Aisling Mancy draws you into the story with language, scenes, and the characters until you forget to put the book down. The story is easy to read. I found the characters coming to life in my mind as I read their problems and experiences. This does have some sex in it, but the story is done in a way that makes each encounter further the storyline. He wrote a book of love in the greatest sense but also shows the opposite and sometimes dynamic nature of this emotion in people. The characters, with their unique problems, jump from the pages making you bond with them. A vampire, fae, dragon, gypsy and more are discovered and come to life when reading this book.
Taliesin Solitaire, the main character, is mysterious, soulful, and filled with the only type of longing you find from a vampire. Immortality definitely has its problems. But, other things might also stand in the way more powerful than even Solitaire can remove.
Pesha, a gypsy and tarot reader by profession in their company. His life is hard because of turmoil within his family. The problems of love, when faced with bigotry and going against a group’s way, is more than enough for this young man. A heart broken by brothers that wish power over him or to simply sweep him away as the trash they believe.
The Aisling Mancy’s writing makes you forget about the M/M aspects of the book. The love shows through as something pure and genuine between Solitaire and Pesha. As that love grows, you find out more revelations that make you wish them together more.
This was the first adult M/M book where when I read the sex scenes they didn’t turn me off or make me think of them as something other than loving. Aisling Mancy does something I think few others do. He places tenderness, passion, and compassion in those moments between the characters. They are never rough and tumble types of other M/M books I’ve read. He places something unique in each one that makes that time special between the characters. They aren’t sex scenes any longer they are lovemaking and bonding on a level rarely written.
You will laugh, cry and get angry when reading it. Every emotion emotes from the writing to sweep you into the tide of the two main characters. Their emotions become yours. This only happens when a story touches you in a way others haven’t because the author has poured those emotions on the page.
This story is something you want to read slower to catch every little thing placed into a scene. You go back and read a section again just to find something small that helps describe the scene to bring it more to life in your mind. You feel the coldness, smell the sea air, and feel the warmth of the fireplace. Scenes and areas so well detailed that you have to glance up to make certain you are not there.
The additional touches of Romani language were outstanding and you could understand the words because of when and how Mancy used them. The story is written in more of a High English that harkens back to the times when one character would have lived and been brought up. It’s easy to read and understand because of this.
There are two scenes of violence, but they are carefully used to show only the desperate situation of the character in their life. Done in a manner enough to show you the outcomes but not go into gory details that might have lessened the story of the two coming together.
I loved it and can’t say anything more about it, except maybe one thing. Buy the book.
A friend asked me some good questions recently. He asked, “Why is your world so dark? Why make me shutter to think about the possibility of living there yet wish to read on to find out if thing turn out for the better?”
First off, my world has light in it, but even that comes in shades of grey. I show things for what and how they would truly be in a society driven by greed, ego, domination, and sex which can only be balanced by their opposites selflessness, independence, and love. A place where wars were so violent that males have dwindled to smaller numbers and females take the lead in society.
My world makes you shutter because it mirrors the hidden parts of our own. Where we have so many things unspoken but done here, they are in the open in my world. Those hairs that stand up on the back of your head when you read about abuse, assault, and even rape in my stories are all done here in this world. (Trigger Warnings to all those out there.) The only reason they aren’t revealed more is the fact it doesn’t drive the media to create fear in the population like the murders and mass shootings. Slavery is still a reality of life for all but few see the chains and collar of the wage slaves. Corporations try to control everything through their power and wealth just as they do here. The Elite control the Normal masses as the rich control everyone in our world. Species clash due to differences, and here people fight over such a minor thing as skin color. Religions in my world are extreme and sometimes violent and these mirror pieces of our religions now with their failings.
I drive my characters into dark experiences that might shatter the minds of most. Those same characters reveal their strength through overcoming those events. I show them as the shatter and fragmented psychological remains that are slowly put back together through goodness and love of another or torn slowly into pieces and remade in the image of evil itself.
My villains are not the usual types. Their reality is of a world turned into something far from what most could imagine. My villains are shown in detail so that revulsion and horror are felt when even hearing their name whispered in this one.
But things are not black and white. There are constant shades of grey. The evil in my world might help some and destroy others. The good in my world might do things in their name that appear far from moral and virtuous. The light of love mixed with the darkness of seduction and domination. The darkness of cruelty and torture mixed with the light of compassion and love. These things and many others are in my stories to come. Without darkness, you cannot see the light.
Few have the bravery to read any because once you do, it changes you. The horror that creeps into your mind is only an illusion or is it a reflection of the real terrors we have here. Psychological triggers and events abound in my stories because of the truth in those things that make us who we are.
Dark Dystopian Science Fiction mixed with Romance and Horror is my genre. Read it only if you dare.
Steven “Steel” Cameron was a Major in the U.S. Army when both of his lower legs were blown off by an IED in Iraq over nine years ago. The trauma was heightened by the fact that his wife of several years couldn’t handle the shock of how her handsome husband looked with two metal sticks to replace the strong, muscular legs that were no longer there. Steel, a Master Dom, never allowed his subs to see him completely naked. He hid his damaged legs and prostheses under tall, black riding boots at the club.
MacAlister “Mac” Smith was a biomedical engineer, prosthetist and physical therapist working on the design of the latest mind-controlled robotic limbs. Mac has seen and admired Master Steel at The Black Iris Club for months and thinks he would make a good candidate for Mac’s clinical trials of the new generation of robotic legs. He had also noticed that Steel did not seem to connect emotionally with any of his subs. Mac had accepted his homosexuality years ago, but he was still trying to come to terms with his need to be a submissive. He didn’t understand what drove him to want to turn himself over to another person completely and call that person Master. He was at the top of his field and totally in control in the lab. Why did he need to subjugate himself to another person sexually?
Can these two very different individuals overcome their emotional and physical problems and blend into a strong D/s partnership? Can Steel let go and give his heart again? Can Mac come to terms with his submissive needs?
Once they were in the Italian Renaissance Room with the door closed, he turned to Mac. “Disrobe, sub. We won’t need any cuffs, at least not right away.” Steel reclined on the chaise and made himself comfortable while Mac undressed and stowed his clothes in the armoire. Steel enjoyed watching Mac’s beautifully muscled body emerge from his street clothes. He never got tired of looking at that sleek body. When he was done, Steel gestured for Mac to join him on the chaise. “Open my zipper, sub, and then straddle my lap.”
Mac hastened to obey, and Steel’s cock sprang out from his leathers. Once he was in position, Steel pulled him down into a deep and dark kiss. He took the time to leisurely explore Mac’s mouth and graze his lips down the corded muscles of his throat. He reached into his pocket and brought out two plain gold screw-on nipple clamps.
“Let’s give these a try tonight, shall we, subbie?”
“As you wish, Sir.” Mac gasped as the clamps were tightened to just past comfortable on his flat brown nipples. His facial expression eased as he got used to the pressure. “That’s different, Sir.”
“I wanted to try something new, sub. Let me know if they become too uncomfortable.” Steel reached up from his reclining position and flicked the clamps with his tongue. He could feel Mac’s reaction flash through his body and the goose bumps rise up on his skin. “Prepare your Master’s cock, sub.”
“May I, Sir?” At Steel’s affirmative nod, Mac reached down and took Steel’s hard prick into his mouth. He licked and sucked until Steel’s cock throbbed in anticipation. Mac continued to play with Steel’s cock until it was hard as the tempered steel in his name.
Steel handed Mac a tube of lube. Mac applied a substantial squirt along Steel’s straining cock. Need pulsed through his veins. He pulled Mac forward over his shaft and impaled him in one smooth thrust. Steel gave a triumphant growl as Mac’s ass muscles began to milk his cock. He thrust up into Mac’s back entrance, and they rocked each other to a shattering climax, gleaming muscles straining. A sheen of perspiration coated Mac’s chest, and rivulets of sweat trickled over Steel’s ripped abs as Mac collapsed against his chest.
“Excellent, subbie.” They rested that way until Steel’s cock finally began to soften and slipped out of Mac’s back door. Steel pulled Mac’s unresisting body up close to his chest and cradled him in his arms. They both struggled to regain their breath.
Alex Richmond had been in love with his rough, tough, impatient boss, Jarred Ransom since he started at Ransom Construction six months ago. He had no idea that Jarred was bisexual, but on a business trip to Fort Lauderdale, he discovers that Jarred wants to introduce him to BDSM.
While they are dining at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Alex overhears one side of a phone conversation that throws him for a loop. A past sub of Jarred’s reveals that she has a son that looks like Jarred. Alex has no choice but to tell Jarred that he may have a child that he was unaware of. When little Benji is in danger, the parental instincts of both men surface, and Alex is prepared to sacrifice his love for Jarred for Benji’s happiness. Can they save Benji and can Jarred convince Alex they can have it all?
Rickie Estavez had immigrated to the United States twelve years ago when life in Mexico had become unbearable. His traditional Mexican family could not accept his homosexuality. Mexican culture was not tolerant of that particular deviation from the norm. In the ensuing years Rickie had managed to make a life for himself in the predominantly gay suburb of Fort Lauderdale called Wilton Park. He had a comfortable life, work, friends, and the little house he was renovating. He was happy.
While basically estranged from his entire family, Rickie remained close to his fraternal twin brother, Fernando, a rising star in the State Attorney’s Office in Mexico City. Fernando’s successful prosecution of members of the Juarez drug cartel put Fernando in the cross-hairs of a cartel death sentence, and he had gone into hiding at the family beach house on Cozumel.
Dom Sam McCade, special consultant to Homeland Security on the illegal immigration issue, was staying at the exclusive and very expensive Wilton Park Grand Hotel for his first vacation in years. When Sam walked into the Zen Way hair salon where Rickie worked for a haircut, both men were instantly smitten.
A relationship developed, but Rickie felt he couldn’t confide his brother’s problem to the government consultant. When the opportunity for Rickie to accompany Sam on a luxury New Years’s cruise to Cozumel aboard the Golden Dolphin, arises, Rickie can’t pass up the possible opportunity to rescue his brother from the drug cartel.
Can Rickie save his brother from the Juarez cartel, and can he salvage the relationship with Sam that was damaged by his lack of trust?
Danny Holcomb is involved in an unhealthy and dangerous Master/slave relationship with sadistic Dom Randy Newman. When Randy leaves Danny beaten and barely conscious in the dungeon theme room at The Black Iris Club, Dom Jack Dalton Brown steps in. Jack moves Danny out of his apartment and into a secluded cottage that is off the grid on the grounds of The Wilton Park Grand Hotel. The WPG is an elegant boutique hotel catering to a gay clientele, owned by Jack’s investment group. Jack also gives Danny the job of assistant manager of the WPG. Danny is struggling to heal from his ordeal at the hands of Randy Newman who has been encouraged none too gently by Jack Brown and his friends to leave town and to leave Danny alone.
Rush Tanner, a sex therapist, and psychologist from New York is planning to move his practice to Fort Lauderdale. At the urging of Jack Brown, Rush meets Danny at the Brown-Gallagher wedding at The Black Dahlia Hotel on Christmas Eve. Despite early fireworks, Danny and Rush hit it off, and their relationship is on the way to becoming important to both of them.
At the New Year’s Eve gala at The Wilton Park Grand, Danny is spotted by one of Randy’s friends. Randy had been looking for Danny but had been unable to track him down. Randy begins staking out the Wilton Grand in hopes of catching sight of Danny. When he gets the opportunity, he abducts Danny.
Can Rush and their friends from security at The Black Dahlia track Danny down in time to save him from Randy Newman’s wrath? Will Rush and Danny’s relationship survive another catastrophe at the hands of Randy Newman?
Young attorney, Shane Beckett, junior associate at McGrath & Temple, LLP, has known he was gay since high school, but he has never had the courage to come out of the closet. A series of straight relationships that had not worked out have left him conflicted as he struggled to come to terms with his sexual preference.
Shane is given the assignment to review the due diligence package for a restaurant acquisition file for the bi-sexual, enigmatic, handsome and powerful restauranteur and Dom, Cordell McAdam. On Shane’s first trip up to The Black Iris Club in their office building, Shane is introduced to Cord McAdam. He is stunned when he finds out that his co-workers had thought him gay all along despite his attempts at camouflage with his ex-girlfriend Nicole. Thinking Shane and Cord might make a good connection, senior partner Dan McGrath introduces the two.
Cord takes newbie sub, Shane, under training and opens the world of BDSM for him. Their relationship is becoming more and more important to each of them although neither has said the words. Cord is encouraging Shane to come out of the closet and live his life on his own terms. The situation hits critical mass when Shane’s parents come down from Connecticut to visit him in Fort Lauderdale. Shane’s inability to confront his parents with the facts and his relationship with Cord drives a wedge between them.
Can young Shane man up, confront his parents with the truth and come to an understanding with them? Can Cord forgive the betrayal he felt when Shane denied their relationship?
Ben Orsini, head surgical nurse for the world renowned plastic surgeon, F. Leigh Braxton, has been in love with his boss since he’d hired onto the surgical team two years ago. It had seemed an impossible crush since the tall, gorgeous blond god had a live in love, Nixon Jones.
When Nix was caught playing the field while Dr. Leigh was out of town, their relationship came to a crashing halt. It was obvious to Ben and the others in the office that Nix had been along for the ride and whatever he could get. It just took Leigh a little time to figure it out.
When Leigh decides to volunteer for a month on the Caribbean Compassion, a charity hospital ship providing free surgeries and critical medical care in poor Caribbean countries, he asks his nurse to go along. Apparently Ben had been on Dr. Leigh’s radar for a while, too, and this was their opportunity to explore new possibilities.
But Nix Jones has other ideas. He’s not willing to give up his cushy, carefree life as the doctor’s significant other and is determined to get back into Leigh’s good graces. Can Ben and Leigh hold it together, or will outside forces tear them apart?
Well, I believe we are all a little different. Everyone has some problems, quirks, or even kinks. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be you but only a copy of everyone else.
Since this is Autism Awareness Month, I thought I might share my story.
I realized I was different early in my childhood. Where most kids could read simple things by five, I had trouble. I had difficulty with sounding words, and putting htem (not a typo) together.
Yes, “htem” is how I normally saw the word “them.” It takes a great deal of concentration to type some days. I don’t hate my unique dyslexia or my backward speech patterns when I get mentally tired. I do hate people making fun of me or looking at me strangely when I make those mistakes. I don’t do it as often anymore, but when I get tired or upset, my mind freaks and then reading back words, numbers or even street signs becomes a crap shoot.
I was taught reading from having them read to me. If I couldn’t hear the word, I couldn’t read. No matter how many times I tried sounding words out few things worked. Phonetically, by syllable, or even having someone sound it out with me, my brain didn’t register the word in its usual form. After I had seen and had the word read to me a number of times, I could understand my visually seeing htem as them. Single letters and numbers weren’t a problem.
By the time 2nd grade came. I could do these things for most simple words but it took two long years of study. I could write the letters in the right order after I had seen them enough, but if I came to a new word, forget it. It baffled the teachers and back in the early seventies, the only things the doctors knew was mental retardation as a prognosis.
I would play for hours alone, away from others or play with only one other child. Socializing for me was extremely hard. I preferred to be alone. My mind ran at a hundred miles a minute with the sensory info I was getting. Complicate that by adding someone else and things get weird fast. They classified me as an introvert and tried to break me out of my shell, so to speak, at school but that never worked.
I rarely talked as I do today with others. When I did my speech was a jumble of words. at times. I would get physically or mentally tired and my speech would come out like this: ” I want drink to get.” I couldn’t make sense all the time. Trouble is, I still do this when exhausted or overstimulated.
Things slowly got better for me until around 6th grade. Due to an abusive teacher and other kids being bullies, I withdrew big time. My speech went crazy at times, reading was next to impossible and spelling took total concentration. Long story short, they put me in a special ed class for the year. My problems settled but never went away.
When 7th grade finally happened the same problems surfaced again. The school system wanted me in a special ed class again. My parents knew I was intelligent. Socializing was my biggest problem, they thought. After that was home schooled. I did the work and my parents graded it.
I excelled in my homeschool lessons and my parents like the idea I wasn’t getting sick constantly or having my speech and writing problems.
It wasn’t that the work was easy. It was actually harder than in regular school. The main reason I could do better was fewer distractions and people around me. I was safe and comfortable in my own place and my mind could work.
When 8th grade came up, the homeschool I had been going to didn’t have a high school for materials. I actually went to correspondence school for my high school years and one that was super hard. We didn’t know it until later that the books and lessons were actually college courses from the college and not high school courses.
I did the work and got good grades. I also learned a lot on my own from researching ideas and studying nature. I read every medical book I could get my hands onto on my father’s highest shelves. I also read a lot of books. All kinds of books. Everything from fantasy and sci-fi to the romance novels of my mother’s favorites.
All that time I was also learning to type and how to spell the words easier than ever. My fingers hit the keys in the right order from memory even if my brain told me otherwise when looking at them. I got my first computer and word processor. Then I started writing.
Things that take all my concentration are cathartic for me. Typing, writing, driving, doing physical things, and problem-solving are things that ground me.
Doctors today wouldn’t have told my parents I was probably “mentally retarded.” They would have diagnosed me as autistic with dyslexia. Psychologists would have diagnosed me as an introvert type personality with social disabilities in interacting with others. Psychiatrists would have told them I had a vivid imagination and liked to dwell in my own world rather than the real one or jump into a different projected personality when problems arise because my own personality was fragmented from family situations.
It would be more than twenty years later before they realized I was autistic and those other things. By that time, I was through college. I had learned how to cope with things on my own, but that doesn’t mean I always can.
Sirens, flashing lights, loud music, scents, and groups of people can overload me. They make me crawl back into my shell for days or create processes that make me wish to flee them. Loud shouting or fighting brings out the hermit crab in me.
Combine this with a constant and varying migraine with a ringing in my ears and you have a bad list for a day out if they happen. That’s a subject for another post.
Then there is something I don’t talk about that bothers me even more. I finally found a way around that. I wear gloves but tend to get frantic without them now. That is for another post too, I think.
Some days are harder for me than others. Most days I would rather shut out the world than expose myself to the myriad of sounds, smells, and experiences that assault my senses. I am most at home and at ease when in front of a computer with only my pet around me. I guess I’m still that little hermit crab.
I write my stories and explore new worlds, places, characters, and experiences all while trapped in my own little world.
Where were we? I remember I had gotten my first computer just received GEOS for it.
Well, GEOS came with a word processor, graphics, and some other programs. My first crude stories took shape on that and later another better word processor program. From the information I had acquired, I began to flesh out these alien beings called the First Borne.
I made detailed medical notes on them while creating the stories. The race began to take shape as all things do in life. My biggest problem was they were not like humans but were in other ways.
I used the graphic programs to draw up their body, then their internal organ arrangement. I drew on medical knowledge from books and studied various animals with traits similar to this race.
Everything came to a halt after I was sixteen. Family health problems and deaths had me living in two places. I set all of this aside to concentrate on my parents and grandparents.
I still wrote small stories. I wanted to pursue writing, but the only local college that offered such a program was way too expensive. I was given the chance to go to college for Electronics Technology. I went but found the market saturated with military coming out with more knowledge than I possessed with an Associates of Applied Science. I got another job using my art abilities and computer skills in drafting and design.
Still, I wrote my little stories. I also read so many books I couldn’t count them all. It was through reading other authors that I decided to set writing aside for later. Once I became disabled, later became now.
I started on one story. It detailed the second great war of my races. I still haven’t finished it, but it led me to a new place, Erde. From this place stories grew unlike I had written before. I wrote over one million words before trying to do my first book in a two-year period. Now I’m published, and my first story is out there in the world.
This isn’t a long post because it didn’t need to be.
Oh, the Hourglass. Well, that was a little story I wrote while in the ERWA (Erotica Readers and Writers Association). If it weren’t for those people there teaching me and pushing me, I would have kept with it. The other group is Writer’s World, that I need to thank. The lessons the head person gives in files and on posts proved of immense value in making my writing lean and never giving up my voice.
The only way to succeed is to help others succeed, and from their blessings, we are all so blessed. – The Mistress
Time is something that seems to go by too quickly for me. Some of my life events that shaped me are as if they happened yesterday. Others are more distant and remote. Writing is my solace and my conduit into my worlds where both friends and enemies dwell.
The above photo is relevant to the topic, I promise.
I guess most of you wonder how did I start writing. That’s a long story but I’ll try to make it concise.
Some people talk of science fiction and horror stories. Sometimes, I think, I lived it.
I started writing in third grade with a small horror story for English. I will always remember the title, Closet Monsters. It was the only thing I ever wrote in first-person until much later. I received an A on it. I was discouraged to write about such things again by the teachers, principle, and my parents. So, I turned back to art and drawing, my first love.
I guess I was eight or nine when I wrote my second story. The teachers hated it. It had me in the principle’s office and carrying a note to my mother. They graded it an A because of the technique, the grammar used and the shocking ending. The school confiscated the short story because it went opposite their religious ideas.
It wasn’t until I found Role Playing Games (AD&D) that I started becoming truly interested in writing at about ten. I wanted to learn more about my character’s backgrounds and history of where they were from. I wrote in little flip-top spiral notebooks. I also began reading on my own but this I found a dangerous addiction. There went homework some days.
Then sci-fi hit me big time with the release of Battlestar Galactica and other movies. I joined the Science Fiction Book Club and began picking out books that appeared interesting. Gaming went in this direction too with my first game Star Fleet Battles, based on Star Trek. Then FASA came out with Star Trek: The Role Playing Game. Well, long story short, I learned how to create my own races through those games. The races were simple and only two-dimensional compared to what I wished for them.
I moved from playing the games to writing stories about the first races I created. These were normal RPG races that were still cookie cutter ones from the games. I knew there had to be more.
It wasn’t until I was thirteen that something happened. I heard her voice for the first time. (I know you will think I was going crazy. I did too, but I wasn’t.) My Muse began to tell me and instruct me on her galaxy, planets, ships, her race of beings, and things you couldn’t imagine.
Now at this time, I was being homeschooled with a totally Christian upbringing. The things my Muse told me were contradicting of the bible and most of what humans thought of as evolutionary history. Even the one she worshiped was different. A being called simply Mistress in our tongue.
My Muse had my curiosity peaked and in an adolescent thirteen-year-old, this was a highly dangerous thing. I studied the encyclopedias on various subjects, science and space books from the library, and history books. When she began telling me weird things about their species, I had to move to medical books. (I had lacked any sex ed until then, so everything was eye opening and confusing.)
I wrote down everything but sometimes things were still at a distance or fogged in her words and my mind. Still, I cataloged all the data she imparted and studied further. I don’t even know how I was able to check out or read and understand some of the things I did from the library. My father’s bookshelf also contained books that were of science, biology, and religion. I climbed on many a piece of furniture to get to those high bookshelves.
Since I could draw, I drew things about them. First their buildings and homes, then I drew their two planets in detail. I lost almost all of those drawings in our move to a new house.
When I got my first computer, I didn’t ask for games. I asked for a word processor. This surprised my parents, but they got it. Then a program came out call GEOS for my computer. (Kind of like a very simple windows but made for a Commodore computer.) My interest grew and the information on the race expanded to computer files and art.
Well, that is all for today. See me next week when I tell more.