
Hi, all! It's Flashback Thursday -- I'm PD Singer. Just back from GayRomLit in New Orleans, where I had a chance to meet our illustrious publishers and a great many Torquere Press authors in the flesh. We know each other through our words; now we have faces to attach to the names.
Meeting the readers was a ton of fun; people mentioned books they'd read and liked. Fall Down the Mountain got mentioned several times, so today I'm going to share a bit of Mark's novel with you.
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Fall Down the Mountain
Ski patrol Mark McAvoy dug Ulf’s body out of the avalanche, and the dead man haunts his dreams. Mark needs someone to wake him from the nightmares as much as he wants someone to share his days. He gave up the fleeting encounters with vacationing skiers who don’t remember his name later, but he’s aghast at the well-meaning friends who are trying to round up potential boyfriends.
Chef Allan Tengerdie cooks dinner for seventy skiers every day, delivers it to their condos, and eats his own meals alone. A chance invitation to a pot-luck at Mark’s home is his perfect opportunity to captivate a hungry, lonely man. Mark’s ready to be there for him, even after he gets hurt on the slopes, until another man’s shadow falls across them.
That man is dead, and now the grand jury wants Mark to explain his role in the avalanche that killed him.
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(Un-domestic ski patrol Mark has just hosted a pot luck at his apartment.)
Excerpt:
"Thanks for having me over tonight." Allan shook the crumbs out of the dishtowel and hung it neatly over the oven door handle. "You have a nice bunch of friends."
"Hey, glad you could join us." I had enjoyed the fantasies while they lasted.
"Does the cleaning crew all get kissing privileges?" Allan took a step toward me.
"Huh?" Oh, that was elegant. "I heard you say you weren't interested." I wanted to take the next step toward him, but didn't.
"You heard me say I wasn't interested in Jorey Taylor, and I'm not." He tipped his face to me. "But I did like your choice of magazines."
"A guy needs something when he's unattached." I came that step closer and looked into his eyes, wondering if I'd get to lick that cleft chin tonight.
"I know. I have a few of my own." Now Allan's hands were on my waist -- I put mine on his upper arms, firm with muscle that belied the stockiness in his middle.
Damn, but it's fun to kiss someone half a head shorter than yourself. I leaned my head enough to meet his mouth, soft and pliant under mine, and just when I was about to open my mouth and really taste him, there was a knock on the door. That deflated my growing erection and made us spring apart like guilty men.
"Fuck. The process server found me." I'd almost managed to forget about that.
"You didn't do anything awful to Ulf, did you?" Allan couldn't have heard the stories, or might not have connected them with me. Quiet suspicion filled his voice.
"No. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I would have saved him if I could." There was a sick announcement in my gut that I'd dream tonight, and Allan's face wasn't promising he'd stick around to wake me out of it. "It was just a ghastly accident."
There was more insistent rapping.
"You better get it." It had been great while it lasted, the whole one kiss of it.
"Yes?" There had been a time when I'd have liked nothing better than to have Jake knock on my door, but not now. "What?"
"Sorry. I forgot the table." Jake sheepishly entered and folded up his collapsible monstrosity. "Good night, guys." He high-tailed it out of there with evidence that my life was barren and in danger of remaining so. If I actually owned a proper table, I might have had the chance to lay Allan down over it. He and I looked at each other, knowing the moment was as burst as a soap bubble.
"Good night, Mark." The kiss he put on my cheek was as chaste as Julie or Chelsea's, and now he was just as gone.
I did dream that night, but it was Allan in the snow.
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Find it here, at Torquere!