I want to Welcome BJ on his First Stop during his “The Rainbow Connection” blog tour.
I’m so excited that he started on GGR-Review.
BJ has brought some Exciting and shall I say Stimulating things for us to read.
We have an EXCLUSIVE Excerpt and for BJ’s Blog Post he talks about A Matter of Size or Size Matters (So yes, your mind can stay in the gutter).
Exclusive Excerpt for GGR-Review:
“You have a lovely home Liam,” she said, twisting the knife a little harder as she stared a beat too long at the clay statue on the sideboard entitled “Balls Deep” and given to me as a gag gift by my college roommate.
“Thank you Mrs. Jacobs” I sweetly replied as her eyes focused on the stack of nude photography books stylishly littering the coffee table.
“Please, call me Dora,” she smiled back through her venomous pencil thin lips.
“Dora, of course.”
“So Manfred tells me you are a writer?”
What else did Manfred tell you? I wondered, gripping the hot cup of tea in a bone-crushing vice grip in my hands.
“Yes that’s right.”
“What is it you write dear?”
“I’m a journalist. I write for an online magazine. I’m the Executive Director.”
Take that you snobby cunt, I bristled in the voice I used in my head that was freakishly similar to Arnie in Terminator.
“Oh that’s wonderful. What kind of magazine?”
“Oh you know, it’s mainly fluff pieces, lot’s of s…”
“Style,” Manny interjected, too loudly and completely unnecessarily.
Our eyes met, his so wide I could see white all around the iris. What is your problem? I thought, flabbergasted by his sudden outburst. I was just going to say I write about sex. Oh. Right.
“Yes,” I answered, trying to reign in my flaring temper.
“Well, which one?” God what was this? Twenty-fucking-Questions: Nosy Bitch Edition?
“He writes about fashion. He’s very fashionable, see? He always looks so handsome.”
Manny was answering for me again, and it suddenly dawned on me why I was so angry. It wasn’t that he was speaking for me, as in all truth I’d rather not be included in any and all conversations involving his mother. It was more that he seemed ashamed of what I did. Yeah I write a lot of fluff and yeah, sometimes it’s needlessly sexy, but my writing helps people. Sometimes I give good advice; I have emails to prove it from desperate gays I imagine sitting
round in poorly decorated rooms in ill-fitting jeans with no one to have sex with. Okay, yeah, maybe ‘help’ was too grand a word. Point is, it’s my job and I love it. And Manny was clearly embarrassed by what I do. I glared at him again. Feel the wrath of my wilting stare, I projected, which seemed to amuse him greatly.
“Well it’s late and I’m awfully tired. Would you mind if I turned in?” The woman stood and grabbed her overnight bag and headed away from where I sat boring holes through Manny with my laser beam death glare. Wait.
“She’s staying here?” I whispered to Manny, leaning in so I wouldn’t be heard.
“Yeah, that’s why we’re here. I don’t have a guest room, remember?”
“God, this is the worst surprise ever Manny. You really are just the biggest shit.”
“What did I do?” he whined, his voice lilting upwards like a reprimanded child.
“Well aside from springing this little visit on me without warning, you are obviously embarrassed by what I do for a living.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. Sweet, clueless Manny.
“Why couldn’t you just let me tell her what I write about? We’re all adults here.” My reasoning was solid, as solid as my resolve. Until he touched me, just north of my knee, on the inside, the place he knows can shut me up instantly, and I crumpled like cheap taffeta.
“She’s an old woman Liam. She doesn’t need to hear the kind of things you write about. I’ve read everything you’ve ever written, and you’re brilliant. But she wouldn’t understand.”
He massaged my thigh. God I was so easy. All forgiven. He could have nailed a puppy dog to my wall and I would have forgiven him a thousand times over. I think the term they use for this particular form of character flaw is ‘whipped’.
“Okay, I understand,” I said, defeated. Manny leaned towards me, lips slightly parted, offering the kiss I had desperately needed since I saw him at my desk that morning.
We broke apart as his mother made herself known again. I looked at Manny, his face ashen and his eyes wide in disbelief. I didn’t want to turn around, but there it was again; that staring-at-the-car-wreck feeling. I turned, almost in slow motion, to regard the small woman; face pinched, one eyebrow cocked in bemusement, holding up a ball-gag in one hand and a twelve inch realistic black dildo in the other.
Because that just seemed to be the way my life was going.
The Guest Blog:
The following guest post was written by BJ Sheppard in character as Liam Adams, the lovable MC in The Rainbow Connection
The Rainbow Connection Blog Tour Posts Part I: A Matter of Size or Size Matters
My name is Liam Adams and I am the quirky controller of the (arguably) quality e-zine, The Rainbow Connection: bringing you all the latest in gay life from the inside. Sometimes further inside than I would care to share. I am admittedly a male-male romance fiction junkie and have whittled many an hour down reading the hot and heavy stylings of the greatest genre authors, my Kindle in one hand, my dick in the other, flabbergasted by the intimacy and intensity of the act of making love. I love to get lost in the torrid tales of the sexual encounter, to divest myself of all reality and dive, head first, into the mysterious maze of the act of male lovemaking. And that’s what it is. Love making.
So it stands to reason there are certain things that are banished from these prize volumes; certain anatomical improbabilities or certain events white-washed over to protect the heartfelt connection of the two (or three or four) members participating in making the beast with two backs (or three or four). This little collection of essays will address these lies-by-omission and I’m fairly convinced that by the time I’m done, everyone will realize why it’s important not all truths are analyzed in the ever-growing world of gay literature…
Let’s start at the very beginning; it’s a very good place to start. Here we have a man. In order for said male to participate in the knocking of boots, this (typically always) hulking muscle man must have one thing to set the dirty wheels in motion: a cock. I’m more than sure that everyone reading this is familiar with the musical musings of the skin flute of which I speak. I defy you, however to find a book where the guy is rocking a typical dick. The world over, when it comes to these fantasy romps, each of our testosterone bubbling visions of masculinity are packing appendages so hefty they could double as a third leg. And without fail, they use this impressive appendage to glorious success without causing serious perforations to anyone’s intestinal tract or indeed, more often than not, without the aid of anything more than a handful of spit. I mean, really? It would be like trying to shove a pumpkin into a pint glass. But yet there we have it; huge dick slips in without resistance and we all joyously cum in tandem with earth shattering orgasms that ricochet off every wall in a five mile radius. Sound familiar?
Let me allow you a brief glimpse into my experience with a mutant pork sword that left me a little dubious of the benefits of a big wang. It was the summer of 2007 (or there about) and while I was fourteen shots of Patron into a really fabulous night in the club, I came across a guy that, for whatever reason (read: I’m a drunk) I cannot remember his name. For the sake of this essay we shall call him ‘Hindenburg’. Hindenburg was about three feet tall and as built as a toothpick with arms. I’m not usually the type to cross-contaminate the twink pool, but the kid was cute and I was wasted. He looked like a bottom, so the prospect of scissoring our butts together to get off was less than appealing, but for the love of God, the boy was insistent. Four shots and an eye-roll later, we were back at his modest (read: shitty) apartment on the edge of New Town, and at this point I recall only three things:
1) I was so drunk I could barely stand
2) He was not the meek bottom I had taken him for
3) He was smuggling trouser meat so large it would have made Chad Hunt jealous.
I will not bore you with the details of the frail and somewhat unbelievable excuses I used to try and get out of there. When I tried to leave, his innocent face fell into a mask of rejection and I didn’t have the heart to kick this man-puppy. Unfortunately for me, I also didn’t have an ass that would accommodate the gargantuan flesh pole that, after fifteen minutes, was threatening to break my lower jaw off. Cut to act itself; I lay on my back, relaxing like I was about to undergo surgery without anesthesia, as he aimed his mighty lance at my quivering hole. As he pushed inside, I screamed the wail of a banshee, breathed like I was giving birth and allowed him all of one inch of access before I
hit the headboard in a desperate attempt to flee the life threatening penetration. I was not a man of morals or values (read: I had taken many rides around the block and enjoyed it so much I was circling back around for yet another go) but faced with utter devastation my pucker was about to endure, I recoiled into myself like a vestal virgin in a strip club. There was no way that thing was going anywhere near me again, and that was that. Unless I had an ass like a wizard’s sleeve, I was to be defeated by what, even to this day, was the biggest dick I had ever seen. I stayed. We cuddled. I left in the morning still sore from the minimal invasion to my back door that left me damn near unable to shit for a week.
So while I read these wondrous tales of amorous men with their well-oiled machines, DTF like they were 60 thousand leagues beneath the sea without a hand or Fleshjack in sight, I take it all with a pinch of salt. While real life suggests otherwise, I am happy to flick through pages of wanton holes stretching to fit abnormally sized trouser snakes, content in the fact that, with fiction, comes a little fantasy. No one in their right mind would want to read about how, on entry, most guys have to hold still for five minutes to acclimatize to the invasion, even if the penetrator is simply rocking an average six. No one wants to read about the pre-coitus grooming routine, or the epic fails of trying to rip off a rubber without spunk-spraying the bed sheets in a combination of erotic emissions and ass-scented lube. No one. Not one person. So, with that in mind, no one wants to read how sex often actually goes down. I am one of those people. Just paint me a pretty picture that will get me hard and let me have my fantasy jollies without the overbearing presence of reality.
But if you think the reality of shoving a cucumber into your coin-purse is less than attractive, well…we have only just begun to scratch the surface.
The Tour Stops:
Here are links to the stops on BJ’s The Rainbow Connection Vol I tour.
7/29/14 Rhys Ford
7/30/14 Prism Book Alliance
7/31/14 Love Bytes Reviews
7/31/14 Hearts on Fire Reviews
8/01/14 Boy Meets Boy Reviews
8/02/14 MM Good Book Reviews
8/03/14 The Novel Approach Reviews
The Book Description:
The RAINBOW CONNECTION: Volume I
Living a care-free party life-style, junior journalist and gay lifestyle reporter, Liam Adams thought he had it all; the money, the job, the endless supply of men in his bed. But when his work causes him to question the very foundation of the life he has built for himself, Liam finds certain areas are glaringly lacking. All it takes is one assignment to unravel the very fabric of his promiscuous antics, compounded by the arrival of a long-forgotten tryst. With the rusty screech of the mailroom guy’s trolley wheels, Liam lands head-first in the arms of something bigger; something more.
As the romance burgeons between Liam and the Mail-Manny of his dreams, each article he writes proves to uncover something new and never realized about himself, namely that all the one-night-stands in the world could never give him what he truly wants; love. In a slapstick commentary through the eyes of the world’s most hypersensitive journalist, watch as Liam’s story unfolds in the most ridiculous of fashions, leading him straight into the arms of love, via The Rainbow Connection.
It’s always difficult to write about yourself, especially when, like me, you have no idea what you’re doing most of the time. I have always loved to write, from a very early age with some rather extravagant dinosaur fairytales to more recently when I found my writers voice and finally put it to good use. It has been a dream of mine for a long time to write a book, and since finding a genre I am comfortable in, the ideas have been pouring out of me. I hope it never stops.
In my spare time I like to hang out with my friends, write and record music and read all the books I can lay my hands on. I currently live in the south of England, but from here on out, who knows what will happen. Each day is its own.
These books are hopefully the first of many, and while there are readers enjoying my work, then there will always be new things for me to say. If you want to know any more, please feel free to contact me at any of the links below. Thank you for reading.
My name is BJ Sheppard and all at once I found myself an author. Such a strange sensation to actually feel you deserve the thing you had aspired to for many years. After all, all it took was computer access and an inner world that reads like a Sheryl Crow song to pound the keys and translate my crazy ideas onto the page. I feel like I could have business cards printed. Maybe wear a black roll neck and perch my glasses on the tip of my nose. I could drink whisky and smoke a cigar and do all those really stereotypical things I imagine all writers do. Perhaps I could get laid a little more? This is not the end. Nor the beginning. Hell, it isn’t even about me. My boys write themselves; I really don’t have that much say in the matter. As long as my characters need a voice, I have two chubby typing fingers and a need to please— watch this space: there is more to come.
Bj Sheppard is giving a lucky reader the chance to win an eBook of The Rainbow Connection, all you need to do to enter is leave a comment below.
Comments must be time/date stamped by Midnight Pacific time on Sunday, August 03, 2014, to be eligible. One winner will be selected at random on Monday, the 04th, and notified via email for prize delivery. (Void where prohibited)
Best of Luck!