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Time Waits Blog Party – Post 1
I'm C.B. Lewis and I'm delighted to be introducing you to my debut novel, Time Waits, which is released today with Dreamspinner Press. Please admire the lovely cover made for me by the fabulous Catt Ford.
First and foremost, it's a sci-fi romance, with time-travel at its centre. Set in the future, it also delves into the past, and deals with the consequences of playing with time. To give you a taster of what you can look forward to in it, here's a small excerpt:
The heavy rain had lightened, which was a small mercy.
The moonlight was thin and sickly, barely breaking through the clouds. The trees shone a dull gray in the darkness. There was hardly a sound except for the rustle of leaves in the wind and the cries of some small creatures out in the darkness.
A soldier broke cover from beneath the undergrowth. He stumbled and slithered down a muddy slope toward the track. Grass and dirt tore beneath his boots, and he caught himself against the trunk of a tree to keep from falling, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
In the distance, he was sure he could hear the howl of the dogs, the hunting party. He gulped down a breath before running onward.
He was armed, it was true, but what was one shot against a legion of men? He could turn it on himself, but he had escaped death once. He had no wish to face it again.
The track was rough, little used, but it was easier than breaching the undergrowth again. He had to get as far ahead as he could. They wouldn't continue the hunt much longer, not with the chill of the night setting in, but they might follow just long enough.
So he ran.
His legs shook with each step, but terror drove him onward. If he stopped, even to catch his breath, he didn't think he would be able to start again. If he stopped, he would die. If he rested, he would die. If he did anything but run, he would die.
Something howled in the night, and his heart slammed against his ribs.
It might have been a dog, but it could have been a wolf.
The wind was picking up, whirling around him, icy rain lashing his face, and he could feel tears on his cheeks. Running and weeping. No honor. No dignity. All he knew was that he wanted to live.
The track he was on was broadening, and that meant it was coming closer to civilization, to people.
He hesitated only a moment before plunging off the path and back into the forest, branches whipping at his face and limbs. He caught his foot on a root and fell, rolling heavily down the slope. He crashed into a stream at the foot, breaking through a film of ice. The water was so cold it cut to the bone, and he couldn't even draw breath to cry out.
Blindly, he tried to find purchase on the bank. He fell forward heavily onto the ground, a thin cry of pain escaping him as he crushed his left arm beneath him. Warmth spread from the limb. The wound was open again.
"Angele Dei," he whispered desperately, "qui custos es mei, me tibi…."
Intrigued? Curious? Just plain baffled? Do feel free to pick up a copy and take a look! Also, I'll be around for part of today, so feel free to drop me a line in the comments to say hi
Length: Novel (330 pages)
Genre: Sci-fi, historical, futuristic
Buy as eBook ($6.99 ISBN: 978-1-63216-852-8) / Buy as Paperback ($17.99 ISBN: 978-1-63216-852-8)
The Best Man by Rick R. Reed
I stare at the groom and hope it doesn't show—the love I feel for him, the love I've always felt. I'm praying I can keep the ardor off my face, even though I know I've failed miserably to keep it out of my heart.
The best man obviously lusting for the groom would be, well, just wrong. Especially not when the groom has eyes only for his gorgeous bride, the blond and lovely Alana, in her Vera Wang wedding dress. Now, their eyes are locked on one another and I feel the old paradox I experience every time I look at them—a curious brew of jealousy and happiness at their having found the other.
Love is a rare thing in this world.
Yeah, you heard me right—I'm the best man. That groom up there at the altar? The gorgeous guy in the tux with the close-trimmed red beard, the green eyes, and the linebacker shoulders? That's my best friend, Kevin. We've been together since we were in second grade. I'd lay down my life for the guy. And the sad truth is, I'd lay down for the guy. Period. With my legs thrown in the air. He knows this, yet he continues to call me his best friend, except he says, 'best bud.' He even proclaims he couldn't live without me.
But shame on me for having such thoughts on Kevin's wedding day! If the poor guy knew the wicked, lustful thoughts coursing through my brain as I stand here, smiling, but jealous as hell, with the other groomsmen, Kevin would be blushing as crimson as the rose in his lapel.
But God, he does look gorgeous! Edible. And I can't help but think—unkindly, I know; inappropriately, I know—the thought gay guys have had about buff and beautiful straight men for millennia—what a waste!
I'm sure his bride, Alana, would beg to differ.
The music, Pachelbel's Canon, has just ended and the crowd at St. Aloysius Catholic Church has grown quiet. There are only a couple of coughs here, a whisper there.
We're ready to begin. Kevin turns to Alana. I can see he's trembling and my heart gives a little lurch. A lump forms in my throat.
Alana beams beneath her lace veil, all smiles. I try not to think unkind thoughts about her. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion. And so is Alana, in anything backless. Stop it!
I let my mind drift back to a few months ago. A winter's night when Kevin and I had traveled up from Seattle to the San Juan Islands. We had taken the ferry over on Friday afternoon to Orcas Island where we rented a small cabin at Doe Bay resort. The cabin was no frills and cold. It had rained all weekend. Even our trip to Mt. Constitution was doomed—the stunning vistas from its top blocked out by drizzling banks of low-hanging clouds.
So we had little to do but hang out in the cabin. There was no TV or Wi-Fi, so cards or reading were pretty much the order of the day.
And drinking.
A lot of drinking. See, Kevin had asked me to come away with him that weekend because he had acquired a severe case of cold feet regarding his wedding to Alana that summer. "She's great," he'd told me. "But suddenly I'm just not sure I'm ready. Maybe it's like they say, you know?"
"No. I don't know." An evil little part of me just wanted Miss Alana to go away so I could have my Kevin back. I'd missed things like our early morning runs together on the Burke-Gilman trail, with the sun coming up and the world seeming to contain only the two of us. I missed Friday nights with Kevin at his condo in Wallingford, ordering in a meat-lover's pizza from Pagliacci to go with a nice IPA I'd bought on my way over to his place, streaming old horror movies on his big-screen. We both loved Carnival of Souls.
"Like, maybe I love Alana, but I'm not in love with her. You know what I mean?"
I'd wanted to say that I knew exactly what he meant. For example, I loved Kevin and to my heart's great regret, I was also in love with him. So yeah, I got the distinction.
I thought our weekend together, somehow, might change things between us. Magically. Maybe it was because I was reading a lot of books lately that featured some butch "straight" protagonist falling suddenly for his buddy and realizing that, while maybe he wasn't strictly gay, he could be gay for this man he'd fallen for. Like that ever happens…
And yet…those stories always had a happy ending. Why couldn't ours?
Hey, if I read it in a book, it must be possible, right?
And I thought, on our Saturday night here on Orcas, drunk on beer and a good single-malt Scotch, that maybe, just maybe, the same could happen for Kevin and me. Magically. I mean, we'd been practically inseparable since we were kids. We'd played softball together, spent countless nights together, went through the trials and tribulations of high school as one, cheered each other on at our respective events at track meets and cried on one another's shoulders as we each met yet another disappointment in love. As we grew, we grew closer.
And then Alana came along.
And spoiled everything.
Oh, Alana's a wonderful woman—kind, sweet, funny. She can curse like a sailor, drink a man under the table, and arrange a bouquet of spring wildflowers like Martha Stewart. And, if you're straight, she's a knockout. Hell, if you're gay, she's a knockout. She's the kind of woman who turns both straight and gay men's heads when she walks down the street, although the latter, I cheekily admit, might only be wondering if her bag is Prada or Ferragamo.
But that night, as the rain drummed down on the roof of our little cabin, it felt like Kevin and I were the only two people in the world. I remember how, after we finished with the cards, and me beating his ass three straight times at canasta, we relaxed together on the bed in Kevin's room.
Now, don't go thinking this was odd. As I said, Kevin and I had had countless sleepovers, starting at the age of seven. Although we didn't often share a bed, we had fallen asleep next to one another on the couches at one of our houses. I never told Kevin how sometimes, during those nights, I would snuggle close and then, if he woke, pretend to be outraged by what I'd done in my sleep.
So it was not unusual we both were on his bed, our backs against the wall the bed was shoved up against, legs stretched out before us, dangling. We both had that one-too-many tumbler of Scotch in our hands, but we weren't thinking about the headache and nausea surely waiting for us in the morning, but only how loose and warm it made us feel tonight.
Kevin babbled on and on, finally getting to the topic of our trip up here—his upcoming nuptials to Alana. He told me how he didn't know if he was ready to give up his independence. He said that she could sometimes be controlling.
I told him these were all good points, worth considering.
He even told me how she wasn't always so keen about going down on him and I just about lost it. I mean, really? Talk about casting pearls before swine! Was the girl crazy or what?
It just seemed natural to me then, with the lights low, the Scotch making our systems hum in a languid way, and with the rain's staccato beat on the roof, to turn to Kevin and look into his eyes. I knew they were green, but in the dim illumination, they looked brown. And like wells I could fall into….
I thought something passed between us. A signal, maybe, an understanding.
And I did something I'd never done before. But, damn it, it felt right.
Yeah, you know what I did. I leaned forward and I kissed him. It wasn't a playful little peck either, but a full-on kiss, with my tongue darting impetuously into his mouth. He was so surprised—and drunk—that, for a second, a delicious, life-altering, wished-it-would-go-on-forever second, he kissed me back. His hand even went up to the back of my neck for a moment.
And, in that tiny, tiny amount of time, I imagined that things could change, that this would be a scene like in one of those books I'd read where the straight guy magically turns gay—just for me.
For all time. Kev and I would have our happily-ever-after. It all flashed by, like they say one's life flashes by in our final moments—our going back to Seattle and announcing to Alana that we were in love and always had been. The marriage with her could not take place because he was marrying me. The condo we would purchase together on Capitol Hill, overlooking the Space Needle and the Olympic Mountain range. All that stuff. And, of course, the more immediate—both of us hurrying to get out of our clothes, tossing them to the floor in our passion, in our yearning heat to feel the electric satin of a full body press of naked skin.
Kevin pushed gently against my chest and leaned back to break the kiss. He stared at me for a moment and I misinterpreted the stare as lust. I went in for another kiss and he pushed harder against my chest, holding me back.
He smiled and I'm happy to report there was nothing mocking or disdainful in it. "Dude," he whispered. "You know better."
And just like that, my dreams shattered, dropping on the floor in tinkling shards of regret.
I moved away from him, putting a few feet between us. I hung my head. "I'm so embarrassed. And ashamed," I managed to get out.
He moved close to me and he laid a hand on my shoulder. "Look at me," he said.
"I love you, man. I always have. As much I love anyone. You're more than my best friend, you're family. You know that, right?"
I nodded, feeling tears well up in my eyes.
He touched them away with his thumbs. "Now, I don't want you to feel weird about what just happened. We were both a little drunk and we can always say it was the Scotch talkin', but I want you to know I'm flattered. Hey, the fact that anyone finds a big lug like me, who farts constantly, attractive is a bonus in my book."
We both laughed. Me, reluctantly at first, and then the giggles took over. I fell onto Kevin and soon, we were both short of breath, holding each other. He kissed the top of my head. "You're my man. Always."
The next day we said nothing about what had happened.
And now, well, you know the rest of the story. He's up there, saying his vows to Alana.
And I'm happy for him.
Really I am.
But I can't look at them. Not right now. It hurts too much. I turn away and let my gaze light on the crowd.
And that's when I see him. And I'm not imagining it—he's looking right at me. And when out gazes connect, he smiles.
I smile back and then glance down at the floor, a little embarrassed.
The priest is presenting the new married couple to the crowd. I join in the cheers and the applause.
And I turn to follow Kevin and Alana, the new husband and wife, in their processional out of the church.
He looks at me again as I pass his pew. He's tall, with dark brown hair, almost black, and eyes so dark the pupils get lost in the irises. He has full lips that shift my mind into naughty mode. His five o'clock shadow gives me a visual cue to how it would feel against my face. His suit, dark blue, hangs perfectly on his lanky, yet broad-shouldered frame.
Our eyes connect in that way only two gay men can have (or two lesbians or a man and a woman who are hot for the other). The milliseconds pass and they cement us together. It's just a bit longer than two strangers would glance at one another. It acknowledges interest, attraction—potential.
Outside the church, the drizzle that had come down earlier has been pushed away by a brilliant sun. Everything sparkles. There's laughter, the chatter of a hundred happy voices, raised in celebration and excitement.
Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn and it's Alana. She's beaming at me and her blue eyes project love. She hugs me and I feel just horrible for the thoughts I had about her new husband during their wedding. But hey, they were honest. At least I can say that.
She kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, "I'm so glad you're here. You really are Kevin's best man."
I have no words. I just pull her close to me.
At last, we pull away. There are too many others waiting to kiss this blushing bride. I step back, thinking to move away, when her hand on my arm stops me. "Hold on, there's someone I want you to meet."
She steps aside and it's him. We grin at each other as though we share a secret.
"This is Ryan, my very best friend from college. He's out here from Boston, but he's thinking of moving to Seattle in the fall. He's interviewing with Amazon." She pulls me close and whispers in my ear once more, "And he's dying to meet you."
I reach my hand out and we touch. And it's electric. There's something about a wedding—all that concentrated hope and happiness. It makes me gleeful for the future.
"Ryan. I'm so happy to meet you."
He winks. "Likewise."
Rick R. Reed is all about exploring the romantic entanglements of gay men in contemporary, realistic settings. While his stories often contain elements of suspense, mystery and the paranormal, his focus ultimately returns to the power of love. He is the author of dozens of published novels, novellas, and short stories. He is a three-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Caregiver, Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). He is also a Rainbow Award Winner for both Caregiver and Raining Men. Lambda Literary Review has called him, "a writer that doesn't disappoint." Rick lives in Seattle with his husband and a very spoiled Boston terrier. He is forever "at work on another novel."
Rick's latest novel is Dinner at Fiorello's.
The stress of moving…. MOMENT OF CLARITY release party (post 3)
The Moments In Time series features a couple in their early 20s and in the course of the three books one of the things they had to do several times was move—from their dorm to their summer residence on Fire Island, from Fire Island to one of the character's brother's house because their dorm room wasn't ready, from the brother's house to the dorm, from the dorm to an apartment. It's been many years since my college days and until I wrote this book I'd forgotten how many times I moved house in my late teens and early 20s.
Moving is stressful. Putting your whole life in boxes. Remembering what you packed where. Physically packing, moving and unpacking. Waking up those first few nights exhausted and not entirely sure where you are. I don't miss that! I've lived in my current house in New Hampshire for over a decade and that's the longest I've ever lived anywhere. I don't miss moving at all!
Now the closest I get to having to pack up a zillion belongings is conference time. Right now I'm packing to attend the RT Convention in Dallas next week. (If any of you are going, please find me and say hello—I love meeting readers in person!)
In addition to the stress that moving puts on Collin and Tanner, several of the places they live in the beginning of MOMENT OF CLARITY are not places where they have any privacy. Collin's brother has three young children, the friend they crash with has a roommate who's up till all hours partying—they are both longing for time alone together.
Here's an excerpt from the time that they're living with Collin's brother…
Between classes, my work at Gino's, Tanner's shifts at the bookstore, and commuting back and forth to Sean's house, Tanner and I were busier than we'd ever been. I always knew it was more convenient to live on campus, but I had no idea what a hassle it was to make the added drive daily. By the time we got to Sean's, had dinner, spent time with the girls, and did some studying, we were exhausted.
I hadn't touched Tanner for yet another week, and I didn't think I'd last the day without changing that. Tanner must have felt the same. I'd seen the looks he'd been throwing me, particularly the night before while we were watching a movie together, but I wasn't about to do anything with Sean and the kids in the house. I didn't care that the doors locked. It didn't feel right. And I didn't trust either of us to be quiet enough. Especially since it had been so long.
Sean handed me the last dirty dish to load into the dishwasher while Tanner put the juice and milk in the fridge.
"I'm gonna run to the grocery store while the kids are at preschool. Any requests?" Sean asked, grabbing his wallet off the counter and shoving it in his pocket.
"If you get a can of crushed tomatoes and some spaghetti, I'll cook."
"Thanks. The kids loved that the other night. Anything else?"
I tried to think but couldn't. All that registered in my brain was that Sean was going out. Tanner and I would be alone in the house. My entire body was totally onboard with this thought.
"I think that'll do it. Tanner, you need anything?"
Tanner looked up from wiping off the kitchen tables. His pupils were huge. I knew that look. I loved that look. He was thinking the same thing I was. I twitched with anticipation.
"I'm good," Tanner said, tossing the rag on the counter.
"Okay, then." Sean headed for the door. "It's my turn to drive carpool home, so I'll probably take the kids to Mickey D's for happy meals. Lock up if you both leave, okay?"
"Sure." My heart raced as I watched Sean trot down the back porch steps. I held my breath, listening as the car door slammed, the engine revved, and the tires crunched down the gravel driveway.
I turned to look at Tanner, but before I could even focus my eyes, he was on me. Hands on either side of my face, body pressed up against mine, lips prying mine open, tongue—oh, God, I'd missed that tongue—swirling in circles with mine.
Groaning, I grabbed him and tugged him closer. I needed to feel as much of him as possible. All of him. Immediately, if not sooner.
For another chance to win an ebook from me, tell me how many times you've moved in your life or the longest you've lived in any one place. I'll announce winners in the comment section of each post at midnight tonight (EDT).
A Midsummer Dream – Excerpt
Here's a little snippet for you!
"Don't you give a shit about anyone but yourself?" Donovan asked. "Or is it all about Arik?"
"You've hit the nail on the head." Arik's voice had a chill to it as he turned, his long braid smacking Donovan in the chest with how close they were to each other. "It's all about me. I don't care about anyone else. If their performance is suffering, that's not my responsibility. It's theirs."
"Why are you always such an ass?"
"I like it. Now if you don't mind, I have work to do, and you're preventing me from doing it. If you're going to buy something, then do so. Otherwise, there's no loitering allowed."
"How someone as cold as you manages to play your roles with such heat is beyond me," Donovan said quietly. "You have no heart."
"That would be why they call it acting," Arik said as he turned away and put a book on the shelf.
When Opposites Attract… with Nancy M. Griffis
Hello Hello! I'm Nancy M. Griffis and my novel, A Most Unusual Wedding, is out today! I'm very excited to be here talking about my latest release with all of you!
Wedding stems from a short story that was published in a charity anthology a few years ago. It centers around Lord Leo Harris and Master Leathersmith Gerald Smithson and their (if I may say so) adorable love story in an alternate Victorian London where magic, aka power, runs rife through the population. Most things in the book echo the real London of the time but to two major things: the power and same-sex pairings being nothing unusual. If you've read A Most Unusual Courtship (the prequel, available FREE at Dreamspinner), then you know why, but if not, back in Greek times, same-sex unions were blessed by the Gods and the world simply never went back on that.
Leo, god love him, is as fine a dandy as you'd ever want to know, and shows it in his extremely colorful wardrobe and rakish sense of humor. But he also has that steel of spine that comes from having gotten everything he'd ever needed. He's a lord, he's heir to the family fortune and political power, a middle child of three, and has great powers within himself. He could have turned out an absolute horror, but for a good heart, a lovely family, and incredibly inquisitive mind.
Gerald, on the other hand, is a quiet, sweet man who is as steadfast as the day is long in summer. He's an only child raised by his grandfather, Daniel, after his parents were killed in a terrorist bombing when he was ten. He's been significantly hurt by mages in his past and so distrusts them all and refuses to do business with any. The lone exception to this is his best mate, Harry Bickley, who's away most of the time at sea in Her Majesty's Navy.
I have a wee excerpt below from Courtship that shows the moment Leo and Gerald meet that I think you'll enjoy.
A friend asked me how in the hell I came up with the idea for Wedding which cracked me up. It wasn't that I so much came up with it that Leo started yammering in my ear about getting married. Incessantly. Right while I was in the middle of another project. And because he's such a brat, he got what he wanted when I put down the other novel and started outlining Wedding. Why yes, all writers are crazy to a certain extent, if you didn't already know that. ;o) Of course, it couldn't just be about getting married - that would be far too sweet for one of my books – so I did come up with the plague to slow things down a bit and then, well, someone besides Leo was utterly taken with Gerald (he really is the sweetest man) and things kind of went downhill from there for the poor boys.
So here are a couple of questions for you readers out there…
What's your favorite time period for a magic-based novel? Or for any novel, really. This is my first historical novel and the research was both intimidating and fascinating. I believe I've come down with the itch to do more novels in other time periods (not related to Leo & Gerald) but I'm curious if there's a common zeitgeist time period.
When you read books with magic in them, do you prefer fully spoken spells, spells in other/made up languages, or does it not matter? I posted this question to my flist while writing and am wondering if the world at large echoes their responses.
Alrighty! I'm going to head out now that I've taken up your precious time. I truly hope you enjoy Courtship and Wedding, because I just adore my guys and want everyone to love them. Oh! And in case you're wondering, I'm hard at work on the sequel, A Most Unusual Honeymoon, (A murder mystery for the guys! wheeee!) and hoping to finish soon so as not to keep you all waiting too long.
Thanks for stopping by! This is Nancy, signing off.
LEATHER ALWAYS felt and smelled like home. From the time Gerald was a small boy leaning against his father's knee, he'd been surrounded by the crafting of it. Instead of learning his letters, he'd learned good cuts from bad. Instead of playing with boys outside in the busy London streets, he'd stayed inside and watched every cut his father had chiseled or sliced into. His education had eventually included basic reading and maths, but originally consisted of tanning and cutting and creating works of art from all forms of leather.
All his childhood memories encompassed leather in some form, but the most bittersweet had been witnessing his parents don butter-soft leather cuffs on their tenth anniversary. Gerald had peeked through the stairway rails as firelight cast a golden warmth over the room and his parents kissed gently, the cuffs shining and soft on each right wrist.
His childhood had come to a horrible end two days later when his parents had been caught in the blast of a terror attack on Her Majesty's Theatre.
"Gerald! You done yet, lad?"
Gerald snapped out of the sad thoughts that were just as heartbreaking sixteen years later. He set down the anniversary cuffs he'd been working on and looked up. His grandfather was still strong enough at eighty-three to bellow from the third story of their London home, as annoying as the habit was. "Almost, Granddad! Be up in a few minutes!"
The shop door opened, jingling the bell above it, and in walked a dandy if ever Gerald had seen one. He had the strong features and perfectly straight teeth that were hallmarks of the gentry. He was handsome, no doubt, with lively blue-gray eyes. The fine cotton trousers, satiny shirt, perfectly creased morning coat, and elegant leather boots certainly completed the portrait of a gentleman. The cluster of red and black plumage on the man's hat made Gerald want to roll his eyes at the puffery.
Before the man could do more than doff his hat to reveal honey-colored hair and smile in greeting, Gerald said flatly, "I serve no mages in this shop, my lord."
The man paused, head canting aside as he asked, "How do you know I'm a mage?"
"The door was locked."
"I see. Well, you don't even know what I'm going to ask of you."
"I need not know, my lord, to know that I do not serve your kind."
"My kind?"
"Arrogant mages with no sense of obligation to pay for what they order."
"I see." A smile hovered again over the man's mouth, and then he said, "So if I were to pay you ahead for the work, would that change your mind?"
"It would not."
"Not even a little?"
The teasing tone prompted Gerald to frown. "My lord, there are many excellent leathersmiths in London."
The lord walked closer and spun his hat between his palms. "Ah, but you are the best; everyone says so. I need the best."
Gerald stood to his considerable height. As expected—like most men—the lord came to Gerald's shoulders. Those blue eyes widened in surprise as the man craned his neck to look up and meet his gaze. Gerald said firmly, "I serve whom I wish, and those of power do not number among them. Good day, my lord."
The man's mouth twisted into a moue of disappointment, and he heaved an overly dramatic sigh. "Well. If you're going to be petty about it and tar everyone with the same brush, then I've no choice but to go elsewhere. At least for now."
Gerald didn't reply, instead choosing to sit back down and wait for the man to leave. The man again twirled the hat between his palms and then set it atop his head before leaving. Mayhap it was painting all mages alike, but he'd dealt enough with them in the past to maintain his present loathing.
Untrustworthy sods, all of them.
As soon as the mage closed the door behind him, Gerald stood and walked over to lock the door again, then tugged on it to be certain. He returned to his work counter, packed away the anniversary cuffs, and swiftly tidied up the small shop before jogging upstairs to his grandfather's apartment on the third floor. He reached the door just as it opened, and he intercepted his grandfather before he could descend a single step. If Daniel walked down three flights of stairs, Gerald might end up carting him back up, depending on Daniel's mood.
Green eyes twinkled up at him and his grandfather said, "It's about time you came up, you great lout! Where's me tea?"
Gerald chuckled, then said, "Where it always is, Granddad, waiting to be made in your kitchen. Settle yourself down on the sofa, and I'll get it started for you."
Daniel Smithson hadn't reached his great age without knowing how to take advantage of any kind of situation. That didn't preclude him from being an excellent grandfather; it just made Gerald's life a bit livelier. As the old man had taken him in at the tender age of ten without a single complaint, though, Gerald was more than happy to put up with his machinations.
"Saw a pretty thing leaving the shop just now."
Except for his matchmaking ones, Gerald thought with a sigh. "He's a lord and a mage, Granddad. I sent him packing."
Daniel settled down onto the comfortable sofa with a groan and wagged a finger at him. "You're too fussy by half, my lad. If a lord like that were t'pay me that sort of attention in my day, I'd have lapped at his silver spoon. I'm not getting any younger, Gerald. You'll need lookin' after, once I'm gone, no matter your independent ways. It's not right, livin' alone all yer life."
Gerald set the kettle on to boil, slid the half-eaten meat pie into the oven, and turned the dial to warming. So convenient, these new ovens. A small bit of magic spelled to the item itself—no mages necessary—and baking was no longer a hazardous thing where Gerald could accidentally set the kitchen afire. "I need no looking after, Granddad. And besides which, you'll outlive us all."
Daniel cackled a bit. "There is that, my lad, there is that."
Nancy M. Griffis: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/AuthorArcade/nancy-m-griffis
Buy A Most Unusual Wedding here!
Threefold Love-Exceprt 1
I thought everyone might be interested in an excerpt!
Xavier Hobbs
"Didn't mean to startle you." Andrew smirks and takes a sip from whatever he's ordered. "I've never seen you here before." His glasses catch the overhead lighting, hiding his eyes, so they just look an ordinary brown again with stars dazzling at me. I know better, though. I have trouble making my brain work for a few seconds while he looks at me intently. Jesus H. Christ, I want to crawl across the table and devour him, inch by inch. It's been too damned long for me and he's perfection.
"I had the urge to bounce off the walls for a few hours." My mouth works again and I pick up my mug to take a sip. It is cold now, but I don't mind. I've drunk worse.
"Might hurt. The brick in here is rough," he deadpans, eyeing the walls.
"Mmm… brick burn might be hard to take care of. Much worse than rug burn," I agree. He makes a face.
"Yeah, rug burn is definitely bad enough. The last time I had it on my back, I couldn't reach it by myself to put a bandage on it, and I sweat when I go running and then it would sting and burn, and I'm just going to pretend I didn't say that to you," he finishes into his coffee cup. While I watch the blush rise and fade on his face, my brain is 100 percent happy to supply several ways my fair friend could have gotten rug burn on his back. Silence seems like it would be the better part of valor here, so I dutifully ignore his embarrassment and use a napkin to hold my place in my book.
"So, how often do you find yourself here?"
"Only every day, except Sundays. I need the caffeine." His lips twitch upward into a smile for a moment before they touch his mug again. As far as lips go, they are nice to look at. They're a natural pink, not exactly full, but plenty enticing as he licks a bit of whipped cream off them.
"Why… why not on Sundays?" I ask, clearing my throat, looking down at my own mostly empty mug.
"For some reason I'm always busy on Sundays. I have trouble telling people no, so I end up doing stuff with my… religious group or helping someone move or raising money for something or other…. It never ends." He chuffs out a small laugh. "During the school year between that and grading, I feel like I don't have much of a life." He shrugs.
"You and I seem to have opposite problems." I lean back, getting as comfortable as I can on the metal chair.
"I'm so new to town that I don't have any commitments whatsoever. My days are wide open, more or less, after work, and especially the weekends." I can feel my friendly smile trying to slip into something cynical, but I try to keep it where it is.
"In that case, there's a dart tournament at One-Eyed Pete's tomorrow night. I was going to go. Want to come?" He sits there looking interested and excited and sincere and I flounder. "Date!" my brain screams, but I try to ignore it. This is most likely just friendly. The chances of him being interested in me the way I am interested in him are slim to none, but I'll never find out if I don't spend time with him, and I won't know if I don't try. He has been flirting with me, sort of, and if nothing else, I will have a new friend or two from the adventure. He takes another drink from his mug and licks his lips again. My erection swells in my jeans as lust slams me in the stomach.
God, I'd love to take him home and strip him down and….
"Sounds like a plan." I nod at him and he beams back, happy as I've ever seen anyone.
I hope you enjoyed your first peek into the book!
Anyone ever have that awkward "is this or isn't this a date" moment?
E-book: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=6278
Paperback: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=6279
Series plan and another excerpt!
Find "The Serpent and the Angel" here! http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=6201
Remember, while this might be Book 8 of my series, it is also book 2 of my Part 2 of the series. I have 5 parts planned and while the entire series should be seen as a cohesive whole, to make my life easier, I split the books into parts to make sure I stayed on track and told the story that needed to be told.
It's certainly a struggle to balance the romance with furthering the overall plot, but I welcome the challenge. I feel that with every book I grow stronger in my writing skills (and research skills), and I really enjoying seeing my series unfold and reveal itself. Every single book offers me at least one surprising moment.
That is the struggle with these later books since the dominoes need to start falling as the series unfolds. Part one (Psychic Moon through Master's Blood) was more of the introduction to my universe, and the characters and the groups I will be dealing with for the rest of the series. Now the rest of the parts will be focused on the various romances (of course) but also the workings of the villain Arcas and his allies. But the core of the series is still love and how each couple tries to save the day and prevent Arcas from reaching his goals.
Another excerpt!
The snake slowly slid out of the small hole it had been coiled in. Flicking its tongue, sensing no danger, it slithered and scraped over rocks and boulders, easily finding a path out of the rubble. It was hungry, but it didn't smell any prey, which caused it to focus on finding an exit out of the tunnel. For some reason it didn't want to hide and wait for prey, it wanted to find open air. Always going with instinct, the snake never questioned or doubted its senses. The long serpent easily made its way down the open tunnel, seeming to glide over the uneven ground and disjointed tracks. It wound around the mine carts, past the fallen pickaxes, constantly flicking its tongue.
It began to feel cool air over its scales and hesitated. Slithering to the side of the tunnel, the snake eyed the opening, flicking its tongue, again sensing no danger. It moved slower now, wary of the open air, the lack of protection. But something inside it urged it out, into the open; something seemed to push it forward. Keeping close to the side of the tunnel, it peeked out of the opening, into the dark. The moon was high, the stars shining, but the snake paid it no mind. All it saw was the wide expanse of land, and all it thought about was food and shelter.
But even as it was about to move across the darkened land, it sensed movement just outside the tunnel. Coiling into itself, the snake lifted its tail and lowered its face. Sound followed the movement, and the cause of that sound formed a shadow across the land. The snake flicked its tongue out, tasting the air, oddly familiar with the scent upon it. It wasn't prey. It wasn't predator. What was it?
A creature walked into sight. Again, there was an odd sense of familiarity. The known scent grew stronger as the creature seemed to notice the snake. The snake coiled tighter, muscles trembling. Its rattle shook louder.
"Never seen a rattlesnake as big as you before," the creature said.
The snake didn't understand. But Tobias did. It felt as though he surged upward, as if he was rising out of water toward the surface, straining for air. He saw through his snake's eyes, smelled Angel's scent. The snake fought, of course it fought, but Tobias knew he'd win. The snake wasn't stronger than he was. It had never been stronger.
The snake shuddered as if in pain, and the rattle stopped moving.
Angel knelt in front of the snake, at a safe distance from a potential strike. Tobias stared into Angel's face, using it as an anchor. He knew that face. He liked that face. When he'd changed, he'd been too scared, nearly panicked with the thought of death, that he hadn't fully prepared himself mentally for the change. This caused his snake to take over fully, for him to lose who he was, his memories, his purpose, his personality. But now he fought, and he knew he would win. But he couldn't allow Angel to see him change back. He couldn't even allow himself to consider the outcome of that travesty.
Tobias took full control of his snake and struck out at Angel, never intending to bite, but trying to scare Angel away. Angel jerked back in shock with a yelp. Then Tobias turned and shot down the tunnel, into the dark. But even as he did, and as Angel's scent faded, his snake began to fight back. Tobias held onto Angel's face, his voice, his scent, and kept control. But he couldn't hold the snake's form as he kept remembering what it was like to be a human. He could only move past the first corner of the mine before the air shimmered. His skin rippled violently, and he fell to the ground, a human once more.
Gasping, shaking, Tobias's skin flashed hot then cold. He was going to be ill; he knew he was, just like the first time. He curled into himself, his throat dry, his lungs heavy. He must have made enough noise to draw attention, because he suddenly heard someone running down the tunnel. It wasn't long before Angel ran around the corner and skidded to a stop. They stared at each other for a long, humming moment before Angel dropped to his knees and yanked off his own coat, wrapping it around Tobias.
Then, to Tobias's great shock, Angel pulled him into his arms and hugged him hard.
"Oh, thank the spirits. I knew it, I knew you had survived." Angel's voice was thick with tears as he rocked them both, his arms in an unbreakable hold.
Tobias didn't know what to say. He still felt ill and was becoming more so by the minute. But right then, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to indulge for a moment. He took a deep breath, coughed, but still relished the scent of his deputy. Angel was so warm, the kind of warmth Tobias's skin had never exuded. He curled into his deputy, remembering acutely the reunion with his parents so many years ago. It had been so different from this. He'd been slapped by his mother, yelled at by his father. His arm had been grabbed, and he'd been dragged to their carriage and berated the entire way home. There'd been no tears, no words of relief or joy.
He didn't know what to make of Angel's obvious affection or how to handle it.
Angel suddenly pulled back, and their eyes met again. Tobias's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see his deputy's face well enough to see something in his eyes that sent a spike of fear down Tobias's spine.
"It was you," Angel whispered. "You were the rattlesnake."
Want to learn more? My website is here: www.mdgrimmwrites.com
Do you like long series (20+ books) or would you rather a short one (under 10?) or do you prefer trilogies?
-M.D. Grimm
Another excerpt and some background info
I'm back! Promoting my latest release "The Serpent and the Angel" (The Shifters Book 8).
"The Serpent and the Angel" was very fun to write because of the pairing of Tobias and Angel. I enjoy pairing "odd" couples and these two are perhaps the oddest of my pairings so far—a diamondback rattlesnake shifter (Tobias) and a golden eagle shifter (Angel). Since I find both of those animals beautiful and majestic in their own right, I liked the idea of them together. Also, I was intrigued by their symbolism in various Native American tribes. Both animals held (and hold) very important roles to those tribes, and I tried to play around with that within the story. But my greatest emphasis was put on the idea that they appear to be opposites in every way: one's above the earth, the other is earth-bound; one mates for life, the other is solitary… you get the idea. But in my story both of them are guardians. They approach their jobs differently but the core of who they are is the same.
And now here's an excerpt:
He pulled on Shadow Dawn's reins before dismounting. He approached five men, ones he knew well, Lord help him, who were currently getting their asses handed to them by one lone man. Tobias didn't recognize his face and figured he had to be a stranger. His clothes were plain and dirty around the cuffs and knees, indicating he'd been traveling for some time. He had a bag with him but lacked a hat.
Tobias stood for a moment, rather entranced by the ferocity and skill of the stranger. He was swift, his unusual gold eyes keen and sharp. He used arms and legs to defend himself, and one-by-one, each man fell to the ground, coughing dust and dirt. The sun glinted off brown hair streaked with gold, and it matched his skin, which was also an intriguing shade of light gold. The man was tall, but not nearly as tall as Tobias, who stood an intimidating six foot, three inches. The stranger had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and his coloring was certainly odd. A suspicion as to the stranger's origins formed in the back of Tobias's mind the longer he observed the man. When all five men were flat on the ground, moaning and groaning, Tobias was able to take a better look at the man's face: he had sharp features, especially his cheeks and nose, a heavy brow, and Tobias decided he was quite handsome and strangely beautiful at the same time. Then the stranger looked straight at him. Those sharp, gold eyes met his, and a zing of lust shot straight to his groin. The man panted, sweating visibly, his bag still held by one hand, his body tensed for more fight. Tobias smiled.
Interested? Find the book here http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=6201
Do you have any questions for me regarding my series or my life? Ask away! I shall try to answer.
But now a question for you: What sort of odd pairing would you like to see in a shifter story? What two animals would you find hilarious to pair together?
Excerpt!
Hello everyone! M.D. Grimm here promoting "The Serpent and the Angel," the latest story in my Shifters series.
"The Serpent and the Angel" continues the story of the ancient scrolls and their bird guardians. For those of you puzzled by the direction I'm taking with this series, rest assured I have a plan, the scrolls are very important and that's why I'm diving into the past to introduce them. And because it's fun J
If you want to learn more about my "grand plan" for the series, you can check out my blog at: http://www.mdgrimmwrites.com/#!blog/cqsg
I share all you ever wanted (or not wanted) to know!
I'm not too familiar with historicals, which is why I wanted to challenge myself with "Hunted Guardian" (book 7), "The Serpent and the Angel" (book 8), and the nearly-completed book #9 "Predator and Prey." I wanted to introduce the scrolls in a historical setting to set up where they are in the present (which will be books #10-#12, and possibly later ones).
Now here's a short excerpt:
Tobias knew how to intimidate, to make others fear. Lord knew it was his greatest skill. He had a deadly stare, aptly like that of a rattlesnake, and his eyes, his expression, were blistering cold. His boots thumped up the two steps of the general store's long porch before he entered the building itself. He turned smartly to the counter where an older gentlemen, one in a snappy suit, stood, waiting for the few customers inside to purchase their items. The man's gaze shot to Tobias's, and he visibly paled, his eyes widening.
With a casual lean on the counter, which didn't fool anyone, Tobias lifted the brim of his hat a fraction before considering the man.
"Good morning, Mr. Thompson."
Mr. Thompson had to clear his throat before he found his voice. "Good morning, Sheriff."
"I hear we might have a problem."
He blinked. "Problem, sir?"
"Aye, a problem. Namely, a problem you might have with a few of the hardworking miners the coal mine employs."
"I got no problem with those men."
Tobias's lips lifted slightly. It wasn't a smile. "Right glad I am to hear it, Mr. Thompson. That puts my mind at ease. Now, I'll just leave here and go tell those nice hardworking Chinese men that you don't have a problem with them."
Mr. Thompson scowled, his wrinkled face becoming more wrinkled. "Damn Chinamen. What kinda trouble they causing now?"
Tobias lifted his eyebrows. "They claimed, mistakenly, I'm sure, that you be raising the prices for them, while keeping the prices reasonable for the other miners. I reckon that ain't true, is it, sir?"
Mr. Thompson, while obviously still wary of the sheriff, didn't seem to want to appear cowardly. There were a few decent women in the store, including his seamstress wife, who were obviously staring at the two of them, eager to see what transpired.
"They come to this country, stealing work from decent folk. Lord knows they gotta damn pay for it."
Tobias tilted his head slowly to one side, his eyes flat, his face emotionless. Then, without warning, Tobias lashed out. He gripped Mr. Thompson's collar and yanked him forward, causing his upper half to lie flat along the counter. Mr. Thompson gasped and choked, his eyes reeling. Tobias shoved his face near the older man's, their noses almost touching.
"Let me make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Thompson," Tobias said in a low voice only the two of them could hear. "Consider this your only warning. Whether it's a Negro, Chinaman, Indian, or a damn dandy who walks into this store, you had better treat them with the same decency you treat those who look like you."
Mr. Thompson sputtered. Tobias tightened his hold, his strength absolute.
"I don't got a use for bigots in this town, and you know how I feel about useless folk."
Mr. Thompson paled even further, his eyes growing dark with terror.
Tobias paused, making sure his point sunk into the man's thick skull. "If a person got a use in this town, they get the same damn items for the same damn price. Have I made myself clear?"
"Aye." It was nearly a squeak.
Tobias let go and shoved Mr. Thompson lightly on the shoulder, sending him back across the counter. Mr. Thompson stumbled and panted, his hands shaky as he tried to straighten his clothing.
Tobias gripped the hem of his vest and gave a light tug to resituate it, before smoothing out his shirt. He sniffed and lowered the brim of his hat again, casting his face into shadow, his eyes the only things gleaming.
"Remember, Mr. Thompson, I only give one warning."
Mr. Thompson nodded vigorously, gulping. "Y—yes, sir."
Tobias spun on his heal, tipped his hat to the ladies who stood behind him, stunned. Then he was gone, striding out of the store and back down the lane. The sun glinted off the sheriff's star pinned to his vest as he now observed his surroundings. Parkers Hollow was a tough town with tough people, and he had damn well be tougher. That had never been hard for him. He was cold, detached, and merciless. He'd never pretended to be otherwise. Lord knew he was exactly the type of sheriff a town like this needed.
He lived by one rule: If a person had a use, then that person deserved his protection. In these rough lands, there wasn't any room for laziness or parasites. The last sheriff had learned that lesson quickly… when Tobias had put a bullet in his brain. The man had been a corrupt, drunken horse turd in fancy suits. He'd certainly had no use whatsoever.
Which do you prefer: series with the same couple/characters every book or different characters/couples but with a related theme?
I shall be back!
-M.D.
And now for an excerpt of Sex Lies & Wedding Bells! (PG)
Since you can read the first chapter over on the Dreamspinner page, how 'bout a bit from the first time Kieran and Jaxon meet?
A few minutes later, the rest of Kieran's breakfast arrived. Natalee appeared ready to stand guard and watch him eat, but the comings and goings of other customers kept her occupied. She didn't have any extra time for Kieran except to offer a refill of coffee, which he gratefully accepted.
As advertised, the pecan pancakes were delicious: large, fluffy, and full of chunks of pecan that added a delightful crunch. There was real butter and genuine maple syrup, and Kieran was in breakfast heaven. The fruit salad was fresh and juicy sweet, and the bacon was thick and meaty, not grilled to a crisp.
Positively breakfast heaven.
Kieran didn't make it a habit to be awake at breakfast time if he could help it, but if not, he required a good breakfast. The Copper Caboose served breakfast all day, and he'd happily eat all his meals here if he couldn't find any other place with decent food.
Kieran was pushing the empty plates away when the bell on the door jingled and the most beautiful man he'd ever seen walked into the restaurant. He'd seen plenty, so this was no mean compliment.
Make that most beautiful person, Kieran amended. He'd never seen anyone—man or woman—more attractive. Just over six feet, the object of future fantasies had short, neatly cut sun-streaked brown hair. His eyes—bright greenish-hazel, slightly heavy-lidded but in a sexy, just-fucked way—mesmerized Kieran, and just looking at his plush, full-lipped mouth threatened to give Kieran an immediate hard-on.
It wasn't simply his appearance, but the way he seemed so unaware of his power to attract. Kieran's usual playmates had no doubts about their looks, and that knowledge seeped into their personalities in all the worst ways.
This man wore a Wedgwood-blue button-down shirt fitted closely enough to make it clear he spent time at the gym, or played at least one sport, and took proper care of that amazing body.
And he was walking directly toward Kieran.
Just then, Kieran noticed the woman who had come in with the man and had pushed ahead of him as she moved toward Kieran's table.
"Are you Ky… Kee…." The woman fumbled the words, then gave up.
Kieran's eyes were still glued to the beautiful man.
"Keer-un." The man's voice was rich and resonant, with lovely inflections that made it distinctive and incredibly sexy as he spoke Kieran's name. "It's Gaelic, right?"
Kieran smiled, noticing a few caramel-colored freckles scattered over the tanned nose and cheeks of the man. Kieran realized for the first time in his life how much he adored freckles. At least the freckles on that face.
"Yes, it is." Kieran hoped he didn't have a stupid grin on his face. "You're probably the only person in town who can pronounce it besides me." Only natural that someone with an "X" in his name would be sensitive to another person with a slightly unusual name.
"I'm Danetta Archer." The woman practically shoved her way in front of Jaxon, blocking Kieran's view. She nodded her head in Beautiful's direction. "And this is Jaxon Lang, my fiancé." She reached out to shake Kieran's hand, and he felt obligated to take it. She gave him a short businesslike squeeze, far more powerful than her looks implied.
"Jaxon," Beautiful said, offering his own hand. Kieran took it, prolonging the contact, enjoying the warm, firm grip. Reluctantly, he let go before anyone noticed.
"Nice to meet you both." Kieran's gaze still focused on Jaxon.
Without asking, Danetta sat herself down in one of the chairs opposite Kieran. Jaxon sat down at the side of the table to Kieran's left, his knee slightly grazing Kieran's as he settled into the chair. The resulting jolt of electricity sped through Kieran's body, and he fought to keep his attention on the conversation.
"Alexa Harrington told me you'd be coming to town early because you wanted to do an article on my wedding." Danetta beamed at the word "wedding." "I'm not really familiar with Gloss. It sounds like it's a fashion mag, perhaps like Vogue or Marie Claire?" She paused. "You have a photographer coming, too?" Her eyes widened and flashed with excitement over the idea of her wedding being featured in one of those magazines.
Kieran shook his head. "I take my own photographs." He rarely did, preferring to paint pictures with words. "And 'gloss' actually has another definition: commentary or interpretation. It's meant to be an intellectual play on words: one connotation indicates shallowness while the other is almost opposite in meaning."
Jaxon smiled at Kieran's explanation. Danetta looked blank. "You're familiar with the word 'glossary'? They're related." "Oh, right," she said.
"It's very clever." Jaxon nodded.
Kieran gave a casual shrug, pleased with Jaxon's approval. "Well, I can't take the credit for it."
Jaxon turned his full attention on Kieran. "We wanted to introduce ourselves to you now, and—"
"We know you'll want to do some other interviews and I—we would be happy to schedule those for you, to help you out," Danetta interrupted.
Damn woman was already finishing Jaxon's sentences, and they weren't even married yet, Kieran thought wryly. It didn't escape his notice that Jaxon hadn't used any other pronoun besides "we," which was already disgusting in itself. Worse, Danetta had mainly used "I" and "my." Those sorts of details spoke volumes.
Jaxon might be the most beautiful name I've ever heard—even with the fucking X. Kieran forced himself to snap out of this daydream in order to participate in the conversation without drooling over Jaxon Lang.
"That's very accommodating," Kieran replied. "How did you know I was here?"
"Natalee called and told us," Danetta replied. "She knew we wanted to meet you as soon as possible. Everyone in town is on the lookout for you."
"You probably feel like you're being stalked." Jaxon's eyes twinkled in amusement. "Well, you are. I'm very sorry about that, but you're the biggest thing to happen to this town in a long time." Jaxon paused as he seemed to be giving Kieran a welcome once-over. "In more ways than one. I mean, we heard you're quite tall." A rather adorable wide-eyed look of embarrassment flashed across his face. "And everyone in town loves Danetta, so they're all very excited for our big day." Jaxon turned to her with a dopey, lovey-dovey smile that made Kieran want to puke up the fantastic breakfast he'd just eaten.
Jaxon's tone and demeanor were heading directly into Stepford territory, and it was a pretty disheartening realization that this beautiful man would be Danetta's husband in just a few days.
"So, Alexa said you want to focus on about how even though I was engaged before"—Danetta gave Jaxon a sideways glance—"that now I'm sure I've found true love with Jaxon. Have I got that right?"
Kieran liked how she put it—engaged, as opposed to actually had three weddings.
She continued, "And you want to meet the three men I didn't marry, so you can—what, compare them to Jaxon?"
"Well, I admit that's part of it." Kieran avoided Jaxon's eyes at the implied insult.
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text:
Robert Manaster
where my worlds meet…
Cotranslations
Art for You
My Cotranslated Books
Category: First Book
Review of Diana Marie Delgado's "Tracing the Horse"
February 4, 2021 rmanasterLeave a comment
https://coloradoreview.colostate.edu/reviews/tracing-the-horse/
(Review published in The Colorado Review, July 2020)
In her strong, debut poetry collection, Tracing the Horse, Diana Marie Delgado comes to terms with cultural forces that limit her, especially those of machismo—as in "Songs of Escape" where "Men are the only islands / I've ever lived on. / I'll never get away." Delgado, though, doesn't back down. Starting in the first poem "Little Swan," the speaker-poet has this urge "to understand the drive // to hurt something young, / wild with sky." There's this insatiable curiosity about violence and violation, which is inherent in this masculine world.
There's lovely varied pacing in this book, which is its one of its strengths. Almost half the poems are compact yet spacious with one or two-line stanzas, and they usually spark in the fireworks of emotional and linguistic resonance, such as in…
Posted in Book Reviews, First Book, Poetry Book, ReviewTagged book review, First Book, poetry
Review of Ashley Toliver's "Spectra"
April 26, 2020 rmanasterLeave a comment
https://www.massreview.org/node/7490/
(Review published in The Massachusetts Review, July 2019)
"Kinesis," the first poem in Ashley Toliver's powerful first book Spectra, frames the collection's primary strength: that of movement through trauma and the emotionally dark places in the female self, where one can be "plumbing / a violent kinesis. "This movement takes place via Toliver's poetic form and her charged poetic language. While near the collection's beginning, the female speaker's husband in "Long Division" is waiting for "a woman / to crawl out of / herself," by the collection's last poem, the speaker sees herself "in the last pew / of the lit horizon / in the wide-open field of the now." The forces that constrain and inspire the speaker's growth shift from her male partner's physical and emotional abuse in the compressed first section to her struggle with optic nerve cancer throughout the spatial middle section to the last section's "ripening" of the "blue tilt" at dusk where there's "no northern limit / in the capacity for awe."
Most of the poems in the first section, "Housekeeping," compress shards of lines into flash-prose poems, which take the same titles as the section's. While the title implies a uniform kind of keeping order and keeping track, which traditionally has been a domestic role for the American female, something difficult in these poems and barely navigable is going on, which surfaces then plumbs underneath, as here:…
Review of Anna Maria Hong's "Age of Glass"
https://coloradoreview.colostate.edu/reviews/age-of-glass/
(Review published in Colorado Review, May 2019)
The speaker in "A Parable" concludes, "It was our time to savage." Thus begins Anna Maria Hong's vision in her first poetry collection, Age of Glass, where a fierce and uncompromising feminine voice asserts and empowers itself, notably in a literary landscape that has been dominated by a white male canon. This voice appropriates myths and fables that inform this canon's assumptions, adding to the diverse and intersectional voices characterizing current poetry.
Hong's literary landscape is the sonnet. All but three poems riff on this form. Hong's sonnet disrupts this male-dominated box, this literary container, yet retains its echoes—especially via her stanzas corresponding to a given sonnet's structure, quatrains followed by couplet or by two tercets (a sestet). Hong's sonnets do not hold to the end-rhyme scheme, expected volta, nor iambic pentameter. The rhymes can be packed and internal as within the frenetic pace into which the middle of…
Review of Josephine Yu's "Prayer Book of the Anxious"
Prayer Book of the Anxious
(Review published in New Orleans Review, October 2018)
In the middle of Josephine Yu's Prayer Book of the Anxious, the speaker in "Prayer to Saint Joseph: For the Restless" pleads for this patron saint not to lead us away "when unease thickens like lime calcifying // in the porcelain basins of our chests." By the end of the poem, the speaker notes a friend who "stepped off a bridge, holding hands with his loneliness." The unease has compounded into intolerable pain. Within this range, Yu situates one of her main tropes in this book: the struggles with what pains us, what keeps us alive.
The speaker concludes: "Still our hands as we pack. Remind us the roughest fabric / of the self will end up folded like a sweater / in the suitcase, pilled and raveled and transcendent." Without "of the self" and "transcendent," this passage dwells in plain observation. The plain-spoken speaker folds and orders the roughest and pilled fabric one has worn. All is safe and packed away. It seems the self is put away for later use, protected from the turmoil of one's life. One escapes the pain. Is this escape temporary or permanent? What are the consequences?
The last word "transcendent,"…
Review of Caleb Curtiss' "A Taxonomy of the Space Between Us"
April 26, 2020 April 26, 2020 rmanasterLeave a comment
A Taxonomy of the Space Between Us
(Review published in Rain Taxi, spring 2016)
"Even now, I know I could use this moment, / / this dying thing to remember her with, / but I don't want to." Thus, triggered by a dead bird, Caleb Curtiss in A Taxonomy of the Space Between Us resists (yet retains) the memory of his sister's death from a rural car accident. Throughout the chapbook, tension surfaces between presence/memory and absence/forgetting. "Self-Portrait without My Dead Sister," for instance, ironically remembers his sister's absence; in several poems, a left parenthesis without a matching right interrupts a strain of thought, which seems soon forgotten with each successive strain becoming a strand of memory both uncontained and unending:
(a presence that will burn
(long after it's passed
The poems weave details and…
Posted in Book Reviews, Chapbook, First Book, ReviewTagged book review, First Book, poetry
Review of Camille Rankine's "Incorrect Merciful Impulses"
Book Review: Incorrect Merciful Impulses by Camille Rankine
(Review published in The Los Angeles Review, March 2018)
Camille Rankine's compelling debut collection, Incorrect Merciful Impulses, enacts the struggles of one trying to connect broadly with society and more intimately with both another person and one's self. The threat of disconnection is everywhere. In the opening poem, "Tender," the speaker begins:
Dear patriot
Dear catastrophe
None of this means what we thought it did
Dear bone fragments
Dear displacement
Dear broken skin
I am in over my head
The voice takes on a tone of tender weariness. The spacious lines, lack of punctuation, and the endearing, repetitive address "dear" opens up space for the uncertain and overwhelmed speaker struggling with present and past threats.
These struggles inhabit…
Book Reviews Chapbook First Book News Poetry Book Review

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Editors' Picks: 21 Things Not to Miss in New York's Art World This Week
Here's what's happening this week.
Sarah Cascone, September 9, 2019
Annie Morris. Photo courtesy of Timothy Taylor.
Each week, we search New York City for the most exciting and thought-provoking shows, screenings, and events. See them below.
Tuesday, September 10–Wednesday, October 16
Photo courtesy of Thank God for Abortion and Viva Ruiz.
1. "Abortion Is Normal" at Project for Empty Space
Project for Empty Space launches a new multipart exhibition series "Abortion Is Normal," as a response to the renewed political attacks on a woman's right to chose. The gallery has teamed with activist collective group Shout Your Abortion to present the work of artists Christen Clifford, Dominique Duroseau, Yvette Molina, and Viva Ruiz + Thank God For Abortion.
Location: Project for Empty Space, 2 Gateway Center Gallery, Newark
Time: Opening reception, 6 p.m.–8 p.m.; Monday–Friday, 11 a.m.–6 p.m.
—Sarah Cascone
Tuesday, September 10–Saturday, October 19
Anni Albers, detail of Camino Real (1968). Courtesy of The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation, David Zwirner.
2. Anni Albers at David Zwirner
In the gallery's first show of Anni Albers's work since David Zwirner announced representation of the artist's estate, Albers's complex works will be on view in all their geometric glory. A highlight is Albers's 10-foot-high wall hanging Camino Real, from 1968, seen for the first time outside its home in Mexico City, and revealing the impact Latin American culture had on the artist's work.
Location: David Zwirner, 537 West 20th Street
Time: Opening reception, 6 p.m.–8 p.m.; Tuesday–Saturday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m.
—Caroline Goldstein
Louisa Chase, Untitled (1981). Courtesy of Hirschl and Adler.
3. Gallery Night at the Fuller Building
Eight dealers in the Fuller Building are teaming up to hold their fall openings in concert and remind the art world why the Art Deco architectural gem has historically been a gallery hub. Highlights will include six decades worth of prints by Ed Ruscha at David Benrimon Fine Art and neo-expressionist painter Louisa Chase—currently the subject of an exhibition at the Parrish Art Museum in Water Mill—at Hirschl and Adler.
Location: The Fuller Building, 41 East 57th Street
Time: 6 p.m.–8 p.m.
Qinza Najm, Tabdeeli (2017-19). Photo courtesy of A.I.R. Gallery.
4. "Performance & Artist Talk with Qinza Najm" at A.I.R. Gallery
A.I.R. celebrates a trio of fall openings with a performance of Qinza Najm's Tabdeeli, Urdu for "transformation." The work, which debuted at the Queens Museum in 2017, features video projections, a soundtrack, and five dancers encased in translucent fabric, representing the restrictions presented by various political and social taboos.
Location: A.I.R. Gallery, 155 Plymouth St, Brooklyn
Time: 6:30 p.m.–8:30 p.m.
Artisan gold-mining tunnel, Andes, Peru, 2016. © Lisa Barnard. Courtesy of the artist and MACK.
5. Lisa Barnard, The Canary and The Hammer Talk and Signing at Printed Matter
Lisa Barnard's newest book, The Canary and The Hammer (MACK, 2019), blends documentary photography, text, and archival materials to look at humanity's continued obsession with gold and the lengths we go to obtain it—even as the materiality of wealth becomes increasingly abstracted in our technocapitalist world. Barnard will present a talk on the project at the book's launch party, hosted by Printed Matter.
Location: Printed Matter, 231 11th Avenue
Time: Thursday, 6 p.m.–8 p.m
Culture Canon presents The Crow. Courtesy of Culture Canon.
6. The Crow Screening and Q&A at Nitehawk Cinema
Culture Canon, a new roving film screening series curated by Jon Hogan, launches with an ode to the 25th anniversary of The Crow, perhaps best known for the on-set death of star Brandon Lee. Following a 35mm screening, Hogan will lead a Q&A with Bruce Lee biographer Matthew Polly.
Location: Nitehawk Cinema, 188 Prospect Park West, Brooklyn
Thursday, September 12–Sunday, September 15, Thursday, September 19–Sunday, September 22
Elizabeth D. Herman and Celeste Sloman, "Redefining Representation: The Women of the 116th Congress." Photo courtesy of the New York Times.
7. Photoville at Brooklyn Bridge Park
For the eighth straight year, Photoville sets up shop under the Brooklyn Bridge, parking shipping containers and turning them into art galleries to create an immersive photography village. The New York Times will present "Redefining Representation: The Women of the 116th Congress," a project by photojournalist Elizabeth D. Herman and photographer Celeste Sloman documenting the 131 women currently serving in Congress.
Location: Brooklyn Bridge Park
Time: Thursday and Friday, 4 p.m.–10 p.m.; Saturday, 12 p.m.–10 p.m.; Sunday, 12 p.m.–8 p.m.
Thursday, September 12–Thursday, October 12
Erik Mark Sandberg, Jello, 2019.
8. "DREAMstate" at GR Gallery
Opening on Bowery this Thursday at GR Gallery is "DREAMstate," a group show featuring artists Joseph Lee, Erik Mark Sandberg, Dennis Osadebe, and Joshua Vides. All are exhibiting with the gallery for the first time but I'm most looking forward to Sandberg's works. His fuzzy and gelatinous textures are a sensory experience akin to slime oozing onto Oppenheim's cup and saucer.
Location: 255 Bowery
Time: Opening reception, 6 p.m.–9 p.m.; Wednesday–Sunday, 12 p.m.–7 p.m.
—Cristina Cruz
François Chaignaud, Дyми Moï (Dumy Moyi). Photo ©Ilaria Scarpa.
9. "Crossing the Line Festival" from the French Institute Alliance Française
The French Institute Alliance Française's annual arts festival features French and American artists, including Pierre Huyghe, who is presenting his video installation The Host and the Cloud at the FIAF galleries on East 60th Street; and choreographer Jérôme Bel, with the US premiere of Isadora Duncan, inspired by the famed dancer's autobiography, My Life.
Location: Six venues across the city
Price: Prices vary, some events are free with RSVP
Time: Hours vary
Thursday, September 12–Saturday, October 19
A Joe Massey drawing. Courtesy of Ricco/Maresca.
10. "Shut Up: Joe Massey's Messages from Prison" at Ricco/Maresca
A mysterious figure of the Outsider Art field, African American artist and poet Joe Massey was serving time for murder in the Ohio Penitentiary in Columbus when the surrealist magazine View began printing his submissions, alongside works by the likes of Pablo Picasso and Marcel Duchamp. Ricco/Maresca presents a selection of drawings, mostly done in black or blue pen, created during Massey's nearly 16-year incarceration. The artist's later life is shrouded in mystery.
Location: Ricco/Maresca, 529 West 20th Street
Time: Opening reception, 6 p.m.–8 p.m.; Tuesday–Friday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m.; Saturday, 11 a.m.–6 p.m.
11. "Annie Morris" at Timothy Taylor
British artist Annie Morris's first show with Timothy Taylor features new tapestry works as well as her precariously stacked spherical sculptures, formed from plaster and sand and painted with ultramarine, viridian, and ochre pigments that the artist has hand-sourced.
Location: Timothy Taylor, 515 West 19th Street
Time: Opening reception, 6 p.m.–8 p.m.; Tuesday–Friday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m.
Hannah Van Bart, Face to Face (2018). Image courtesy of the artist and Marianne Boesky Gallery.
12."Hannah Van Bart: Places and Beings" at Marianne Boesky Gallery
This marks the sixth solo show of work by Amsterdam-based artist Hannah Van Bart and the selection of new paintings—landscapes, portraits, and still-life scenes—feature her signature moody palette and often mysterious imagery. Van Bart is known for skillfully melding figural and abstract styles to convey both the physical imagery and psychological sense of people and places..
Location: 507 West 24th Street
Thursday, September 12–Saturday, November 2
Flowers Gallery, Aleah Chapin, We Held the Mountains on Our Shoulders (2017).
13. "Aleah Chapin: What Happens at the Edge" at Flowers Gallery
Flowers Gallery is starting the fall season with a bang with a solo show of New York Academy of Art alumna Aleah Chapin. Chapin juxtaposes soft, nude female figures against the rigidity of rocks and other natural formations in these large, monochromatic paintings in an effort to explore a "world concerned with 'in-betweenness and edges.'"
Location: Flowers Gallery, 529 West 20th Street, third floor
—Neha Jambhekar
Agathe Snow and Marianne Vitale, Customers (2019). Photo courtesy of the Elaine de Kooning House.
14. "Double Vision: Agathe Snow & Marianne Vitale" Closing Reception at the Elaine de Kooning House
Artists and frequent collaborators Marianne Vitale and Agathe Snow spent the month of August creating work in residency at the Elaine de Kooning House in East Hampton. The resulting exhibition is a multimedia explosion, with figurative paintings as well as sculptural installations, including a piece made from car bumpers left behind by John Chamberlain, who lived in the house after Elaine de Kooning. The artists have also built a bar in the basement, which they've been using to serve drinks—including Casa Dragones tequila—during a series of parties and events, all culminating with a closing party this weekend during the Bridge, an invitation-only art and car show in nearby Bridgehampton.
Location: The Elaine de Kooning House, 55 Alewive Brook Road, East Hampton
Price: Free with RSVP
Time: Closing reception, 6 p.m.–8 p.m.; Tuesday–Saturday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m.
Inspectors on the roof of the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris. Photo: Lionel Bonaventure/AFP/Getty Images.
15. "Restoring Notre Dame: A Look at the Digital Scans That Could Help" at the Frick Collection
In the wake of the devastating fire that burned the spire of Paris's Notre Dame cathedral, Lindsay Cook, a visiting assistant professor at Vassar College's art department in Poughkeepsie, New York, presents high-resolution 3-D laser scans of the historic church conducted by the late architectural historian Andrew Tallon beginning in 2010. Cook will explain how this near-complete digital record of the building is assisting in the restoration efforts.
Location: The Frick Collection, Music Room, 1 East 70th Street
Time: 4 p.m.
Opening Friday, September 13
Janiva Ellis, Something Anxiety (2017). Courtesy of 47 Canal.
16. "Janiva Ellis" at 47 Canal
One unmissable highlight of the 2019 Whitney Biennial was Janiva Ellis's Uh Oh, Look Who Got Wet (2019), a 20-foot-long show-stopper of a painting depicting a woman with child busting through an oil-slicked neon river against a crimson sky. The deafening praise made it easy to forget that Ellis, who is 32, has had just one New York solo show in her career, and it was just two years ago. Her second opens Friday at the star-making Lower East Side outfit 47 Canal. There's little information about what's in store, but hopefully we will get another set of grandly scaled, psychedelically tinged paintings.
Location: 47 Canal, 291 Grand Street, Second Floor
—Nate Freeman
Friday, September 13–Sunday, October 20
17. "Holly Village" at Bodega
A strange and delightful press release accompanies "Holly Village," a group show opening Friday at Bodega, on the Lower East Side. Instead of the normal abstract artspeak, curator James Michael Shaeffer describes, at great length, the series of unlikely events that led him to put together the show—starting with a chance encounter with artists at, of all places, a sports bar in the East Village where he was watching an NBA Finals game. "Unwittingly, this sports bar had managed to attract a gaggle of MFAs," he writes. From there, Shaeffer describes how he chose works by Whitney Claflin, Trisha Baga, Greg Parma Smith, and Lutz Bacher, among others for the stacked group show, and in a meta note, he also describes the process behind the press release itself. The first set of eyes to read it was his mother.
Location: Bodega, 167 Rivington Street
Time: Opening reception, 6 p.m.–8 p.m.; Wednesday–Sunday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m.
Friday, September 13–Saturday, October 26
Tali Lennox, The Ballad of Linda Leven (2019). Courtesy of the artist and Meredith Rosen Gallery.
18. "Tali Lennox: The Ballad of Linda Leven" at Meredith Rosen Gallery
For her first solo exhibition with Meredith Rosen, Tali Lennox presents a series of portraits that mash up real New York subjects with fantastical representations of the (often forlorn) personal mythologies they've manifested. Inspired by the haunting allegorical imagery of Brassaï and Otto Dix, Lennox captures the eerie beauty of ravaged hopes, as well as the weirdly alluring aftermath of entire lives lived in excess on the societal fringes of modern America.
Location: Meredith Rosen Gallery, 11 East 80th Street
Time: Opening reception, 6 p.m.–8 p.m.; Normal hours, Tuesday–Saturday, noon–6 p.m.
—Tim Schneider
Friday, September 13–Saturday, November 2
Aliza Nisenbaum, Jenna and Moises (2018). Courtesy the artist and Anton Kern Gallery.
19. "Aliza Nisenbaum: Coreografias" at Anton Kern Gallery
After her star turn at the 2017 Whitney Biennial, Aliza Nisenbaum is making her New York gallery debut at Anton Kern with a new suite of portraits and raucously colorful canvases. The works are born from Nisenbaum's interaction with community groups as an activist, and that level of intimacy and investment in her subjects shows.
Location: Anton Kern Gallery, 16 East 55th Street
Suzy Kellems Dominik, I Can Feel. Photo courtesy of BFA.
20. "Tracing Feminism" at Brooklyn Bridge Park
Suzy Kellems Dominik's neon sculpture I Can Feel, a celebration of the female orgasm, a hit during Art Basel Miami Beach back in 2017, has touched down in Brooklyn Bridge Park courtesy of Chashama. To celebrate the opening, the artist is holding a conversation with Jasmine Wahi, founder and co-director of Newark's Project for Empty Space and Kathleen Landy, founder and president of the Feminist Institute; moderated by arts publicist Ellie Hayworth.
Location: One Brooklyn Bridge Park, Brooklyn
Sunday, September 15–Monday, December 16, 2019
Christian Nyampeta, "Words after the World" installation view, Camden Arts Centre, 2017. Photo: Damian Griffiths.
21. "École du Soir (The Evening Academy)" at SculptureCenter
At SculptureCenter, Rwandan-born artist Christian Nyampeta takes the institution's prompt, "thinking Africa" then and now, to consider the idea of an "evening school," as well as functional communal objects.
Location: 44-19 Purves Street, Long Island City
Price: $10 suggested donation
Time: Opening reception, 6 p.m.–8 p.m.; Thursday–Monday, 11 a.m.–6 p.m.
By Sarah Cascone , Sep 30, 2019
'I Want to Create Awareness': After a Terrifying Diagnosis, Artist Ugo Rondinone Is Organizing a High-Profile Auction to Benefit Cancer Research
By , Sep 9, 2019
A Vast Bauhaus Museum Opens in the German City Where the Famous Art School Came of Age


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As I sat to write this, I realised that I've always had mixed feelings about you. And each time, it confused me, the way I felt.
If the build up to your arrival was good, I cursed you for even making an appearance, and hoped you would just leave me alone! I wasn't happy with what we had going on, and I'm pretty sure I made it evident quite often that you gave me 'the blues'.
And then, there are those times when all I can do is wait for you to show up. The time till you do is filled with such drudgery, that I don't think I may even see you. All I want is you, and you do take your sweet time getting to me then, don't you?
I have realised lately that I'd like to be more accepting about your presence in my life. After all, if not for you, I may not meet those responsible for my boundless joy ever. And even the woes would stay forever, rather than let us start anew. I'd like to feel good about you, even when the build up is amazing. So, this is a start.


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Partly cloudy skies. High 63F. Winds light and variable..
The Hyundai Santa Cruz Limited comes with a turbocharged engine with 275 horsepower and leather seats.
Mike Hagerty/Special to the Town Crier
Hyundai has a hit on its hands with eye-catching Santa Cruz
By Mike Hagerty
Jan 4, 2022 Updated Jan 4, 2022
An anecdote about the 2022 Hyundai Santa Cruz: As my wife and I were driving onto the Santa Cruz Wharf, a young guy in a car driving toward the exit hit the brakes, grabbed his smartphone, hung out the window of his car and started taking pictures.
His was the most physical reaction, but everywhere we went over our six days in the Hyundai Santa Cruz – from the city of Santa Cruz itself to the Point Reyes National Seashore and San Francisco in between – the vehicle drew admiring glances and inquiries about what it was, what it could do and how much it costs.
Naming cars is tricky. It's why some companies have made up words (Camry) or gone alphanumeric. Hyundai is big on names of places for its SUVs (Kona, Tucson, Santa Fe) and now its first pickup truck.
Not to overthink it (insert eye-rolls from literally everyone who knows me personally here), but the name "Santa Cruz" is a great fit for this vehicle. Santa Cruz is a small beach city with lots of fun things to do, a relaxed attitude and a youthful vibe. It's also very much its own thing. Santa Cruz isn't "just like (name of any other beach town)."
Under the hood, the 2022 Hyundai Santa Cruz Limited AWD has a 2.5-liter turbocharged four-cylinder making 275 horsepower and 310 pounds per foot of torque (lower-spec models get a non-turbo 2.5 with 190 horsepower and 180 pounds per foot of torque).
Mated to an eight-speed dual-clutch automatic transmission with paddle shifters, it's quick, with 0-60 mph runs in approximately 6.3 seconds. The Environmental Protection Agency fuel economy estimate is 19 mpg city/27 mpg highway.
Superb handling
It didn't matter whether it was city streets, freeways or the fabulous backroads of Santa Cruz, Santa Clara, San Mateo, San Francisco or Marin counties, the Santa Cruz's road manners were impeccable and its handling superb. There may be a pickup bed back there, but at the wheel, it feels for all the world like a capable sport sedan.
About that bed. It's a 4-footer with a sliding cover over the top. To open it, you have to lower the tailgate, and when you lock the doors, you lock the tailgate, too. So, unlike a lot of pickup beds, the Santa Cruz's has the security of a car trunk. The cover can be left in place and cargo loaded through the tailgate alone. Or it can be rolled back to load from above and to carry things that are taller than the cover would allow.
The base price of the Limited AWD is $39,720. Among the standard equipment highlights at that price are a complete suite of active safety features, 20-inch alloy wheels, power sunroof, leather-trimmed seats, dual automatic climate control, rain-sensing wipers, Bose premium audio system and navigation.
The only extra-cost options on our tester were the Sage Gray paint ($400) and carpeted floor mats ($195), so with $1,225 freight, the as-tested price is $41,450.
Hyundai says the Santa Cruz is targeted at the weekend adventurer – people often living in urban areas who want "versatile transportation that is equally flexible for urban, adventure, occupational or even home improvement gear." Looks to me like they have hit that target dead center.
The small pickup truck battle is just beginning. I haven't driven Ford's Maverick yet, but by all appearances, it's a different, more traditional take on a small pickup. In 1970s terms, the Maverick is the new Ford Courier, while the Santa Cruz is the new Subaru BRAT, perfected to a degree unimaginable back in the day.
It's probably the native Californian in me, but fun wins every time – especially in those rare cases where it doesn't hurt function. The 2022 Hyundai Santa Cruz is a winner.
Mike Hagerty, vice president of membership for Western Automotive Journalists (waj.org), has been writing about cars since 1997. Read more of his reviews at MikeHagertyCars.com.
Tester beware: allegedly unlicensed COVID test site operating in Mountain View
Amid dearth of tests, uncertain PCR sources arise – and two Los Altos resources this week
Infections rise, test lines stay long, schools remain open – for now
New COVID pill has local roots: First clinical trial patient enrolled at El Camino
Los Altos Hills installs first batch of automatic license plate readers
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Hunter Who Killed Over 5,000 Elephants is 'Totally Unrepentant'. Internet Freaks Out.
Ron Thomson, a big game hunter who claims he has shot at least 5,000 elephants, 50 hippos, and 60 lions says he is "totally unrepentant," even with such a high kill count. He claims that he didn't hunt for sport, saying that his actions were for population management. However, animal rights groups claim his "management culling" is just a cover.
Thomson, 77, spent nearly six decades working for the national parks system in Africa, according to a report by the Daily Mail. He says that his hunting was meant to keep various animal populations under control.
Animal rights campaigners believe otherwise, pointing to the steep decline in elephant numbers as a sign that Thomson may not be telling the truth. Eduardo Gonçalves, the founder of the Campaign to Ban Trophy Hunting, says that "management culling" is a term often used to disguise trophy hunting activities.
Thomson was forced to step forward about his record after the Campaign to Ban Trophy Hunting released a report branding Thomson as the most prolific elephant killer in the world.
On his website, Thomson claims that he has killed 800 buffalo, 50 hippos, 40 leopards, and 60 lions along with the thousands of elephants.
Additionally, that total does not include any kills made while he was serving as the leader of a culling team. The group, during the 1970s, shot 2,500 elephants along with 300 hippos in Gonarezhou National Park.
At one point during his career, Thomson was the game warden at Hwange National Park. He was also a professional hunter for three years.
On his YouTube channel, Thomson argues that elephants are not actually an endangered species, claiming that southern African wildlife parks have "ten to 20 times more elephants" than the region can sustain and asserting that the massive creatures are actually destroying the environment.
He also claims that, without proper population management, the elephants could overrun the parks and even endanger other species.


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Email HIPAA Compliance
August 8, 2018complianceeditorHIPAA News0
Whether you need to ensure your email complies with HIPAA will depend on how you are going to use email with ePHI. If you will only ever send emails inside the organization, it may not be required to make your email HIPAA compliant.
If your email network is placed behind a firewall, it is not required to encrypt your emails. Encryption is only obligatory when your emails are shared beyond your firewall. However, access controls to email accounts are required, as it is crucial to ensure that only authorized individuals can access email accounts that include PHI.
If you want to use email to share ePHI externally – outside the protection of your firewall – you will need to make your email HIPAA-compliant.
There are a number of email service providers that offer an encrypted email service, but not all are HIPAA compliant and include all of the necessary safeguards to meet the requirements of the HIPAA Privacy and Security Rules. To make your email HIPAA compliant there are several things to review:
1. Make sure you have end-to-end encryption for email
Email is a quick and simple way to communicate electronically, but it is not necessarily secure. Even services that encrypt messages on the move may not have the required level of security to make them HIPAA compliant. To make your email HIPAA compliant you should make sure you have end-to-end encryption, which encrypts both messages on the move and stored messages. Access controls are used to make sure only the intended recipient and the sender can view the messages.
Some email service suppliers require individual emails to be encrypted by clicking a button or using a portal. Since it is easy to forget to switch on encryption and accidentally send an unencrypted email, it is a better option to encrypt all emails, not only those that contain ePHI. This will bring down the potential for human error.
The type of encryption used is also significant. While previously Data Encryption Standard (DES) was considered safe, that is no longer the case. You should speak with NIST for advice on suitable encryption standards. Currently AES 128, 192, or 256-bit encryption is advisable.
For many HIPAA-covered groups, especially smaller healthcare suppliers that do not have in-house IT staff to ensure their email is HIPAA-compliant, the use of a third-party HIPAA compliant email service provider is strongly advised.
2. Complete a HIPAA-compliant business associate agreement with your email supplier
If you use a third-party email supplier, you should obtain a business associate agreement before using the service for sending ePHI. The business associate agreement outlines the responsibilities of the service provider and establishes that administrative, physical, and technical security measures will be used to ensure the confidentiality, integrity and availability of ePHI.
If an email service supplier is not prepared to enter into a business associate agreement, you should look somewhere else. There are many email service providers who are prepared to sign a BAA to allow them to work with HIPAA-covered entities and their business associates.
3. Make sure your email is configured properly
Even when a BAA is completed, there are still risks associated with email and it is possible to fail to set up the email service properly and breach HIPAA Rules. Simply using an email service that is covered by a BAA does not mean your email is HIPAA compliant.
Google's G Suite comes with email and is covered by its business associate agreement. Though G Suite, email can be made HIPAA compliant supplied the service is used alongside a business domain. Even if you want to implement G Suite, care must be taken setting up the service to ensure end-to-end encryption is in place.
Note that G Suite is not identical as Gmail. Gmail is not designed for business use and cannot be made HIPAA compliant. Google does not complete a BAA for its free services, only for its paid services.
4. Develop policies on the use of email and train your employees
Once you have put in place your HIPAA compliant email service it is important to show staff how to properly use email with respect to ePHI. There have been a number of data breaches that have occurred as a result of mistakes made by healthcare staff – The accidental sharing of ePHI via unencrypted email and the sharing of ePHI to individuals unauthorized to view the data. It is crucial to ensure that all staff are aware of their responsibilities under HIPAA and are shown how to use the email platform.
5. Make Ensure all emails are retained
HIPAA Rules on email retention are a little confusing as email retention is not specifically referred to in HIPAA legislation. Since people can demand information on sharing protected health information, and email communications may have to be handed over when legal action is taken against a healthcare group, covered entities should keep an email archive or at least ensure emails are backed up and stored. State legislation may also require emails to be stored for a fixed duration of time. You should therefore look over the laws relating to email in the states in which your organization works. If in doubt, seek legal counsel.
The retention period for security related emails and emails relating to changes in privacy policies is six years and HIPAA requires covered entities to keep documentation related to their compliance efforts for a period of six years.
Even for small to medium-sized healthcare groups, saving 6 years of emails, including attachments, requires massive storage space. Consider using a secure, encrypted email archiving service instead of email backups. Not only will this free up storage space, since an email archive is indexed, searching for emails in an archive is a quick and simple process. If emails need to be handed over for legal discovery or for a compliance audit, they can be quickly and easily rescued.
As with an email service supplier, any provider of an email archiving service will also be subject to HIPAA Rules as they will be classified as a business associate. A BAA would need to be completed with that service provider and reasonable assurances obtained that they will comply with HIPAA Rules.
6. Receive consent from patients before communicating with them through email
HIPAA-covered entities should note that while it may be easy to send emails containing ePHI to patients, consent to use email as a communication medium must be obtained from the patient in writing before any ePHI is sent using email, even if a HIPAA compliant email provider is implemented. Patients must be advised that there are dangers to the confidentiality of information sent via email. If they are ready to accept the risks, emails including ePHI can be sent without breaching HIPAA Rules.
7. Seek legal counsel on HIPAA compliance and email
If you are not sure of the requirements of HIPAA with respect to email, it is strongly advised that you speak with a healthcare lawyer that specializes in HIPAA to advise you of your responsibilities and the requirements of HIPAA in relation to email.