Welcome to our first week of celebrations for the wonderful and amazing
We're super excited to have Eli with us this month. Are you ready to celebrate??
Our first post will be about the two Christmas books that Eli has written, the first one being BLAME IT ON THE MISTLETOE
When physics grad student Fielding Monroe and skirt-chaser and football player Mick Colman become college housemates, they’re both in for a whole new education. Mick looks out for the absent-minded genius, and he helps Fielding clean up his appearance and discover all the silly pleasures his strict upbringing as a child prodigy denied him. They become best friends.
It’s all well and good until they run into a cheerleader who calls Mick the ‘best kisser on campus.’ Fielding has never been kissed, and he decides Mick and only Mick can teach him how it’s done. After all, the physics department’s Christmas party is coming up with its dreaded mistletoe. Fielding wants to impress his peers and look cool for once in his life. The thing about Fielding is, once he locks onto an idea, it’s almost impossible to get him to change his mind. And he just doesn't understand why his straight best friend would have a problem providing a little demonstration.
Mick knows kissing is a dangerous game. If he gives in, it would take a miracle for the thing not to turn into a disaster. Then again, if the kissing lessons get out of hand they can always blame it on the mistletoe.
Fielding ate the chicken-broccoli-mushroom mix in less than five minutes, as usual, but he seemed distracted as Mick tried to make small talk, his mind clearly on something else. Mick gave up and started to clear the plates. That’s when the bomb was dropped.
“I want you to teach me how to kiss,” Fielding said in his most arrogant voice. It came out as a demand, like Fetch me the lamp from the sideboard, wench.
Mick froze, his hands full of dishes. He made himself take them to the sink and put them down carefully before responding. He went back to the table and sat down. Fielding was staring at him, arms folded over his chest.
“No,” Mick said.
“May I ask why not?”
“Because that’s not going to happen.” Mick thought he sounded remarkably calm. In fact, he gave himself a checkmark in the ‘saint’ box for not socking Fielding in the face or laughing his head off.
“But Regina said you have a reputation as the best kisser on campus.”
“I think I’ll have a beer. You want a beer?” Mick stood up abruptly.
“It’s Tuesday,” Fielding said, as if Mick should know better. And he did.
Fielding never drank during the week. He was a light-weight, and even one beer could make him too fuzzy-headed to study.
Mick didn’t usually either. But fuck, he needed a beer.
He grabbed one from the fridge and cracked it open. He turned to find that Fielding had followed him into the kitchen.
“Well? Is there a problem with my request?”
Mick took a long drink. “The problem is, it’s not going to happen.”
“Ooh, how convincing. You’ve changed my mind with your superior argument,” Fielding mocked.
Mick stalked back out into the living room.
Fielding followed. “Why not?”
“Because I said no.”
“That’s not an answer. Tell me why not,” Fielding demanded.
Mick sighed and looked at his friend. He reminded himself that Fielding wasn’t a normal guy. He just didn’t get things like social cues. He was a fucking genius with an IQ somewhere in the stratosphere, but he’d grown up being suffocatingly sheltered and shuttled from school to lessons to workshops. He could speak French and Russian and played the piano like a prodigy, but as far as Mick could tell, he’d had few friends. So he probably had no idea how out of line his request was.
“Because, Fielding, I’m not gay,” Mick said firmly, “which you’ve probably figured out by now, being my roommate. That means I don’t kiss other men.”
Fielding looked confused. “I’m not asking you to kiss me because you want to. I’m talking about a simple transference of skills. The way you taught me running.”
Mick had taught Fielding to run. He ran three miles every morning and now Fielding ran with him. Without prodding from Mick, Fielding would probably never leave his computer, and that much sitting wasn’t healthy for anyone.
“My teaching you the basics of running didn’t involve putting my tongue in your mouth. That is what you’re talking about, right? You’re not asking me to draw you diagrams or maybe talk you through it on a crash dummy!” Mick was getting a little beligerent.
Fielding arched a droll eyebrow. “One assumes a direct demonstration would be necessary, yes.”
Get the book:
The second Christmas story is UNWRAPPING HANK
Sloane loves a good mystery. He grew up as the son of two psychiatrists, so he finds most people tediously easy to figure out. He finds his way to Pennsylvania State University, longing for a rural experience, and ends up being lured into joining a frat by Micah Springfield, the hippest guy on campus.
Nothing in Sloane’s classes is as intriguing as Hank Springfield, Micah’s brother and fellow frat house member. Hank looks like a tough guy—big muscles, tatts, and a beard—but his eyes are soft and sweet. He acts dumb, but he’s a philosophy major. He’s presumably straight, but then why does Sloane feel such crazy chemistry whenever Hank is around? And why does Hank hate Sloane so much?
When Sloane ends up stuck on campus over Christmas, Micah invites him to spend the holidays at their family farm in Amish country. It’s a chance to experience a true Americana Christmas--and further investigate the mystery that is Hank Springfield. Can Sloane unlock the secrets of this family and unwrap the heart hidden inside the beefcake?
I was really getting into the video and just starting to rub my hand over my hardening dick, which was still in my jeans, when a big paw pounded on the door and then it flew open.
“Hey, Frenchie!” Hank bellowed as loud as he possibly could. His beard was damp, and he was in comfy sweats, like he’d just gotten out of the shower.
I sat up quickly, discreetly hiding my boner and hitting PAUSE on the video.
“What are you watching?” Hank asked suspiciously, looking me up and down.
I turned the computer so he could see it. “Inspector Lynley.”
Hank huffed a laugh. “You jerk off to Masterpiece Mystery? Wait. Of course you do.”
“Guess Lynley is kind of cute.”
“It’s not—” Hank was Satan. The Prince of Humiliation. I could see that now. “I’m just a good multitasker, okay? I like watching mysteries, and I like… that. It’s simply an efficient use of my time to do them together. ‘Comfort layering’ if you will.” I waved my hands in the air in a vaguely descriptive manner.
“Sure. I get it. Like my mom knits when she watches TV.”
He plopped down on the bed. “What about Inspector Morse? He get you off? Or is he too old?”
I picked up a pillow and smacked him in the head with it. “I don’t actually recall inviting you in here, Hank.”
“Yeah, payback’s a bitch. I saw the first season of this awhile back. What’s this one?” He nudged his chin toward the screen and tried to sound all casual. But he looked like a dog gazing in the window of a chicken hatchery.
“It’s, um, the start of season three. You can, uh…” I trailed off, eyebrows in my hairline, waiting for the ‘ha ha gotcha’ to come. But he just avoided my gaze and looked around the room nervously.
“I can… turn this off, and we can talk about the party? Or you can… watch it with me?”
“Watch,” Hank said decisively. He shoved himself up against the headboard and thrust his legs out, which was a trick, because me and my laptop were already on the bed and he wasn’t small. “Anything to avoid talking about the party.” He made a gagging gesture.
“They’re watching Terminator downstairs,” I pointed out, though surely he’d walked past it when he came in.
Hank shrugged. He jerked his head at the screen again in a silent command.
I started the video. I managed to keep my hands off any and all sexual appendages—his or mine.
Get the book:
And now, a short list of Eli's favorite things:
Beer: Corona with lime
Movies: 70’s horror films
Pets: Bulldogs! (we have 3)
Music: The Scarlet Furies (my husband and stepdaughter’s band)
Computers: PC / My Alienware Laptop
EReaders: My Ipad 3
Outdoor activity: Hiking
Favorite place to travel: England (love walking in the countryside)
Favorite clothing brand: When I’m home I live in Land’s End and Old Navy
More about Eli:
Having been, at various times and under different names, a minister’s daughter, a computer programmer, the author of paranormal mysteries, a game designer, an organic farmer, an avid hiker, and a profound sleeper, Eli is happily embarking on yet another incarnation as a m/m romance author.
As an addicted reader of such, she is tinkled pink when an author manages to combine literary merit, vast stores of humor, melting hotness and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story. She promises to strive to achieve most of that most of the time. She currently lives on a farm in Pennsylvania with her husband, three bulldogs, three cows and six chickens. All of them (except for the husband) are female, hence explaining the naked men that have taken up residence in her latest fiction writing.
Thanks for joining us today. Come back next week for more of Eli's book, five little known facts about her, and another chance at winning one of her books! Until then, happy reading!!