My new novella, Lovers & Fighters, is being released with Dreamspinner Press on September 9th. I’ll be over at the DSP blog on September 8th, doing some behind the scenes posting, so please stop by so I’m not terribly lonely!
Lovers & Fighters is a novella I wrote about a year and a half ago. It’s not the most recently thing I’ve written. I kind of sat on this story for over a year deciding if I’d ever let it see the light of day. I sometimes do this with stories because I’m a fickle person.
Lovers & Fighters was my own little exploration into two people falling in love for no reason. I didn’t want either of the characters to be able to say, “I love him because _______.” I wanted them to say, “I love him, because.” That’s just the way love works sometimes.
Diamonds (Life According to Maps Series)(Thanks to SRAL for the naming help!) will be my newest work. It’s at 14k currently, and is it ever ridiculous. It’s ripe with teenage angst, immaturity, misunderstandings, and a lot of naivety. I’m going to aim to finish it for end of September and then send it away to my editor. Cross your fingers for me!
I’m also working on a few other things very painfully slowly. I’m easily distracted. I have a southern gothic WIP that’s been planned for ages that I need to write, and another M/M contemporary duology. Working names for said duology are:
Arrows Through Archer (#1)
Mercy in Malory (#2)
I mostly have this series planned and outlined. The series involves a large age difference and reunited lovers. Sort of. I’m anticipating this series to be heart-wrenching, and I’m also anticipating receiving a couple of death threats after book one. No end date in sight for these.
You can visit my southern gothic inspiration board here: https://www.pinterest.com/nashsummers/southern-gothic/
On that note, I’ll leave you with my southern gothic WIP prologue.
If I fell in love with the devil, would I still have a soul?
Gran always told me he’d look like something that clawed its way out of a fantasy I never knew I had. She said his heart would be blacker than the chew in the rusty cans next to my uncle’s rocking chair. She said he’d smell like the freshly plucked peaches she used in her pies, and that he’d be twice as sweet. She said that his voice would cut into my heart and make me weep so deeply that I would forget the sound of my own voice. She said the feeling of his skin would seer my own, that my guts would coil into tight tendrils of desperation and fixation, like those girls I’d seen crying down at the sheriff’s office. She said that when he’d smile at me, it would be a reminder that the wicked creature just beneath the surface of his flesh was waiting—patiently—to eat me whole.
Gran told me that I would fall in love with the devil.
And she told me that he would love me right back.