There’s something about That Guy!

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By L.C. Dean

You know the one. We’ve all met him at least once in our lives. Some are lucky enough to hold onto him. Many of us do not. He comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors. He wears jeans, a uniform, a well-tailored suit, or maybe nothing at all. He’s a country boy, a city-slicker, a hot head or steady as a rock. He is each woman’s greatest fantasy. And while he may have commonalities with his brethren, he is unique in the way he catches our eye.

My That Guy was Taylor Harris (Name changed to protect my pride). He was 17 and I was 16. Looking back, I realize he wasn’t all that handsome, nor overly tall, but the boy only had to open his mouth and my knees lost the ability to hold me up. He commanded the stage like no one our small town had ever seen before. He could act and sing, and he won state orator two years running. Now that may not sound cool to some, but for me he was a god. Unfortunately, he was too busy being awesome in high school to ever notice me, but it didn’t stop me from writing poetry to his amazingness.

One of my best friends married her That Guy. He was a lineman for a local electrical company, and the first time she saw him he was up a pole, baggy jeans pulled over his muscled backside as he worked, and I have to admit he did something for his very ordinary uniform shirt and work boots. She tells me she knew in that instant he would be the one. No one else much noticed him. He was a diamond in the rough until the world saw him through her eyes. He’s still an ordinary guy in my mind. Granted, he’s funny and considerate and about the nicest man I know, but he doesn’t make my heart do a jig. But after twenty years together, my friend still grins whenever he walks into the room. They will be eighty and he will always be That Guy.

I think finding That Guy is why I write. While I look for someone to live up to or surpass Taylor, I write about the ones who make my heroines/heroes stop and smile, or shake their heads as there is something about That Guy.

For research purposes, and because I’m always curious, I would love to hear what That Guy is/was like for you. Did you keep him? Did he break your heart? Or was he just a stranger passing on the street who made you do a double-take and wish you could be his? Thanks for dropping by and be sure to enter the rafflecopter below. 

L.C. Dean
Blog:  LCDean.blogspot.com
Twitter: LCDean
Facebook:  authorLCDean

Buy Bella Ink HERE

Blurb:

Jet Ryan’s haunted by the memory of one night in the arms of a sexy tattoo artist who pushed all the right buttons before she shoved him out of her life. No one else seems to measure up. He needs her out of his system or in his life, preferably the latter. But, he’ll settle for one more night with her or a reasonable facsimile as long as he can touch her again.

Ink Monroe avoids expectations that might get her hopes up, doesn’t believe in endless possibilities, and has absolutely no room in her life for a guy who wants to take care of her. But damn, it would be nice to have all those things for a little while. So when a customer gives her a business card for a woman named Madame Eve, she asks for a man to solidify the hazy memory of a single night of passion followed by the best night of sleep she’d had in years.

Both have tall orders for a single evening of passion, but one night can lead to endless possibilities. Madame Eve promised.

Excerpt:

“What about you, Ink? What would you ask the amazing matchmaker Madame Eve for if you could have your perfect date?”

“Never thought about it.” She had no illusion anyone even faintly resembling perfect existed.

“If you did?”

She grinned and studied the finished outline. Satisfied, she changed her tip and loaded the first color, blazing red. “I don’t know. Someone different, I guess.” A shiver ran through her at the distorted yet delicious image that often flitted through her mind. She couldn’t remember his face, or even his name, but she would never forget his strong hands on her body, the comfort of his steady heartbeat as he cradled her through the night. Sometimes his unique scent filled her head—leather, spice, and something earthy and clean teased her to find him. “I think I might have had it once, but I was exhausted, on the verge of breaking down. I can’t recall much about him except he made me feel safe, and I slept better in his arms than I’ve ever slept alone.”

Her cheeks heated and she looked down. “I can’t believe I told you all that.”

He touched her wrist and then dropped his hand back to the position she had placed it in. “Don’t worry about it.” He wiggled around, digging in his pocket until she sat back with a sigh.

“Unless you want to look like you have a permanent infection running across your chest, hold still.”

“Give me a second.” The worn wallet he clasped fell open on its own. “Here.” He handed her a business card.

She held up her gloved and ink stained hands. “What is it?”

He chuckled. “Madame Eve’s ticket to paradise.”

With a smile, she returned to her work. “Lay it on the table.”

1NS shimmered in a classy embossed symbol on the upper corner of the card. What if the man was right? What if the service could make her fantasy come true? What if Madame Eve could recreate the peace and passion of the shadowed memory? She caught back a laugh of self-disgust. What if monkeys fly out of my ass? 

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Unjustifiable Violence

A topic close to my heart this month.

By L.C. Dean

Fifteen years ago, on an October night, a young man stopped to have drink in a bar. Maybe chat with a few people. Nothing big. Just have a little fun. There he met up with two other men, both seemingly friendly, who offered (or who he asked for) a ride home. He never made it back. A cyclist found him the 

next morning, beaten but alive, tied to a fence like some macabre Halloween decoration. The only spots on his face not covered by blood were the tracks of his tears. His injuries were so severe doctors were unable to operate. Matthew Shepard lived for six more days but never regained consciousness. His attackers had pretended to be gay to get him into their vehicle in order to beat and torture him simply because he was homosexual. Protestors picketed his funeral with signs reading “No Tears for Queers.” That one horrible and unconscionable placard has stuck in my head for a decade and a half.

Matthew’s death remains the most recognizable example of hate against a gay man in the United States today. His torture and subsequent death launched the campaign for a hate crimes bill. Eleven years later, President Obama signed The Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act http://www.justice.gov/crt/about/crm/matthewshepard.php —better known as the Matthew Shepard Act—into law on October 28, 2009. (Byrd was beaten and dragged behind a pickup by known white supremacists until dead.) The Act expanded the 1969 United States federal hate-crime law to include crimes motivated by a victim's actual or perceived gender, sexual orientation, gender identity, or disability.

This legislation now makes hate driven violence, no matter the recipient, a major crime. Still, across the nation brutality continues against those perceived as different or weaker somehow. Race, gender, sexual orientation, and a plethora of other excuses pop up again and again to justify violence against individuals or groups. There are laws in place to handle such issues, but stopping it begins with the individual. We live in America where free speech declares we all have the right to speak out against things which concern us. Hate should concern everyone.

No one has to approve or support the ideas, lives, and attitudes of others. But does anyone have the right to end a life just because someone is different? Free speech gives us the right to take a stand against hate. We can say no to violence and yes to acceptance. If you hear of or see such things, be the voice of reason, call the police, take a stand…but don’t ignore it. Had someone who knew Aaron McKinney and Russell Henderson’s intentions intervened in some way, even to turn their thoughts to other things, perhaps Matthew would not have died. No human being, whether different from the majority or not, deserves to suffer this type of treatment. Martin Luther King, Jr. told us all of his dream,  and we have come a long way since then, but we have a long way to go until “all men are created equal” and are judged only by the “content of their character.” Love is love no matter what.

All my hope and friendship to readers, friends, and countrymen alike—please, remember those who have suffered or died at the hand of hate and help stop unjustifiable violence.

L.C. Dean

Matthew Shepard Foundation http://www.matthewshepard.org/

The James Byrd Foundation for Racial Healing can be reached at 888-656-6514 or by electronic mail at byrdfound@juno.com

Buy Too Hot to Handle HERE

Buy Mountain Claiming HERE

The Value of Short Stories

by L.C. Dean

I don’t know about many of you, but I remember my mother getting magazines with short romance stories or the first chapters of novels woven in amongst the practical advice and crafty ideas. Sometimes the stories filled just a few pages and other times they would be continued for a few months. Always they were readable over one or two coffee breaks. As a farmer’s wife, my mother rarely had the opportunity to just sit down and read. Many times a novel took her a month or more to finish as she would snatch ten minutes here or there. The short stories, however, provided a snippet of relaxation in the middle of her hectic life. 

As a kid, I always dreamed of writing the great romance novel – the one that readers would tuck under their bed and pull out again and again. And perhaps that dream will come to fruition one day, but for now I write shorts. Despite the reviews I and many fellow short story writers receive, which say again and again, “I wanted more,” there is a value to the short story that many overlook. As I type the end on a brief but (I hope) satisfying tale, I think of my mother and how she used to relish those little escapes provided by her women’s magazines, and I have to smile and think that perhaps I can offer that same sort of retreat to someone else.

Many women in today’s world work all day outside the home but still create a loving and healthy environment for their families. Finding time to relax can at times seem nearly impossible. Stories which can be read in twenty minutes to an hour are a positive. I have a friend who is a single mother and used to read only in the winter and only when her kids were not involved with school activities as her reading time was too often sacrificed to the needs/demands of family, job, and community. When I gave her a few 1Night Stands and a copy of Too Hot to Handle, she was thrilled. I had her read my upcoming EDGE series (Sturgis Rally Riders) as well. Although each of the four stories falls under 5,500 words, she enjoyed that she could read them over her coffee break or in the evening while waiting for a load of laundry after the kids were tucked in bed. Super shorts provide an ahhh moment that she cannot otherwise fit into her busy schedule.

So, while I do intend to write a full someday, for now I find joy in the thought that I and my publisher fill a niche – offering a bit of love, romance, or forbidden passion – in the lives of my readers. I hope you all find a moment to escape the mundane and enjoy a quickie now and again.

Blurb for Too Hot to Handle

Why the hell do I torture myself? Sitting in the sun and hiding a hard-on from his best friend is not Tucker's idea of fun. He’d rather drink beer and fantasize than destroy what he and Jase have.

A good fuck between friends, that the hell’s wrong with that? Heat and lust make a man do crazy shit, but Jase intends to prove he and Tuck can be lovers and friends.

When desire flares under the Texas summer sun, will it burn too hot to handle.

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Too Hot to Handle or Runaway Virgin. 

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Getting to Know...

L.C. Dean! 

Mountain Claiming available HERE

Where do you dream of traveling to and why?

Space. I cannot picture a more amazing experience than floating through the endless expanse of the universe. How small must a person feel in comparison to the immensity of the world beyond what we know here on earth?

 

 Do you believe in ghosts?

Absolutely. Just as the unknown beyond the earth’s atmosphere intrigues me, so does that which is unseen but truly felt if one pays attention. I sincerely believe that those who love us watch over us—not of course in the sense that we are being stalked but more as a supportive and sometimes guiding presence.

What is your favorite color?

Sublime, preferably on a 1971 Hemi Cuda with a black stripe as it shines in the sun on my driveway. Okay, I don’t have one yet, and I suppose it reveals my age to yearn for one, but faith in what you desire can make great dreams come to life. Right?

If you could spend the night anywhere, where would it be?

Matthew Bomer’s bed? Shhhh. I didn’t say that. (Click HERE to drool, courtesy of blog maven)

 

What do you do to unwind and relax?

I garden. I often visited my grandparents’ farm as a child and working in the dirt brings back fond memories.

Do you play games? What kind?

My friends and I are currently addicted to Farkle and my family plays a pretty cutthroat game of Tripoly.

 

Tell us about your next release.

My first story with Decadent released July 5^th so I don’t have a next quite yet. I am beyond excited about this hot short. It is called Mountain Claiming. It is a M/M love story and part of the 1Night Stand GLBT series. MC tells the story of Jackson Castillo’s brother Jagger and the gorgeous gift Madame Eve tosses his way.