Soul Desire by Laura Baumbach. A New England B&B ghost story! I can sooo relate to this one as my basement is haunted by a water spirit. You think I JEST? Stop on by anytime this spring with a wet vac. Anyway. This contribution tells the story of a young man named Mason who is coping with long term grief, trying to let go of the past, and almost ready to join the living.

In an effort to prevail over the sudden shocking death of his lover two years earlier, Mason journeys to Maine. For those of us who have gone through the grieving process, these things take a lot of time and energy and sometimes letting go is the hardest thing. Maine helps. As the only guest in the Inn, Mason's emotional fragility makes him an easy target for a freakishly sexual ghost. Immediate weirdness ensues. The book opens with our boy Mason being helped(unknowingly) to relieve his pent up love making needs by a steamy fogged presence in the shower. Most creepy.

The owner of the inn, Eli, is a man whose feet are firmly planted in the rough and rocky landscape. Eli is the perfect hero for our poor lost boy. I like that Mason, in his recovery, is still feisty when the going gets tough. He's scrappy and he's rather randy. And you can tell that Eli appreciates him. The ghost manifestations only happen around Mason for much of the book and as the spirit gets more and more aggressive and sexual with Mason, Mason leans on the growing friendship and attraction that he and Eli share. Actually, Mason totally freaks out, loses his crap and hightails it to Eli's room in the middle of the night flapping and flailing. I keep thinking HELP ME Captain America!!!. It begins cute and winds up sexy. Yup.

“I’ve got you.”

That was all it took. Three words and Mason’s last vestige of control snapped and the tears poured down his cheeks. They were mixed with gasps, sniffles, and broken sentences. “I mean…I haven’t kissed anyone in almost, shit!- almost twoyears. Nobody!” A surge of righteous anger pushed terror aside. “If any lips are going to be pressing on mine from now on, they sure as hell’t going to be cold d-dead ones!”

He stuttered and gasped, half the time burying his head under Eli’s chin wiping away his slowing tears on the man’s hot skin, and the other half staring wildly up into Eli’s silent watchful face. “ I mean, if someone’s lips are going to kiss me, I want them to be warm and firm and wet and…” —Mason swallowed hard, his gaze darting back and forth between Eli’s eyes to read his expression and his lips to stare at their full, wet goodness—“attached to a living, b-breathing Man.”

There is a nice turn here when Eli comforts an extremely upset Mason. It’s one of the things I’ve noticed that Laura does so well. She allows the big guy tenderness just when we need it.

The story surely had some limitations, but I rather liked it. There is a peculiar editing blip that, had it occurred any where else, would have probably caused less of a snort of laughter from me. But, man 0h man, right at the pivotal big sexorin moment, a wrong name appears. I’m going to leave it at that. Otherwise this gets a solid recommendation from me.

Ghost of a Chance First off, who the heck starts a romance off by quoting Spinal Tap??? heh. Josh Lanyon. And look, I give you Daniel Craig as Sam. Wow. Just, yeah, wow.

This is exactly the kind of story that I want in an anthology. Or anywhere. Smooth pacing. Great characters. Snappy dialog. Smart. Spooky. Sexy hot without foulness and wetness every friggin second. No mop required! He does, in my mind, a few simple things that go a long way: he introduces few characters; he keeps the time frame short; he uses a single POV; and the dialog just hums. Personally, I think it's unfair how easy he makes this whole writing thing look. Pfft.

So the gist of this lil nugget is as follows. One night, drunk and abandoned, Rhys sobs his heart out on the shoulder of much much much older man, Oliver, who has a thing for sweet attractive blonds. The old dude offers Rhys an opportunity to work on his ghost busting book while staying in his not too shabby place right next door to a actual factual haunted house. This wonderfully amusing professor, complete with glasses and the tweed coat, (although young, blond, slender, and gorgeous) heads out to the place and the story opens with Rhys breaking in because, naturally, his key doesn't work. Told entirely in the first person, it's often damned amusing.

When I couldn't get the key to work I jumped off the porch and walked around to the side of the house till I found an open window. Pulling out my pocket knife, I pried loose the screen; hoisted myself up and climbed through...

And that's when all hell broke loose.

Something rushed out of the darkness and tackled me around the waist, hurling me to the hardwood floor. The very hard wood floor. My tailbone, elbows, and skull all connected painfully.

My glasses went flying.

"Christ!" I yelped, trying to get away.

"Guess again," growled a deep voice.

Human.

Definitely human. And male. Definitely male. I was wrestling six feet or so of hard, lean male. Naked hard, lean male.

Man meets man. Neat and tidy. Sam Devlin, the unfriendly nephew and ruggedly hard cop (see photo), is of course, staying at the house while Oliver is away. He immediately gets the wrong idea about Rhys (who he calls Rice), sets some firm rules, and acts so gruffly that Rhys thinks of him as the "socially retarded nephew." Heavens to Mergatroid, I didn't even think he was gay! Well, I mean I KNEW he was gay, but I thought he'd be one of those closeted cop characters. Oh No no. There is a wonderful moment when Rhys turns to find Sam oogling his ass and he's alarmed, painfully self aware, and turned on. Good times.

These 2 men, over the course of a long weekend, develop, if not a friendship, a fiery attraction and a phenomenal tension. Rhys has tragedy from his past that somewhat colors his perception. He's stubborn and determined and tries to keep his smart mouth shut. Sam is terse and demanding and doesn't seem to know how to handle this live wire, Rhys. They both have jobs to do and neither one is telling the truth. They make mistakes. Lies are told. Feelings are hurt. Because Sam lays down the law, Rhys has to be sneaky. How friggin funny he is. How quick on his feet he has to be with Sam. And how desperately Sam needs to trust him. That final love scene defied my expectations in a wonderful way. It was simply lovely. And no (really) bad words. You Mormon.

Sam's kisses made me feel like I'd never been properly kissed before, like it was the first time--like the best of all the firsts: the first giddy swoop of alcohol in your bloodstream or the first sweet bite of dark chocolate on your tongue or the first time you saw a shooting star or felt a man's mouth close on your dick.

His hands gathered me close, hard and competent but cherishing too. I could feel every beat of our hearts echoing in my veins and nerves, beat and answering beat. I felt safe and complete in Sam's arms.

More than a nice romance, it's a scary ghost story. It's effing creepy, violent and desperate. My only negative comment is that mystery was a tad obvious, but that's cuz I'm a real Nancy Drew. I kept my mind to the ghost story, the play between Sam and Rhys and Rhys' thought processes.

Marg said to me months ago that she had never read an m/m romance and that she wouldn't even know where to start. I encourage her to start here. What can I say? He’s just the bees knees.( and that check can be made out to L-I-S-A-B-….) Big wonking thumbs up par usual. Heh. And, o hallelujah, there isn’t a character named Chance in it. I mean, it’s as if he didn’t get that that’s the done thing. I can’t decide if he’s being clever or he truly didn’t know.

Wild Onions by Sarah Black. OK. These characters are AWESOME. I'm not so hot about the title because it renders the book/movie Holes in my mommy mind and I expected to suddenly stumble across a jar of peaches, but whatever. The characters make this story.

Robert has returned to the cabin of his now dead lover. Set against a river in beautiful valley, the cabin offers Robert some solitude and reflection as he decides whether to sell the comforting yet haunting representation of a love now lost forever. What's unusual is that Robert is an older hero at 46. (Stop the presses! Older man alert!) Having survived an almost crippling motorcycle accident, he walks with a limp and suffers from chronic pain. While surely not old, he's feeling his age, his sorrow, and though trying to do so, he's still unable to move his life forward.

Down the river walks an Indian man. A not too shabby looking one. Cody is a strapping youngish 34year old. With hair half to his waist he happens to be two spirit, which I have recently learned means gay. I mean, how that hell would I know that? Who cares. Cody is having a difficult time in his life trying to enjoy his passion for non tribal archeology while turning his back on his heritage. That's the real two spirits. To me. Anyway. Man meets way younger man. I bet they're going to DO IT.

I liked these two together. Cody is so open to his feelings for Robert and you can see Robert bloom under Cody's attention and love. Robert is physically and spiritually battered and like the river eases Cody's spirit, so does Cody ease Robert. It's not smarmy at all. It's actually one of the most sublime pairing I've seen in a while. Really well done. Maybe it's my older man thing?

The plot: Well it's one that deals with battling good vs. evil and reincarnation. It's a bit long and lingery. There are a few dream sequences and the slithering of magic evil snakes, but I read along cuz Robert, once he and Cody get together, is so dedicated and passionate. And Cody, who is the nicest guy ever, has some bad mojo to overcome.

"Robert, you don't look so good. You look tired."

He was suddenly furious, nearly in tears. "Thank you, Cody, for pointing that out. I am, in fact, very tired. Tired and worried and in pain. And don't forget that I'm twelve years older than you. That's probably why I look so old. So let me ask you, if you've turned your back on traditional Blackfoot culture, why do you wear your hair halfway to your butt?"

"It makes it easy to get laid. "

Cody and Robert have conclusions to make about who they are and what they are willing to do to be together. I found myself awake very, very late reading this story. I could not come to a place where I was willing to stop. I loved these guys and I'm really looking forward to reading more of Sarah's work. Definitely recommend this one.

A Rendering of Souls by William Maltese. I'm almost too tired to write this last one. And this post is so freaking long that I betcha anything y'all are skipping to this part just to see what the heck I'm going to say about this last entry. The entry into HELL. I tried to find a passage I could put up that didn't have a BILLION four letter words in it and blechy stuff like man cream, (Oh for crying out loud. If my husband said that to me I'd hand him some lotion. What? You need some cream?) but, man, I can't.

So all you really, really nice ladies who are offended by icky stuff, I'm telling you plain: don't bitch at me if you read this. It's your own damned fault. I will purposely delete comments that are pissy because, dude, if you don't like it CLICK. Pffft.

Ok. A Rendering of Souls is a multi layered story that follows 2 races in a bitter struggle for dominance. Told through a progression of varying viewpoints and moving in a violent forward action (fuck. That art history class is really paying off.) this is the tale of a magical candle and the fools who either receive one or, after a life time of idiocy, make one. Phewie it sucked horse apples.

There's so much sex in this book I'm surprised that I noticed the story! From page one where this man is masterfully contorting his flesh for the amusement of his king to the tree sex to the machine that gives oral to, well...you get the idea, right? I mean. I do so like those m/m novels. I do. But blech creep me fucking out man.

Beeswax, of course, was one secret to a good tree-fuck (the other is forgetting to take your LITHIUM). Glynen's initial efforts at arboreal screwing left his poor dick scratched, bruised and, once, even bleeding. Beeswax, kneaded to workable consistency and liberally scooped into any hole and then, molded into correct shape by cock-insertion (kill me) for only as long as it took the wax to begin resetting, later provided a sensuously slick corridor sure to coax any dick to grand-mal eruption of steamy cream. (Did you throw up a little? I did.)

That's more than enough of that. And let me tell you, that's not the half of it.

I'd like to point out a couple of things.

Number one: the names in this book are too confusing. It's NOT that I am stupid because I've been reading for about 37 years now and unless it's Gaelic, I don't often run into this problem So, word to the wise. Usually only an attorney on her second marriage gets one: No hyphens.

Number two: Less IS more.

Number three: How is it possible that every. single. man. in this story believes that he is exceptionally endowed? I mean, what is up with that? They have to say how big it is, they have to be told how big it is. It's not going to fit anywhere? What the hell good is that? Who wants a wiener that can't fit into the places it wants to go? That's just sad, man. See number two.

Number four: too many tools make for bad sex scenes. Stick with the basics. The occasional cock ring or machine that performs oral is (not) ok, but too much of a....thing is too much of a thing. See number two.

Finally: It's important in porn or in romance or in any one of the multiple variants that occur within the rainbow of writing teh loves that someone is alive at the end of the story. Someone other than a clairvoyant freak child.

The upshot? All these folks die. The candle is rendered after a life time of practicing majikal what not, and boiling some poor (massively endowed) slob down in a vat heated by the earth's molten core (which is purple for a woo-ha...my molten CORE), and when that dude's spirit is, er, encased in the wee candle of DOOM, heh, oddly things go wrong. The candle doesn't get lit and he's trapped for fucking ever in the candle of DOOM. Milenia pass (or something) and now the candle is part of a musuem exhibit. In walks Haley Joel Osment a little girl who stage whispers with great dram-a "I can hear him scream."

Screaming, "Don't read this!" I am so sure.

I still love this anthology. I'm very glad I saw it that night I was looking for something to read and, for the m/m romance I say, you can't lose. And this post is way too long.

I have no clue what else is going on in blog landia. Sula is knee deep in her MBA...so maybe, maybe not. Go see her anyway. She's a pip.