"January is here, with eyes that keenly glow, a
frost-mailed warrior striding a shadowy steed of snow." - Edgar Fawcett
I’m sitting at my desk, laughing at myself for waxing poetic
over the misty view out my window. I thought you’d like to know the author at
this moment as she realizes the fleeting beauty of today should be embraced,
not squandered with longing for what won’t come until tomorrow.
It’s been a long, dreary January here in scenic western Maryland
While the world outside dreams of spring and prepares to
repaint itself in glorious greens, I dream inside. Old stories are complete, or
nearly so, and new ideas push their way into my consciousness. I take time to
clean out old files and set up new. I look back at what I accomplished, and
forward to what remains to be done. Like spring, I bide my time for the proper
moments.
I’ve been writing for a full ten years and it’s been a
decade to celebrate. I get just as excited about a new release now as I did
with my first. Of course, it doesn’t scare me the way it used to which is a
good thing. I know what to expect, what needs done, and what traps to avoid so
I can quickly get back to the next story. It’s a familiar cycle, one I never
get bored with.
Desert Snow is my most recent release. If you follow along
at my personal blog, you already know it has nothing to do with winter or the
white stuff that falls from the sky. The setting for the story is the Palm
Springs White Party. The story had a different working title but then I wrote a
line that changed my mind. Palm Springs
Contemporary gay romance
by KC Kendricks
Laird Bennett accepts a friend’s invitation for a vacation
with his eyes wide open. His buddy is pimping for him - in a sneaky sort of
way. Why else set up his business meeting in Palm Springs
Haydn Rinehart is at a crossroads. His pilgrimage to the
White Party is to keep a promise before moving into the next phase of his life.
Haydn strikes up a conversation with an attractive party-goer while waiting for
a traffic light to change and invites him for a drink. When he discovers Laird
is one of his favorite authors, Haydn volunteers to assist in some hands-on
research in his hotel room.
After all, they are at the White Party and some fun is in
order.
EXCERPT
“Haydn is a good German name for a man of German descent.”
I looked at the Celtic emblem on his neck cord. It was possible
he wore it not as a symbol of his heritage, but because he simply liked the
design.
“Actually, Haydn could also be of Welsh origin.” I didn’t
add it meant “fire” in the Welsh and suited him to a tee. One should never
appear over educated to a new acquaintance.
“So are you into genealogy and stuff?” His whiskey-brown
eyes held genuine interest. Darn, he had pretty eyes, so clear with a dark
outer ring around the iris.
“When I was a lad, back in the hills of West
Virginia
“No kidding? For real, man?”
“Yep. It led to my writing career.”
I managed to refrain from grinning at him as he blinked at
me, his lips slightly parted. He jerked and gulped down a few swallows of his
beer, which had unfortunate consequences. He choked. I thumped his back as he
coughed.
“Sorry.” He wheezed a few times in my general direction.
“I’m such an ass.”
I gave him one last pat between the shoulder blades and
reached for my drink. I wanted to touch him far too badly to allow it to
continue. I wasn’t here to get laid.
“You’re going to have to explain that statement. Why does
choking on your beer make you an ass?”
He cleared his throat and risked a sip from the bottle.
“I’ve never met a writer before. Are you here to make notes for in a book or
something?
I sighed. “Haydn, the whole world is fodder for an author.
Everything we see, hear and learn ends up on the page sooner or later.” I
smiled at him. “I write true crime novels as a profession, and erotic gay
romance as a hobby.”
Those lovely brown orbs fixed me with a ruttish stare. “Then
may I volunteer my services as a research assistant for your hobby?”
KC Kendricks
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