Tuesday Teaser Trifecta! – Whitley Gray, Karenna Colcroft, and Rhys Ford

Fans of Teaser Tuesdays know what’s going to happen here:

I’ll post a snippet from one of each of these three authors’ books with the character names asterisked out.

Your mission is to guess which of their books the excerpt comes from! Email your answer to me,  zamaxfield (at) zamaxfield DOT com. Please be sure to put “Teaser Tuesday” in the subject line! I’ll draw a random winner each week. Winner gets an ebook. It’s that simple! Come play along…


Once upon a misspent youth, Whitley read and wrote stories under the covers at night. At some point, real life intervened, bringing with it a career in the medical field. After years of technical writing, Whitley took on the challenge writing romance. Inventing characters and putting them in interesting situations turned out to be addictive, and having two heroes is twice as nice. A pot of coffee and a storyline featuring a couple of guys makes for a perfect day. Stop by www.whitleygray.com and feed your fix for heat between the sheets and M/M romance.

Here’s the snippet!

Huh. An interesting basket that looked like a wicker cigar box: oblong with a hinged top. The lid had an illustration of a winking, bowing white rabbit in parti-color hose and colorful red, green, and blue paisley smock. The picture looked vaguely familiar. He released the catch and hesitated. What if it was something bad? Everything else today had been one insult after another. He locked gazes with the rabbit.

“You have something bad planned, Mr. Hare?”

The rabbit seemed to wink at him. He dropped the box, and it landed on the bed with a soft plop. Holy shit. He’d started to hallucinate. After rubbing his eyes with thumb and forefinger, he checked again. The rabbit didn’t move for the count of ten. Okay. Rolling his shoulders, **** flipped open the lid.

On top was a card hand-addressed with his name. He lifted it out, checked the back. Blank. Beneath the card was a trio of foil-wrapped chocolate rabbits nestled in spring-green velvet. The design on the foil made the chocolate rabbits’ outfits resemble that of the one on the top of the box. Judging by the “fur” colors, **** had received one each of white, dark, and milk chocolate.

Clothed rabbits… A shiver went down his spine, and he swallowed. These weren’t just any chocolate rabbits. These were White Rabbit Chocolate Company rabbits, made in his hometown of Crooked Creek, Colorado.

Or formerly made. The factory had closed over a decade ago. Had **** sent these?

**** closed his eyes and inhaled. This was definitely fresh chocolate, and the expensive kind. A complex aroma, with cocoa and spices combined with fruit and nuts, as if an artist had taken unlikely ingredients and assembled them into something fabulous and unexpected.

The White Rabbit chocolates **** remembered from childhood had been excellent, but not anything like this, not smelling of heaven and exotic locations. Had someone reopened the factory?

Licking his lips, he selected the white-chocolate rabbit. Taking care not to rip the foil, he unwrapped it, held it under his nose like a good cigar, and took a sniff. Satiny white chocolate with hints of honey, hazelnut, and…ginger? He took a bite and let it melt on his tongue.

Definitely ginger–a subtle kick that made him warm all over. Visions of Crooked Creek filled his mind: the festive look of the old brick storefronts downtown lit up by dozens of tiny lights, the pleasure of lounging around the pool with *******, the joy of hiking through the woods.

Funny how the chocolate triggered those thoughts; **** hadn’t thought about ******* in a long time. He took another nibble, and the sweet, low note of hazelnut came through. He and ****** had had some good times. And ***. Lying on the grass with *** on a summer night, gazing up at a million stars…

“Tell me something no one else knows about you,” *** whispered.

**** stared up at the October night sky. The stars were scattered like backlit diamonds on dark velvet. “Like what?”

“Your deepest, darkest secret.” *** cuddled a little closer, and **** pulled the blanket up around them.

There was no way **** could reveal the worst secret, not even to ***. **** couldn’t wrap his mind around the fear, let alone confess it. Instead he tilted his head and kissed *** full on the mouth. As usual, *** tasted like peppermint gum and dark chocolate. “You,” **** whispered. “You’re my secret.”

*** broke the kiss with a snort. “******* knows.”

“Not everything.”

“He can guess.”

**** claimed ***’s mouth and shifted half on top of him, silencing him.

There had never been anyone else like ***.


4-8 Tuesday Teaser - Karenna Colcroft - PhotoKarenna Colcroft is a survivor whose books try to encourage other survivors to believe they deserve and can find love and healthy relationships if they dare to open their hearts. She does not compartmentalize love into gender or number, and her stories show that no matter how afraid or reluctant someone might be, and no matter how much work it takes to build a relationship, finding someone to share a life with is worth the effort. Karenna lives in the northeastern United States with her two children, her real-life romance hero husband, and three cats, one of whom does a great parrot impersonation. Find out more about her on her website, http://www.karennacolcroft.com, or like her Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/karennacolcroftauthor

Here’s the snippet:

I followed his command and opened my eyes. With a face-splitting grin, he pulled the neck of my shirt open and sprayed a stream of whipped topping down over my skin. “There, is that better?”

“Asshole!” I couldn’t help laughing. I yanked off my shirt and surveyed the damage. Topping streaked my chest, dotting my nipples. “You’d better clean this off, ******.”

“Yeah? And how would you like me to do that, ****?” He turned my name into a low growl. In his eyes, I saw something wild. Not wolf. Something more primal than that.

Before I could squelch the impulse, I replied, “Lick it off.”

He ran his tongue over his lips. Orange flame kindled in his gaze and he bent and licked a line across my chest from one nipple to the other. I shuddered and clutched the counter behind me to keep from being knocked over by the rush of arousal coursing through me. My dick hardened to the point of pain and I let out a low moan.

“Does that feel as good as you taste?” He sucked my nipple between his lips and clamped down lightly with his teeth.

“Fuck, yeah,” I gasped. “******—” I stopped, not knowing whether to beg him to stop or to keep going, to bring us both past the point where anything mattered other than the physical. The point where we could forget about everything and just rip off our clothes and fuck.

I was pretty much already there.

“You’re not clean yet.” He swirled his tongue over my skin. “I think I like this even better than fresh strawberries.”

“******!” I closed my eyes and let my body take over. The point of contact between his tongue and my chest grew to a bonfire that spread through me. My cock strained against the front of my jeans, wanting release in every sense of the word.

And he didn’t stop. Making soft sounds of pleasure, low grunts bordering on growls, he licked every spot of topping from me. I tensed and thought frantically of baseball and my former next-door neighbor’s hugely ugly housedresses to keep the explosion of my climax at bay.

Finally, he looked up with a satisfied smirk. “All clean.”

“Fuck.” I leaned against the counter, breathing heavily.

He laughed, a rich sound rolling over me like warm water. Without speaking, he unfastened his button-fly jeans and shoved them to the floor. His long cock sprang up against his abdomen with the force of its release, a droplet at its tip.

He picked up the spray can and squirted a ring around his dick. “Banana split? You did say you like topping.”

I cracked up. “You are a dork, you know that?”

“Yeah.” His tone turned serious. “Your dork.”

“My mate.” I dropped to my knees. “I’m going to lick you clean,” I said hoarsely.

“Good.” His fingers twined through my hair. “And then?”

“And then.” I licked up his shaft from the base to the tip and enjoyed the power surge from hearing his soft moan. “And then, we’ll fuck.”


4-15 Tuesday Teaser - Rhys Ford - PhotoRhys  admits to sharing the house with three cats of varying degrees of black fur, a black Pomeranian puffball and a ginger cairn terrorist. Rhys is also enslaved to the upkeep a 1979 Pontiac Firebird, a Toshiba laptop, and an overworked coffee maker.

You can find her on her blog, Facebook, Twitter, and at the Starbucks down the street. No really, they’re 24/7. And a drive-thru. It’s like heaven.

Her books can be purchased, folded, and first chapters read at Dreamspinner Press.

Here’s the snippet:

If I’d met a bookie in between the Rover and the building where the shots had come from, I’d have won millions. Although if the bookie knew anything about me, he wouldn’t have taken such a sucker bet.

Because the universe fucking hated me.

The building I’d stormed was one of the multitude of old brick structures someone thought would be cool to build on the crest above the downtown area. They were thin, dark red, and would have looked more at home in Whitechapel than Southern California, but they made for cheap, sardine-can-like housing in an area that crammed more people into every square foot than candy in a kid’s mouth the day after Halloween.

Oddly enough, despite being one of the more heavily populated areas in LA, the courtyard I’d run into only boasted two people, a distraught older Hispanic female and a quite deceased young Vietnamese woman.

And something told me she had something to do with the woman I’d been coming to see.

The seven-story U-shaped building blocked out nearly all of the sunlight except for what little could make it past the thick iron overhang of the roof’s edges. Poorly maintained, whatever patches of lawn there might have been in the building’s heyday had succumbed to California’s brutal sun. Now scorched weeds cluttered what little shade reached the corners of the walk-around, their brown leaves covered with a thin fine grit from the surrounding arid dirt patch.

She’d been killed only moments before, but the dun-colored dirt was already coating the Vietnamese woman’s exposed skin and clothes.

She was also a guy.

There were small signs. Her hands were larger and blunter than a woman’s, and the slight ridge of an Adam’s apple stuck out of her slender neck. The tight tank top she wore was filled with perfectly shaped breasts, larger than her slender frame could support. They slid down under her skin, flaccid packets of silicon bulging up above her rib cage.

Her legs were stick thin, barely muscled, and brown under the fluttery skirt she wore. It was too short to be called decent, and as she’d fallen, the hem had flapped up to expose her underwear, a girly, sweet pair of briefs made of pink cotton and lime-green ribbon polka dots. It was vulgar to leave her there, splayed open and on display, but touching or covering a dead body was not something that would endear me to the cops.

Still, she deserved better than what she got.

One thing was for certain, she wasn’t **** ****, and it was my greatest hope, whoever she’d been, she hadn’t felt the pop of the bullet that ended her life.

I slid my Glock into its holster at my back and flipped my shirttail over its grip to avoid notice. Touching the Latina startled her, and she screeched, throwing her hands up to batter my shoulders. I caught her up into my arms, consoling her with what little Spanish I knew, but she was splattered with blood, and her tears ran pink rivulets down the too-large Dodgers shirt she wore over a bright blue peasant dress. I didn’t know if she was grieving because she actually knew the girl or if the shock of finding a dead woman on the sidewalk did her in.

****** showed up with the police moments later, and I handed off the woman to a kind-faced female cop with the darkest liquid brown eyes I’d ever seen. Within seconds, the walk-around area was full of blue uniforms and the chatter of walkie-talkies, staccato bursts of conversations breaking through the general murmur of a gathering crowd and officers asking people to step back.

“Shit, her… head.” My brother gulped air like he was drowning, and his cheeks turned ashen as I watched.

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Sunday Brunch Blog – 4/13/14


Last time we did a sunday brunch it we gave some thought to Rocky and Bullwinkle,

“Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of this hat.”



“Musta got the wrong hat!”

We had only one commenter last week, so Trix, you’re my winner! Thanks for stopping by and being another Jay Ward fan. These kids don’t know what they’re missing!

***BIG NEWS*** From now on, instead of the ebooks we’ve been awarding as prizes, I’ll be giving out a $5.00 Amazon gift card so readers can use it for the ebook (or other Amazon purchase) of their choice.

Comment to win, and choose your own prize!

This week, get out your snow cone bras, it’s time to decide whether you’re On The Borderline, you feel Like a Virgin, or you’re ready to Vogue!

Welcome this week’s guest author Lane Hayes! And BTW, Lane, Dolphin shorts STILL make me laugh. I was once flashed on a bridge in Paris by a jogger wearing Dolphin Shorts…

This week’s question is: “Which Madonna incarnation do you most identify with, and why?”

4-13 Sunday Brunch - Lane Hayes - Cover

Madonna is an icon.  She’s a media savvy superstar people tend to love or hate.  Possibly one of the best things about her is her almost arrogant nonchalance.  She is who she is and if you don’t like her, that’s your problem.  Not hers.  Who doesn’t wish they had that kind of carefree panache while wearing a cone-shaped corset, fishnets, a garter belt and not much else? Sign me up!

Or maybe not.  I don’t think the world is ready for that look on me.  Maybe it never was.  There are so many other incarnations to choose from though.  The 1930s Hollywood sex kitten phase or maybe Blond Ambition when she wore her hair in an impossibly high and tight ponytail (oh yeah, and that cone bra)?  How about the cowgirl look from Music or even Evita?

My personal favorite Madonna incarnation is her Like A Virgin/Material Girl phase circa 1984-85.  I love it for many reasons but the biggest is probably because I was a teenager who had a sexy fun new idol to look up to.  One who could wear a tulle wedding skirt with laced up leather boots and a belt that claimed she was a Boy Toy.  It never occurred to me to consider the look trashy or trampy.  She looked edgy, cool and downright fierce.  There was no mistaking her for someone’s “toy”.  She looked like she could handle anyone without assistance.

I loved the blend of messy curly hair, short tight skirts and cut off leggings (think Desperately Seeking Susan).  No one had successfully pulled off such odd combinations outside of a fashion runway before.  C’mon, some people were still rockin’ their Dolphin shorts (if you don’t know what those are, look them up…it’s worth the laugh) and shoulder pads were a must!  Madonna was among the first to deconstruct fashion so that thrift shop finds looked original and sexy as hell.  She was punk meets pop, but heavy on the pop, which gave her a cool factor and accessibility other artists didn’t have.  What about those mesh tops with her bra showing?  Good girls didn’t wear clothes like that!  And yet, somehow she didn’t come across as a bad girl either.

Madonna blurred the lines between good girl/bad girl and threw out a new idea.  Can’t you be a little bit of both?  Yes!  A million times yes.  I’m mostly good, but yes… I like some edgier things also.  Hell, I write MM contemporary romance books.  And I love reading them!  The sexier the better.  Some people don’t get that and never will.  But I think Madonna would concur… that would be their problem.

Hmm.  Maybe I have learned something from the Queen of Pop after all.

Buy Links for Better Than Chance

Dreamspinner Press | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

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No Brunch Today… Iz sad.

Juggling Venus

So sorry, due to some slight technical difficulties, I don’t have brunch guests today. Which mostly means I’ve been incommunicado working toward my deadlines and I haven’t been paying attention.

Last weeks brunch winners will be announced next week. There’s still time to comment if you want to!

I got a great cover for Home The Hard Way. I’m sure I shared it here, but in case I didn’t, prepare to sigh with longing!


Isn’t that GORGEOUS??? I love that. It’s from cover artist Amber Shah and I can tell you how deftly she nailed the book. LOVE this. Get ready for Finn and Dare:

Pre-rder Home The Hard Way

I do have some fun news. First off, I got the rights to two of my holiday stories, Secret Light, and What Child Is This?, way back in December… I know I should have just put those back out, but I needed beautiful covers and some formatting. At first I was going to wait until the holiday season again, but then a couple of readers wrote to ask me what happened to those, so I put them back out again.

For a limited time, they’ll be available exclusively at Amazon. This means that I’ve entered into the devil’s bargain that is Kindle Select, which has some royalty benefits for me and some benefits for Amazon Prime members, who will be able to read them for free. Both books are in the lending library there so please take advantage of that. If you were on the fence about those, borrow them for free and see what you were missing!


Rafe Colman’s likes his life. He has a nice home, a good job, and a wonderful dog. But he’s exhausted by living a lie. When his home is vandalized because of his perceived German ancestry, he can’t even share the irony with friends.

Officer Ben Morgan falls for Rafe’s dog first, but it isn’t long before he’s giving her owner the eye. He thinks they have more in common than the search for Rafe’s vandals, and he’s willing to take a chance and find out.

If life in 1955 is tough on a cop in the closet, it’s even tougher on a refugee who’s desperate to hide his roots and fit in. Rafe knows from tragic experience how vicious prejudice can be. Every second with Ben is stolen, every kiss fraught with danger.

When Ben’s partner threatens to ruin everything, Rafe and Ben have to fight to protect what they have, in Secret Light

Read More

Secret Light

WhatChildIsThis_200Michael and Tristan are finally taking that much needed weekend away for Christmas. They’ve been working so hard at their respective careers there hasn’t been time for a breather, much less a chance to reconnect and see if they’ve been working toward what they both want.

Like always, Michael’s well-laid plan is derailed by a phone call from Apple House. Three of their charges have gone missing and while Michael is worried, it’s not unusual for the young adults who stay at the shelter for homeless LGBT teens to come and go.

But when one of them calls Michael and asks if – hypothetically speaking – it’s considered kidnapping to keep a baby who’s been abandoned, Michael and Tristan head home with all speed to sort things out.

Two couples need answers in a heartwarming holiday tale of taking stock, reaffirming commitments, and catching the perfect wave in What Child Is This? A Crossing Borders Christmas Story.

Read More

What Child Is This?


Posted in about me, Books, Breaking News!, Secret Light, What Child Is This? | Leave a comment

Sunday Brunch Blog – 3/30/14

saupload_mad_20hatter_20tea_20partyAre you KIDDING ME??? It’s the end of March already?

No. Where does the time go?

My two University of California students had Spring Break last week, so for a week I had a houseful of delightful young adults, both men and women. My daughter is home from school, and all the young ladies are now twenty-one, something that makes my knees weak, considering they went out bar-hopping last night, where once they curled up in Little Mermaid sleeping bags for sleepovers. Sighs.

My Very Own Child, who tops out at about five feet, texted she had two Fireballs and an Adios Motherf*cker, the very same drink my husband ordered the night we met. How did she even manage to stay in a chair?


Last weeks question about Rocky Horror, got some very fun responses. Didn’t we all want to be someone in that Tacky Flick?

The winner of last week’s Sunday Brunch prize was GK Parker!!!

This weeks Question: Which Rocky and Bullwinkle Character are you? garnered far fewer takers. Why? I wonder. Are my writer pals simply too young to have enjoyed R&B for what it was? Fun and funny and silly and even — at times — wise?

Rocky and His Friends was a variety show cartoon which included Rocky and Bullwinkle, Dudley Do-right, Peabody’s Improbably History, and my fave… Fractured Fairy tales. And yes, I always wanted to be the little old fairy at the beginning whose wand explodes into fireworks before she gets squished into a book.

Okay, so… You know the drill, comment to win ebooks from our authors!

Let me know if you liked Rocky and Bullwinkle. Did you get tired of poor Nell getting tied to the tracks? Did you ever hope Dudley would get a clue and FINALLY ask Nell for her hand in marriage? Did you want to go in the Way Back Machine with Mr. Peabody and Sherman?

I did. And so did my guest, Cynnara Tregarth!

3-16 Sunday Brunch - Cynnara Tregarth - Cover

I am a cartoon fanatic. I love cartoons. This one is still my favourite— I love watching them whenever I can. Though my heritage is mixed, and does include the nefarious Boris and Natasha… I’ve always been linked more to Mr. Peabody and Sherman. *sighs* The question is– am I the one who gets patted on the head… or the genius in fur? This is the question often asked by those who know me best. I’m not telling. :D What is funny, my male knows these characters– in fact, we often talk about the Fractured Fairytales and how we enjoy them and Commander McBragg (he says I should write a story about a guy like him– revisionist history).

Yet when it all comes down to it– let’s be honest– we all wanna be Rocky, the Flying Squirrel. Who wouldn’t? *breaks out the aviator glasses and jacket* I’m ready, Bullwinkle!

Buy Links for Treaty of Desire:





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Teaser Tuesday – with Author J.P. Barnaby!

_JPBarnaby_authorImageAward winning romance novelist, J. P. Barnaby has penned over a dozen books including the Working Boys series, the Little Boy Lost series, In the Absence of Monsters, and Aaron. As a bisexual woman, J.P. is a proud member of the GLBT community both online and in her small town on the outskirts of Chicago. A member of Mensa, she is described as brilliant but troubled, sweet but introverted, and talented but deviant. She spends her days writing software and her nights writing erotica, which is, of course, far more interesting. The spare time that she carves out between her career and her novels is spent reading about the concept of love, which, like some of her characters, she has never quite figured out for herself.

Website   Twitter   Facebook

Fans of Teaser Tuesdays know what’s going to happen here:

I’ll post a snippet from one of J.P Barnaby’s books with the character names asterisked out.

Your mission is to guess which of J.P.’s books the excerpt comes from! Email your answer to me,  zamaxfield (at) zamaxfield DOT com. Please be sure to put “Teaser Tuesday” in the subject line! I’ll draw a random winner each week. Winner gets an ebook. It’s that simple! Come play along…

HERE’s the snippet:

“Do you know what one of the best parts of sex is?” I asked him as I traced his lips with a finger. He looked at me, waiting. “Anticipation.” Leaning in, I let my lips just touch his chin, our breath mingling with no space between us. “I want you desperate and begging for me.” He surged forward, covering my lips with his, and moaned into my mouth before he pulled away.

“Too fucking late,” he said, with an implied ‘I’m already desperate’ almost too quietly for me to hear.

“I promise, it will be worth it,” I told him as I took his hand in mine and pulled him off the couch. It didn’t take much effort because he and I were about evenly matched in the size department. He might have had an inch and maybe twenty pounds on me, but we both had dancer builds—slender, wiry, and compact.

“Where are we going?” he asked, looking hopeful when we had to go toward the bedroom on the way to the front door.


“But I’ve already… I…” **** stammered, but seemed completely unable to finish the sentence, so I took pity and helped him out. After all, I wanted him to feel comfortable. It was all part of the service—and I have excellent customer service skills.


He nodded, his face passing pink all together and teetering right on the edge of red.

“Me, too. We can have salads, but I have to know how someone who seems to have more money than God and the looks to match can be so shy,” I said and did the slap tag to make sure I had my wallet and phone. **** did the same, smiling to himself, and when he passed to go out the hotel room door, I checked out his ass.

God damn, I love my job.



Posted in author friends, drawings, Teaser Tuesdays | 1 Comment

Sunday Brunch Blog – March 23, 2014

saupload_mad_20hatter_20tea_20partyHelloooooo Sunday Brunchers! Today is an amazing day. I am driving up the coast to pick up my daughter, NOT just for spring break, but because she has completed all the course requirements to earn a degree in Literature from the University of California at Santa Cruz! Go Banana Slugs!

You might say, wow! It seems like only a scant two years and two quarters ago that ZAM was taking her up there for the very first time, and to this I say, YES! She has completed her degree in that brief period of time!

No five year plan for my baby smurf… Congratulations Graduate!

For once, I’m setting this up in advance and I won’t be firmly back at the controls until next Tuesday sometime. Cross your fingers, I hope it works.

Last Week’s question was about making alcohol, and I’m sad to say, no one sent me a recipe for Bloody Mary Mix… (except Alton Brown, by way of Food Network Magazine.)

But we did have a couple comments on the post, and the winner of last weeks’ Sunday Brunch Prize is… Neene!

This week’s question is one that is near and dear to me, since I met my husband on Halloween, at a special screening of Rocky Horror and Shock Treatment.

You know the drill. Comment with your answer for the opportunity to win ebooks from these authors! Today’s question is:

Which Rocky Horror Character Are YOU??? 

3-23 Sunday Brunch - Karenna Colcroft - Cover

The first time I ever saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show, I was seventeen, and my dad had found the video for rent in a dark little shop in the Old Port section of Portland, Maine. The video included Japanese subtitles; someone had smuggled it into the country. This was in 1987, and Rocky Horror wasn’t licensed for U.S. video distribution at that point.


Although watching that movie with my dad was excruciatingly awkward, something about it captured my attention. Especially Columbia. Maybe it was her voice; maybe her song. Maybe it was the fact that she got a bit down and dirty with Meat Loaf (before he, as Eddie, showed up to dinner…) But I wanted to BE Columbia. Snappy, sassy, confident, and free.


I never actually got there. I’m sassy and snappy, and sometimes confident, but I’m also married with kids. Nor did I ever have a chance to participate in a theater showing of Rocky Horror. About the closest I ever got to being any Rocky Horror character was singing “Over at the Frankenstein Place” to my older daughter as a lullaby when she was a baby. (Hey, my dad used to sing me Pink Floyd songs as lullabies… weird lullaby choices run in the family!) — Author Karenna Colcroft


Purchase  I Should Tell You:  Loose Id   Amazon


3-23 Sunday Brunch - Qwilla Rain - Cover

I’m Janet. See, I look mild mannered and sweet. I even sound that way for the most part. I like people and I try not to get myself into situations that might prove dangerous or compromising. Even better, I have this innate ability to see the real man beneath three piece suit and glasses (or the corset, garter belt, and stockings). Brad has oh so much potential, it will only take a little … teasing to bring it out of him.

Getting caught in the rain storm was an opportunity to discover things about myself and Brad that would have otherwise remained hidden from both of us. Dr. Frank-N-Furter and Rocky provided the perfect … inspiration to help unlock the real person inside. Once free of the fetters of the “normal” world, I was able to see just how much fun is available for those who like to take a walk on the wild side. Who like to color outside the lines. Who enjoy the feel of leather, lace, and steel caressing their skin.

Following rules is all well and good. It keeps me safe. Shows the respect and trust I have in the one making the rules…as long as that respect and trust have been earned. Still, I do enjoy acting out on occasion. Going against the status quo, especially when I need to make sure certain people are paying attention. If I have to top from the bottom sometimes, or even take over the driver’s seat, I’m not afraid to go there. But it’s always fun to watch the surprised expressions on peoples’ faces when they realize mild-mannered doesn’t equate to doormat, nor does it keep me from living life to the fullest. And living it my way.

Thanks for letting me hang out this Sunday.

Have a great night. — Author Qwillia Rain

Purchase Revealed: A Poker Posse Story  Loose Id   Amazon


3-23 Sunday Brunch - Whitley Gray - Cover

I first saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Landmark Esquire Theater in Denver. It was quite an experience, done up the traditional way: squirt guns, newspaper, rice, and toast. If you don’t know what I mean, get thee to a vintage theater and see it for yourself.

It was a long time before I viewed the movie again—real life and all that rot. The last time I met up with Rocky was via DVD in my living room at Christmas. Not nearly the show as at a theater.

My favorite character is Dr. Frank-n-Furter—he’s larger than life—but I’m not brave enough to be him. Besides, it takes a lot to pull off that corset and pearls…

I’d be one of the Transylvanian dancers. Sporting a classic tux, a brightly-colored hat, and sunglasses, they’re all the same, yet all different. They get to join the party while staying in the background. Is there anyone who doesn’t like the Time Warp? The song is addictive—gets stuck in your head and takes over your neurons. Next thing you know you’re taking a jump to the left and a step to the right, and whoa, the pelvic thrust. How can a romance writer not go for this?

The main drawback of the character is getting caught between Frank and Rocky in the lab. Still the hassle would be worth it for the close-up view.

Oh, and when you go to see Rocky at the theater, don’t forget the newspaper. You’ll thank me later. — Author Whitley Gray

Purchase Rabbit Wars:  Loose Id   Amazon



Posted in author friends, Blog, Contests, Sunday Brunch Blog | 9 Comments

Friday is Casual S*x Day!

MyPictureA long time ago, when my profile picture looked like this, I started a little Friday Column called Friday is Casual S*x Day! 

Not because I was having casual sex on Fridays or anything, but since I was such a shy thing, I thought a provocative title would loosen me up a little. Get my creative juices flowing. Now that I’ve got a whole bunch of published books on the table, red hair, and creative juices to burn, I hardly recognize that woman hiding behind her hands.

I used that picture a my profile picture because my kids were still in elementary school and I was hiding the fact that I write  sexually explicit romance novels. Of course, I excitedly informed everyone that their I’d gotten a contract for my first book, which led to the principal of my kids’ school offering me the opportunity to hold an author night! Yowch! Considering my first book was Crossing Borders, and Sparky and Officer Helmet were hitting the sheets, the kitchen counter, the tub, the walls, the floors, and the rug in front of the fire with a rather alarming enthusiasm, I politely declined without explanation.

cropped-ZAMIam-rainbow1.pngEven that few years ago, the world was a vastly different place. Now, Z.A. Maxfield — ZAM — is the real me, and that other person, the one before Z.A. Maxfield busted out of her shell, is simply the caterpillar to my butterfly. Maybe I’ll bust out as something else entirely new again in a few years. You never know. Life is funny that way. But for now, I suggest we all just look around and see how far we’ve come, instead of how far we have to go, just for a second, and enjoy the moment.

Everybody Dance!

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Happy Thursday!


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Cover Reveal (I’m late to the blitz!)

Wolf in Gucci Loafers 
(Tales of the Harker Pack #2)
by Tara Lain
Socialite Lindsey Vanessen wants someone to love who will love him back — an impossibility for a gay, half-human, half-werewolf. Too aggressive for humans, too gay for wolves, and needing to protect the pack from human discovery, Lindsey tries to content himself with life as a successful businessman. But when someone starts kidnapping members of wealthy families, Lindsey meets tough cop Seth Zakowsy—the hunky embodiment of everything Lindsey wants but can’t have.
Seth has never been attracted to flamboyant men. What would the guys in the department think of Lindsey? But intrigue turns to lust when he discovers Lindsey’s biting, snarling passion more than matches his dominant side. It might mean a chance at love for a cop in black leather and a wolf in Gucci loafers.
Release Date:
April 16, 2014
Available for Pre-Order on 
March 17, 2014
what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sir. I’m doing well.”
“Come talk to me.” His grandfather turned
and walked into the living room.
Did he want to talk? He’d have to be careful,
but yes. Pop-Pop was a smart man. He walked down the stairs and into the large,
comfortable room. His grandfather sat on a love seat at one end of the room, so
he took the identical seat across from him. He leaned back and crossed his legs.
Look relaxed.
Pop-Pop sat forward. “Romantic troubles?”
The old man had a way of diving to the truth. “Not exactly.”
“I heard you had a date with the Westerberg
son. Your mother’s doing, I believe.” The old man could have been talking about
a date with a girl, he was so comfortable with it.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you like him?”
“Well enough.”
“Ah, so he’s not the issue.”
Lindsey grinned. His grandfather was enjoying
the guessing game.
“So if it’s not exactly romantic troubles,
what exactly is it?”
“I guess you could call it unrequited romantic
He rubbed his hands together. “Now this is
I’ve seen you with many men over the years since you returned from
school, but none of them lasted more than a few dates, and none of them ever sparked
what I would call romantic interest. How odd that you should affix your affection
on one who 
doesn’t care about you. Have you considered it might be a form of self-protection?
Only wanting the ones you can’t have has a way of keeping you single.”
Lindsey grinned. “I guess that’s possible
sometimes, but not in this case. He’s just highly inappropriate. A tough cop I met
while helping Dave with the kidnapping issue. Dave asked if I would take him to
the polo match to give him a chance to investigate among people we know without
being too obvious. So I did it.” Lindsey shrugged.
“And got caught in your own trap.”
He smiled, but it hurt around the edges.
“Yes, I guess. I found him attractive from the start but assumed he was straight,
so it was just a harmless flirtation. After the match, I found out he’s gay, so
that made the vast expanse between us more real.”
Pop-Pop frowned. “It’s not like you to discriminate
based on class.”
“Nothing like that, sir. He’s the one discriminating,
I’m sure. I’m simply not at all his type. A bit too lavender silk for his black
leather, shall we say.”
His grandfather steepled his fingers and
stared over them. “You’re not just one thing, Lindsey. 
I’ve know many men in my
life and you’re one of the very best. Smart, decisive, action-oriented, kind, and
basically good. Unlike your father, I might add. You need a man who sees that. But 
you’ve got good judgment, so if you think this cop is romance-worthy, then my bet
is there’s something there worth pursuing. Ride him down, son!” He laughed that
big robust sound that had comforted Lindsey since the day he was born.


About the Author
Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 23. Her best­selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soul­mate husband and her soul­mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!
You can find Tara at
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Teaser Tuesday – with author Sara York!


1656024_10201690131311355_1805766286_nWriting is Sara York’s life. The stories fight to get out, often leaving her working on four or five books at once. She can’t help but write. Along with her writing addiction she has a coffee addiction. Some nights, the only reason she stops writing and goes to sleep is for the fresh brewed coffee in the morning. Sara enjoys writing twisted tales of passion, anger, and love with a good healthy dose of lust thrown in for fun.

Visit Sara York at her Blog or Website.

 Here’s today’s snippet, see if you can guess which of Sara York’s books this teaser comes from. Email me your answer to zamaxfield at zamaxfield dot com. Please put Teaser Tuesday in the subject line! Last week’s winner: Natalija

Good Luck Sara York Fans!


Small, cute, and hot laughed and this time his smile didn’t instantly disappear. “Okay. Coffee is fine.”

“All right!” **** did a little fist pump. “There’s a Starbucks right across the street. My name is ****, by the way.”

“****,” the twink responded.

**** shook ****’s hand and loved the soft, silken texture of ****’s skin. He hoped he’d be able to see and touch other parts of the gorgeous man’s body sooner or later.

“Let’s go,” **** said as he walked out of the back, into the main area and out of the store. Every few steps he looked behind him to make sure the skitterish guy was still there. He had no idea why **** was so jumpy. This sweetie was fucking adorably hot and had to have other men after him all the time.

When they left Pleasures, **** stopped until **** was next to him before continuing to the sidewalk.

“It’s a nice day, huh?” **** asked as they waited for the light to turn.

“Yeah,” **** replied.



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