Love Bytes says hello and welcome to author B.G Thomas joining us today to talk about his new release “Getting His Man”, part of Dreamspinner Press their Dreamspun Desires line.
Welcome Ben 🙂
Getting His Man: How It Happened
So this is how it happened…. My husband, so similar to the husbands of so many writers of MM romance (sadly) doesn’t take a lot of interest in my writing—even though in my case I am not a woman and my husband isn’t straight. I could see why straight men wouldn’t want to read their wife’s gay romances. But my husband is gay!
He says that he is afraid that he won’t like my writing and then he will have to avoid telling me. *rolls
But he is a good man. A sweet man. And although he is the straightest gay man I have ever known, he can be very romantic. He proves that to me when he does show an interest in my writing. Sometimes he shows that by saying something like, “Hey baby…have you ever thought about writing a story about….”
The last time was when he was watching an episode of Quantum Leap where Scott Bacula leaps into the body of a bounty hunter. It is a very humorous episode where the woman he is after keeps escaping in hilarious ways and he keeps tracking her down. He has me watch it and thinks a gay version would be great.
I think he is right. I contact my publisher. They think it’s a good idea.
So I decide to do it.
Thing is I don’t know nothin’ about no bounty hunters.
But then the Universe smiles at me (as it often does—I am so blessed) and this lady I work for tells me her uncle is a bounty hunter! She arranges an interview! I get to talk to him and learn all kinds of cool stuff—plus some funny stuff too! The bounty hunter helps me create my guy who is going to be hunted by the bounty hunter. Helps me come up with the crime that gets him arrested—but not the kind that is going to alienate him from the reader.
Now here is another place where I think it gets interesting.
WAY back when I was about eighteen or nineteen I had this stoner roommate. He smokes a lot of pot. He’s not careful about it. I was constantly worried about getting arrested. One time he has enough marijuana in our apartment he could have gone to prison for years. Luckily, I was at a Queen concert (and that was luck—I got to see Queen! and it was an amazing concert!) at the time. I shared this story with the bounty hunter—who is also a bondsman—and we agreed I could use this story, except the young guy does get arrested. And he helps me realize what would happen next.
But then something horrible happens. This young guy, I call him Artie, and the bounty hunter, his name is August, decide that the story I was going to write is not their story. Not at all. Not one little bit. And for the next six or eight weeks I put on my seat belt and got the direction these two want me go.
I loved every minute of it.
Even though it wasn’t the story I intended to write.
What story did they live?
Well I guess you will just have to pick up a copy of Getting His Man and find out. If you like the ride half as much as I did, you will have a blast!
Here is the cover blurb….
GETTING HIS MAN
A love story worthy of an old movie… with a new twist.
Artie needs a hero, a man like those he’s always revered in Golden Age films. His drug-dealing jerk of a roommate got him arrested, and since his savior isn’t likely to sweep in and save the day, Artie calls a bail bondsman.
August has always imagined himself a hero from a black-and-white movie, but he’s never found a man willing to let him play that role—at least not until he gets the call from Artie.
Both of their dreams might come true, but not before August must use his skills as a bounty hunter as well as a bondsman. Artie is on the run for his life, and August must protect him and help him clear his name. Only then can they both finally get their man.
That novel is out right now and just ready for you to read. Here’s where you can find it….
They met Artie outside work.
Or more accurately, the BS Bar and Grill. It was a small place, a straight place, and Artie would never have gone there had his old supervisor, Bets, not owned the place.
The food was good, the drinks were strong (and he was such a whimp he never needed more than one or two) and even though the bartenders were all shapely women, Artie didn’t care. He wasn’t trying to pick up anyone anyway. It was just nice to be able to stop at a place so close to work and directly on the way home. Artie stopped there at least once a week.
His roommate Willie knew that. Willie’s friend Jorge Ortega knew that. They didn’t even give him a chance to go in the bar and get a drink first.
“Yo!” came a loud call from behind him.
Artie turned, surprised, and sucked in a breath when he saw who it was. He hadn’t seen Willie since the night they were all arrested. And Willie wasn’t alone. Jorge was with him. Artie’s stomach tightened. Don’t panic. Was there a reason to panic?
One look at Jorge’s face and he thought maybe there was.
“You bein’ rude, cabrón?” said Jorge.
Artie’s clenched stomach twisted in a most painful fashion. “I… I….”
“You always acted like you were better than me, pinche maricón,” Jorge said—more like snarled.
To Artie’s surprise, Jorge actually gave him a push. His twisting stomach turned to lead. Gosh. Gosh gosh gosh.
Jorge looked a lot like a gorilla. Huge shoulders and chest, upturned nose, heavy brow, dark eyes. He was scary. He’d always been scary. But right now he was as scary as just about anyone Artie had ever seen in his life. Right now, the fear was rising up inside Artie like some kind of tidal wave.
Artie glanced at Willie, who looked almost as uncomfortable as Artie felt. Except, of course, he couldn’t be. Jorge wasn’t threatening Willie!
“I’m really sorry, Jorge. It’s been a long day. My mind was a million miles away. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Jorge blinked at him. His heavy brow furrowed. After what seemed like forever, it relaxed. He blinked at Artie again and turned to Willie. “You think he’s being sincere, man? He bein’ real?”
Willie nodded, and it was clear, at least to Artie, that not only was he uncomfortable, he was—dare Artie even think it?—scared.
“I think so, dude,” Willie said, but not in his usual loud voice. All his bravado seemed to have vanished.
But he was trying to get it back. Artie could see it. Like watching an actor in a play.
Except this wasn’t something onstage. This was real life.
Jorge gave Willie a poke in the center of his chest with a big, simian finger. “You sure, pendejo? Because I am taking your word for it, amigo!”
Willie nodded energetically. “Yeah. Yeah! He might be a fag, but he’s cool. I wouldn’t have let a gay dude move in with me if he wasn’t cool.”
Fag? Had Will really just called him a fag? For a second he forgot he should be scared. You effin’ burnout! You’re really calling me a fag?
Jorge gave Willie a push. “You sure, pinche Willie?”
Artie watched Willie’s face, saw the emotions reflected there. (Who knew Willie had emotions?) Saw those emotions fight for control of Willie’s expression. Willie wanted to fight back and be tough, but he was too frightened. How fascinating to see Willie like that.
“He’s cool, Jorge.”
Criminy! Willie had decided not to be the big tough guy. He’d decided to let Jorge be the boss. What did that mean for Artie?
Jorge took a threatening step toward Artie, and for one instant, Artie wondered if he could fling open that bar door and run inside. But then Jorge did something, a trick August had told Artie about.
Jorge opened his jacket ever so slightly.
He had a gun.
There followed a pause that seemed to last forever, a pause in which Artie could hear his own heartbeat fill his ears.
Jorge leapt forward and shoved Artie—hard. Slammed him up against the door. Poked him right in the sternum with that ape finger and said “Está bien, amigo. This is the way it’s gonna be.”
The world froze.
Artie barely absorbed the words before Jorge laid it out.
“You are going to take the fall on this, niña. You are. For me, it’s strike three. And I ain’t spendin’ the rest of my life in prison. You? You little privileged white kid? You’ll get a few years. If you are a good little niño, they will let you out so stupid fast. Way sooner than they would an hombre like me. You hearin’ me, pendejo?”
Jorge shoved him again, and the words echoing down through the dark began to fit together. Artie realized what the big guy was saying. Wait! What? No!
“I am twenty-eight years old, jotito. I am not spending the rest of my life behind bars.”
“But I didn’t do anything. Why should I go to jail?” Artie repeated, stunned and disbelieving.
“Because…,” Jorge said. And then for a long moment there was only the sound of crickets. And a train. “Because if you don’t take the blame, I am going to kill you, pinche Artie-Fartie.”
Wait. What? Sweat beaded across Artie’s forehead. He felt some trickling down his ribs on his right side.
“I’m going to take this gun—” Jorge lifted his coat, something cheap from Walmart, not the expensive jacket August would have worn, but no less threatening. “—and I am going to blow your puto head off. Your choice, mi amigo. You don’t take the blame, and I fucking kill you. Or better yet…I kill your family.”
Dear God! Kill him? Kill his family?
What was he going to do?
And then he knew. Despite what August had told him to do, he knew he was going to have to fun. He only hoped and prayed that August would understand.
Because for the first time in his life, Artie felt he might just have finally met his man….
And hey, after you’re done reading it, I would love to hear what you think!
Love, Namaste, and Happy Holidays!
BG “Ben” Thomas
B.G. Thomas lives in Kansas City with his husband of more than a decade and their fabulous dogs Sarah Jane and Oliver. He is blessed to have a lovely daughter as well as many extraordinary friends. He has a great passion for life.
B.G. loves romance, comedies, fantasy, science fiction, and even horror—as far as he is concerned, as long as the stories are character driven and entertaining, it doesn’t matter the genre. He has gone to literature conventions his entire adult life where he’s been lucky enough to meet many of his favorite writers. He has made up stories since he was a child; it is where he finds his joy.
In the nineties, he wrote for gay adult magazines but stopped because the editors wanted all sex without plot. “The sex is never as important as the characters,” he says. “Who cares what they are doing if we don’t care about them?” Excited about the growing male/male romance market, he began writing again. He submitted a novella and was thrilled when it was accepted in four days. Since then the romantic tales have poured out of him. “It’s like I’m somehow making up for a lifetime’s worth of story-telling!”
In 2015 he made an entry every day in his blog “365 Days of Silver,” where he found something every day to be grateful for. You can find it right here: https://365daysofsilver.wordpress.com/
“Leap, and the net will appear” is his personal philosophy and his message. “It is never too late,” he testifies. “Pursue your dreams. They will come true!”