This month’s author interview is Alex Carreras who dreams of visiting the UK! Over to you, Alex…
Thanks for having me, Jen. To those who don’t know me I’m Gregory Payne aka Alex Carreras. I write contemporary and paranormal male/male erotic romance. Today I’m promoting my newest release from Wilde City Press, Rainbow Hill. Below is the link at the publisher’s site soon to be at all the usual suspects.
Rainbow Hill is set on a farm in Jefferson, Maryland, a town close to where I grew up. It’s about two young men who are not feeling so young, and their aging fathers who lost their wives all living under the same roof. The four men come together for different reasons hoping to make a success of a business endeavor and to mend their relationships. Sounds serious? It is. But if you’ve read any of my other work, Rainbow Hill has its funny and sweet moments too.
I write from Sarasota, Florida about sexy men in compromising positions while dreaming of living in a cold, but still cozy, village somewhere in the United Kingdom. Here I am with my sister Katrina and my friend Sue exiting Annie's in Washington D.C. Great food and good times!
What’s the strangest (bravest, funniest etc) thing you’ve ever done?
Please read “tales from the pink side” by Gregory Payne for the answer to this question.
What’s your guiltiest pleasure?
If it’s pleasurable I have guilt. I was raised Roman Catholic. Need I say more.
Favourite rainy day activity?
Watching British TV shows on my bed with a pint of ice cream clutched in my piggy hands.
Tell us about your latest book
Tell us about your latest book
Rainbow Hill from Wilde City Press. I am so proud of this novel set on a farm in the lovely town of Jefferson, Maryland. Here is a baby blurb off the Wilde City website.
When Ethan Stokes returns to his family’s farm after his mother’s death, he didn’t expect the obligatory weekend visit to turn into a project that would take the entire summer to complete. He also didn’t expect to be living with Quinn Kincade, the man who Ethan shared his first kiss with back in high school. But if Ethan remembered correctly, wasn’t Quinn… straight?
Between milking cows, renovating barns, and dealing with aging fathers with strong opinions, the two men try to maneuver the best they know how, both looking for their happily ever after atop Rainbow Hill.
What makes a great hero?
No matter how many faults the hero has he will always do the noble thing. I love and always write imperfect heroes.
Do you have anything in common with your characters?
I can tell you what I don’t have in common, the great sex my characters always seem to be having.
(Haha! Know what you mean!!)
When did you write your first book (and is it published)?
I was published
My three-year anniversary is coming up soon! I was first published January of 2012 by Siren Publishing with my sexy mm novella Summer Heat. Love that story!
How do you come up with inspiration for your books?
I go to the gym frequently and gawk at hot guys. It’s all for research, of course.
Quick Fire round
Tall skinny or short but muscular? Short but muscular.
Hawaii or Norway? Stopover at Hawaii on my way to Norway.
Turquoise or mauve? Turquoise! Who would choose mauve?
A juicy grilled steak with garlic butter or vanilla & raspberry cheesecake with white chocolate? I hate red meat.
George Clooney or Brad Pitt? I refuse to choose! (I agree. Have both!)
Flogging or paddling? Can I choose whip cream play? Two birds one stone, so to speak. (Sounds fun).
Bouquet of roses of bunch of wild flowers? Rose. I love roses.
Links of how fans can find you on the internet/buy your books?
Go to Wilde City Press to read the entire book. Link is here.http://www.wildecity.com/books/gay-romance/rainbow-hill/#.VJH9Nigx9SU
And here are some excerpts from Alex’s book:
Ethan Stokes dreaded going home, or better stated, where he had been raised. Since graduating from college, home was now Washington, DC with its sidewalk cafés, world-famous museums, historic universities, and vibrant gay life, not…this.
As he steered his Range Rover toward Jefferson, Maryland, the familiarity of the vast, green pastures most people found breathtakingly beautiful—that is, if you could breathe through the smell of freshly laid fertilizer—caused Ethan to remember, instead, endless months of back breaking work in extreme weather conditions, combined with stretches of seemingly endless mind-numbing boredom. But when he received the phone call from his father, the roughneck, straight shooting, Tucker Stokes, asking for his help, it was the call Ethan had waited for all his life. So saying no wasn’t an option. The one thing Ethan wished he had gotten around to asking was, what kind of help did his father need, exactly?
Over the hour drive north, heading toward Frederick, Ethan had played out every possible scenario he could imagine, coming to only one conclusion, that it was time to sell the family farm.
With the economic downturn, rising taxes, and the country's obsession against all things dairy, Ethan had no idea how his father had survived as long as he had in the farming industry. After his mother’s death three years earlier, selling Oak Hill Farm appeared to be the only logical conclusion. Ethan was positive his father would live comfortably for the rest of his life on the sale of the farm, which consisted of over two hundred acres of pristine countryside, numerous barns and outbuildings, and a five-bedroom Victorian farmhouse, chipped paint and porch swing included. Sure, he knew that after the sale, the
buildings would be leveled and the land cleared for a single-family home community for DC commuters, but he didn’t care. The farm had been a place he had hated as long as he could remember.
Coming off the highway, Ethan signaled right, his anxiety ratcheting up a notch. With his mother gone, there would be no one to referee the arguments that would no doubt ensue. No matter how hard he tried to get along with his father, they generally found something to disagree on, usually the way Ethan lived his life.
Spotting the rusted out sign for Oak Hill Farm, the letter ‘O’ nothing but a hole, Ethan slowed to take the turn. Deep potholes bucked his Range Rover from side to side, causing his weekender bag, stuffed to capacity, to fall off the backseat onto the floor. He cringed as he heard the thud, worried that the fine Napa leather would suffer an unsightly scratch. But the bag wasn’t Ethan’s, it was his ex’s, who still cluttered up half the master walk-in closet.
Recently separated, the Dupont Circle townhouse was now listed, but as of yet there were plenty of lookers and no serious offers. Randall had suggested lowering the price, but that was easy for him to say, he had a trust fund left to him by a spinster aunt, and a successful interior design business that catered to the area gays with million dollar disposable incomes. The same interior design business Ethan had worked at for over five years until Randall announced that he no longer loved him and wanted to call it quits. Ethan suspected that Randall had had a better offer for role of partner from a younger, more muscular guy, who was willing and eager to do anything, especially between the sheets. His suspicions where confirmed when Randall showed up at the townhouse late one night with a young Latino ‘friend’ with overly pumped pecs and a bubble butt to match, helping Randall to ‘collect a few things’………..
Oh, why, why, WHY did he have to look like that? Ethan screamed inside his head. And now he’s starting to show his softer side. Ethan took a few steps back and pretended to survey the completion of the north and east wall of the barn instead of Quinn’s bubble butt wrapped in faded blue jeans. There was even a small hole under the left back pocket that exposed tight, white cotton underwear, a sight that made Ethan’s heart erratic and his cock hard as a metal rod. Damn.
“So how did we do, boss?” Quinn asked, beads of sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. Ethan wanted to walk up to him, rip the shirt off his toned torso, and take him right there on the hard wood floor. Swallowing, he forced the fantasy out of his head.
“Not bad,” he answered.
Quinn reached in his back pocket and pulled out his phone to check the time. “I’m going to walk up to the house and check on things.” Ethan read between the lines, realizing that meant seeing if Frank was sober enough to work that afternoon, Quinn having to step in if he wasn’t. “Want to come with me? We worked through lunch, and I’m starving. At least stop to get a drink.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Ethan agreed. He began the task of cleaning up, replacing the lids on the paint cans and gathering random cloths used while working. “You go ahead. I’ll be up soon.”
Quinn cocked his head as if he wanted to ask a question but nodded curtly. “See you soon,” he threw over his shoulder before disappearing out the open door.
Maybe it was the heat, but it was also Quinn that made Ethan become consumed with the need to jerk off…. Immediately. One thing he failed to mention to Quinn earlier was, he not only used to come to the shed to smoke, he came here to masturbate, too. Taking the risk, Ethan darted for the door and peered out to assess the situation.
The coast is clear.
Finding the darkest most secluded spot, Ethan ducked behind the last of the stuff that would no doubt be cleared tomorrow, finding shelter. Overcome by lust, he unzipped and reached in his underwear to free up his already hard cock. Just touching himself and the risk of getting caught made his heart smash against his rib cage and his thighs tremble with anticipation. Ethan hadn’t been this horny and excited in quite some time, or possibly ever. Stroking quickly, time being of the essence, he closed his eyes and rested his back against a wall that still remained unpainted. Thoughts of Quinn, past and present, flashed in his mind like an erotic slide show.
He had always wanted Quinn. Then and now. With the other hand, he cupped his balls and squeezed, imagining it was Quinn working him over. A moan escaped from his parted lips. Quickening his pace and applying more pressure, he felt his cock pulse. He opened his eyes for only an instant to make sure that he was still alone and squeezed them shut again.
What the fuck am I doing, he thought, masturbating in the middle of the day in a semi-public place? He never took these kinds of risks, other guys did. But as the rush of orgasm overtook his body and washed over his brain, Ethan came to the realization that apparently he was one of those guys after all. Fighting back the urge to cry out, he widened his stance as the stream of thick, pearly cum arched from his cock and shot into the still air of the shed. Over and over it came, landing on the floorboards with force. Unable to hold it in any longer, Ethan moaned as his body convulsed with ecstasy. He rode it to the end and waited until he caught his breath and his heart returned to a somewhat normal pace before opening his eyes again. Flicking his dick, the last remaining drops of cum rained down on to the floor. Folding himself away, Ethan zipped up and shifted so he could step out of his safe haven.
Ethan froze on hearing Quinn call his name.
Thanks for taking part Alex. Next month’s victim(!) is Skye Michaels.