Thursday, February 28, 2019

Author Of The Month - Geoffrey Knight - Grand Finale

Welcome to our Grand Finale celebrations for the amazing 

In our final post, we're going to look at Geoffrey's gay adventure novels: The Fathom's Five series and Scott Sapphire And The Emerald Orchid. We also have our author interview and one more chance to win one of Geoffrey's books.

First up, The Cross Of Sins


Somewhere in the world is a statue so sinful that a secret sect of the Church wants it destroyed at any cost. Somewhere in the Turkish desert, in the streets of London, and in the depths of Venice, are the clues to find it. And, somewhere in the hearts of five sexy, daring, thrill-seeking gay men, is the courage and die-hard determination to unravel one of the greatest mysteries of all time.

Meet Luca da Roma, an Italian model and expert in art, both ancient and modern; Dr. Eden Santiago, Brazilian biologist, physician and genetic engineer; Shane Houston, a Texas cowboy and an expert in cartography; Will Hunter, a San Diego college student and football star, majoring in ancient history; and Shane Stone, an adventurer-for-hire from New York and the newest member of Professor Fathom's team of hot gay adventure seekers.


The sound of a bottle of Bulgarian vodka—no label, no brand, nothing but the potent forces of a peasant family’s labor inside—makes a much different sound clanging against an eighteenth-century-old door than the knuckles of a man’s hand. The young Italian heard footsteps inside somewhere, clambering down a set of stairs. The door opened. The face of a man in his late forties, unshaven, unkempt, but still—as always—in his own way handsome, looked up in sweet surprise.
“Luca? Luca da Roma?” Marco had dark brown eyes that seemed to deepen as he smiled at the sight of Luca. Gentle lines creased his forehead and the skin around his eyes. “I must be drunk!”
Luca, the young Italian, smiled back at his old friend and lover. “No, Marco.” He raised the bottle of vodka. “But you will be soon.”
For a moment, the two men stood looking at each other, smiling. “You’ve cut your hair.” Marco reached out and ruffled Luca’s medium-length brown hair. “It’s been such a long time. Three years?”
“You look good. You always did. Come! Come inside!”
Marco led Luca up an old set of creaking, cracked stairs, into a dusty old loft attic with large arched windows that overlooked the village of Vita Sola and the pale green plains that vanished into a white horizon. “The light,” Marco said. “I love this place for the light.”
“It’s good light.” Luca looked around the attic. There were canvases, dozens upon dozens of them, propped against every available inch of wall space. Luca noticed that not a single one of the canvases was finished.
Marco held the smile on his face, but he knew that Luca knew him all too well, and slowly the smile turned into a shrug. “Even if the work isn’t, the light is good. Inspiration,” he said. “It comes and it goes, that’s the nature of the beast. You know, I had a muse once, someone who made painting easy, too easy, as though the mere sight of him moved the brush for me, and chose the colors, and so gracefully, so lovingly placed each stroke.” Marco turned and began rifling through a stack of leaning canvases. He pulled one out. It was complete—old and dusty. With a gentle breath, Marco blew the age off and looked upon it proudly.
Luca couldn’t see the painting, but knew Marco was looking at one of the portraits he had done of the young Italian. He could only guess which one—there had been so many. “The balcony in Florence, overlooking Il Duomo, am I right?”
Marco smiled and turned it around for Luca to see.
It was like looking into a mirror of time. Luca looked upon himself, standing naked, head down, one hand resting on the handle of an open door that led out onto a small balcony. Behind him, the famous dome of Florence stood against a cloud-clustered sky. Suddenly, the memory of that day came back to him in a swirl of small details. The coffee he had burned on the stove. The empty wine bottles from the night before still on the floor by the bed. Evidence that during the night, after they had made love, once they were sleeping soundly, a mouse had done his best to finish off the bread and cheese they had left on the table.
“It was the day after your twentieth birthday,” Marco said.
Luca was twenty-six now. Where had the years gone? “It was the first painting you did of me.”
“I hoped—still hope—there will never be a last.”
Luca turned and helped himself to the cupboards in the small kitchenette in one corner of the loft. He found two mismatched glasses and wiped the dust off them with his fingers. He set the bottle of vodka on a small table that stood in the middle of the room. “You haven’t asked me what I’m doing here.”
“I didn’t want to have to.”
The two men each pulled up a chair at the table. Luca poured them each a generous glass of vodka. Marco took a gulp and smiled. “From old man Zabriski’s farm,” he commented approvingly.
“I kept a few bottles.”
“So you’ve come to get me drunk. To take advantage of me. You’re copying my old tactics.”
“I need some information. You’re the only person I can trust to ask.”
“Are you in trouble?”
Luca raised his glass with a grin. “Not yet. But I’ll find some.”
Marco laughed. “I’m certain of it. That’s what I miss, a little adventure. I thought I moved to this village to find myself, but I was running away. I craved inspiration, while all you craved was chaos. I miss that now. I miss your little games.”
“Then let’s play,” Luca smirked. He clinked his glass against Marco’s, and the two men polished off their first drink together in over five years. Luca put down his glass, took off his jacket and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and then filled up their glasses once more.
Marco raised one eyebrow. “Ah, the conversation game,” he grinned. “My favorite. So tell me, what is it you’re after this time?”
“A statue. Sixteenth Century. Have you ever heard of The Naked Christ?”
Marco nodded. “Heard of it, yes. But have I seen it? No. I don’t know of anyone who ever has. It was lost, wiped from history. Just like Videlle, the artist who sculpted it.”
“He was murdered,” Luca said. “I know that much.”
“Not simply murdered. He was tortured for what he did. They sliced out his eyes. They cut off his hands. And while he was still alive, they strung him up in the middle of Piazza della Signoria and disemboweled him. Creating an image of Christ on the crucifix, completely naked, who would dare! Christ with a cock! It was unheard of! It was a sin punishable by death. They condemned Videlle to eternity in hell for what he did.”
“They, being the Church?”
Marco paused a moment and grinned. “The Church has many factions. It wears more than one mask. Faith has many faces.” The artist raised his glass, and the two emptied their drinks.
Luca sat back and undid another button.

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Book 2, The Riddle Of The Sands


The clock is ticking! Blackmailed by Jake's nemesis - the vengeful Pierre Perron - Professor Fathom's team of five horny gay adventurers is sent on a seemingly impossible mission to uncover the legendary Riddle of the Sands in order to save one of their own from a rare and deadly poison. But what is the Riddle of the Sands? Where are the long-lost clues and hidden maps that can lead to its whereabouts?

Is it a myth, a mirage, or the greatest engineering feat in the history of ancient Egypt? From the icy plains of Siberia to the shadowy bathhouses of Cairo, from the scorching valley of the Nile to the heart of the Amazon jungle, readers join these hunks — treasure-hunter Jake, Brazilian biologist Eden, Texas cowboy Shane, art expert Luca, and quarterback Will — in a search that blends nonstop action and high-octane sex!

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Also in the series:




Lastly, in today's line-up, Scott Sapphire And The Emerald Orchid


Meet Scott Sapphire—lover of French champagne, Belgian chocolate and dangerous men. He is suave. He is sexy. He is a man of the world—and a man that the world desperately wants to catch.

For Scott Sapphire is the greatest jewel thief of our time. Dashing. Daring. And always neck-deep in trouble.

But when Scott’s latest heist lands him in possession of a map to a rare and precious orchid, it’ll take more than bedroom eyes and a charming smile to stay one step ahead of one of the world’s most powerful business tycoons, as well as keep the CIA off Scott’s back and a handsome special agent out of his pants—or maybe not.

From the Venice canals to the Amazon rainforest, from Rio de Janeiro to the casinos of Monte Carlo, comes a brand new gay hero as irresistible as diamonds and pearls.

Adventure has a new name! And that name is Scott Sapphire.


The distant song of a gondolier—a happy, melodramatic solo of La Traviata’s Libiamo Ne’ Lieti Calici, as only a gondolier can do it justice—echoed through the canals and drifted through the open balcony doors of the stranger’s hotel room, but Jake Stone didn’t even hear it. All he heard was his own desperate panting, the rush of adrenaline in his temples, the pounding of his heart, the wet, hungry sounds of lips crushing and sucking, tongues exploring and licking and diving in deep.
The young man on the receiving end of Jake’s wild, ravenous kisses was handsome, and his cock was just as hard as Jake’s. His hair was as black as a moonless night, the kind of night that was perfect for a crime. His eyes were so blue, so piercing; if they had been jewels, they would have fetched a fortune.
But Jake was in Venice for a different kind of treasure.
And this beautiful young specimen of a man was going to help him get his hands on it—without even knowing.
In the meantime—
Jake forced the handsome young man backward, their hips pushing and grinding against one another. Both men were still dressed, each wearing a suit jacket, shirt, tie, trousers with a straining bulge in the crotch. Jake fumbled with the stranger’s tie, at the same time shoving him hard against the hotel room dresser.
The open bottle of 1995 Clos du Mesnil Krug Champagne that they had ordered from room service took the force of the blow, teetering and swirling before dropping off the edge of the dresser. It had been sitting beside a silver tray containing two crystal flutes and the plate of Doux Baiser Belgian chocolates.
In a flash, the blue-eyed man’s hand shot out and caught the bottle of champagne, not clumsily by the neck of the bottle, but gracefully by its solid round base, his movement so swift, so smooth, Jake raised an eyebrow, impressed.
“We don’t want to waste that,” the young man said in an accent that may have been British. Or American. Or something entirely different.
Having caught the bottle, the black-haired man took the opportunity to top up the two champagne glasses on the silver tray. He took a sip of his own before sharing it with Jake, and then placed the glass back on the tray and said, “Might I suggest we head in the opposite direction to avoid any more potential spills?”
With that, he shoved Jake hard, his body weight and strength arguably equal to that of Jake’s, forcing him backward toward the bed.
The back of Jake’s legs hit the edge of the mattress.
He felt himself falling backward.
Suddenly, the young man caught him by his tie.
It snapped tight, catching Jake on a 45 degree angle, suspending him between the bed and the man he wanted in it. As he teetered there—like a bottle of champagne caught at the last second—all Jake could ask was, “Who the hell are you?”
The blue-eyed man smiled. “My name’s Scott. Scott Sapphire. I work in Mergers & Acquisitions, here on business. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be distracted by a little pleasure.” His free hand seized Jake by his throbbing crotch, squeezing it hard as he sized it up with a smile. “Or should I say, a rather large pleasure.”
He let go of both crotch and tie at the same time and let Jake bounce onto the bed. Instantly, Scott climbed on top, straddling Jake’s powerful body, their crotches once again writhing and pushing into one another.
Desperately Jake wanted—needed—to be naked.
But Scott was already on the case, hauling and tugging at Jake’s tie, pulling it free. He snapped Jake’s jacket off, shoulders first, before stripping it from both arms. He hurled it across the room. It snagged briefly on the handle of the open bathroom door before parachuting to the classically tiled Venetian floor.
Scott ripped open Jake’s shirt, and two buttons shot through the air.
His reckless desire made Jake even hornier. He grabbed the raven locks of Scott’s hair and thrust his tongue even deeper in the young businessman’s wet, wild mouth.
When he finally came up for air Jake said, “I’m supposed to wear this shirt to an exhibition opening in an hour’s time.”
Scott responded by taking the shirt in both hands once again and tearing it open all the way, buttons firing across the room like bullets. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of shirts. You can have one of mine.” Approvingly, he eyed Jake’s now exposed torso, his sparsely-haired muscled chest, his heaving abs. “You look like you’re just about my size.”
Jake smiled. He had thought exactly the same thing the minute he’d first laid eyes on the handsome stranger three hours earlier in the Piazza San Marco.
Jake had been sitting at a table sipping coffee, eying off the waiters, the tourists, any man who met his checklist.
Around six feet tall.
Short black hair.
Blue eyes.
Broad shoulders.
Just like Jake himself.
Suddenly, a few feet in front of him, a storm of pigeons took to the late afternoon skies as a smartly-dressed stranger in a suit stumbled on a crack in one of the piazza’s pavers and fell right toward Jake.
Jake leaped up from his chair and caught the man just before he crashed to the ground.
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re American,” the stranger observed.
You’re perfect, Jake thought.
Now in a hotel room of the Casanova Hotel in Castello, a short walk from the piazza, Jake sat up, his shirt ripped open, and grinned. “Plenty, you say?” With that he seized Scott’s shirt by the collar and ripped with all his strength, wrenching it open from his neck to the belt of his trousers, leaving nothing but Scott’s flapping pink tie to cover his smooth, perfectly-sculpted torso.

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Author Interview:

Q: What inspires you? What gets you writing?

A: The right circumstances inspire me. I’d love to be one of those authors who can write anywhere at any time, but unfortunately I’m not. I need my own space (preferably my study). I need to have NOBODY else in the house. I need to have my music playing (I make a specific playlist for every story I write). And I need to have a good chunk of time, preferably four hours or more, and preferably without any commitments following that chunk of time. If I can tick all those boxes, I can write just about anything. I’ve always got four or five WIPs going at any one time so finding the story to write is never an issue. It’s all about creating the perfect space that inspires me most.

Q: What's your writing process? Seat of your pants, lots of sticky notes, complex spreadsheets?

A: I have tried seat-of-your-pants so many times and I simply cannot do it! When I started writing I mostly did screenplays. Structure is everything in a screenplay, there’s no room to meander or divert. Every scene must be plotted out precisely. That rubbed off onto my novel-writing. Now every time I write I need at least two pages of Plot Points so I know exactly what’s about to unfold and where my characters are going. Without it I just stare at a blank screen getting nowhere fast.

Q: Which character from your books is your favorite, and why?

A: Oh that’s like asking a parent to pick a favorite child! It’s utterly impossible. If I could give a Top 3 though that might make the task easier ;) I’d definitely have to say that Buck Baxter from ‘Buck Baxter, Love Detective’ would have to be in there. He’s a classic 1920s detective type who’s made all the more interesting thanks to his penchant for screwing hot guys, his addiction to gin and opium, and his love-hate relationship with his pint-sized friend and informant Stella. He’s a tough guy with a very vulnerable side to him, and he desperately wants to find true love. Fortunately he manages to do so when playboy millionaire Holden Hart arrives in town.

I’d also have to add Jarrah (Jad) from my romance ‘The Pearl’ to my list of favorites. Jad is a young half-Aboriginal boy who grows up in Australia’s top end diving for pearls with his best friend Luke. As the boys grow to become young men they fall in love, but life throws them one challenge after another and Jad must learn to navigate his journey through his heritage and his sexuality to finally discover who he is and where he belongs. It’s all set against the dramatic backdrop of the Australian Outback which is obviously a setting I know well and adore. I wanted to write something almost poetic and spiritual, and young Jad guided my hand the whole way through that epic journey.

And lastly, I totally love love love Mrs. Mulroney from ‘The Billionaire’s Boyfriend’. She’s the best friend and boss of the main character Matt. She’s a drunken, tell-it-like-it-is Irishwoman who comes out with the most hilarious lines, I swear it’s almost like I didn’t even write them, she’s so alive and loud and brash in my head she just comes out with those clangers all on her own!

Q: Which character is your least favorite, and why?

A: I have to say I like all my characters because they’re all there for a reason. But I know which characters readers like the least and that’s definitely Bethany, the sister-in-law in my short drama ‘And The Beagle Makes Three’. That story is all about dealing with loss and grief and the way Bethany’s character deals with it is to cast blame and hide behind layers of superficiality and pretence. That really grated on some readers’ nerves, but it was supposed to. That was the whole point of her characters, to be the villain and then to find her own redemption. Personally, I loved writing her character. There was a real depth to unveil beneath all that superficiality. Plus I think she’s quite real, I think there are a lot of people in this world who hide their pain behind some very unlikeable personality traits.

Q: If you could go back into one of your books and change one thing, what would that be? And why?

A: Mmmm, I think I’d make the fourth Fathom’s Five book – The Tomb of Heaven – longer. It was initially not supposed to happen at all. The fifth book – The Temple of Time – was originally supposed to be book number four. But I realised I had too many plot points at the start of Temple of Time which would have made the start of the book too clunky – namely the reintroduction of Shane’s boyfriend Daniel. Working that into the start of Temple of Time would have been far too time-consuming. And so I decided to write a novella and make that the fourth book. I still really like that story a lot, but I think I could have explored more and brought in all the Fathom’s Five heroes instead of only keeping it to three of them. But it’s part of the canon now, so be it.

Q: What's next for you? What amazing book are you working on?

A: I’m currently working on a taboo MM romance called The Pathfinders which is due out at the end of March. It’s the story of two cousins and best friends, Jack and Hux. Jack is going through a divorce from his wife so Hux invites him to a cabin by the lake that he’s fixing up. Hux has a huge crush on his cousin but has never let his feelings show, but after a few days by the lake the true feelings of each of them begin to surface. It’s all about forbidden love and finding your own path in life (hence the title) instead of letting other people choose your path. It’s sweet and romantic and super hot (I hope).

Q: Anything else you'd like to share with your readers?

A: If you’ve never tried any of my books before, there’s pretty much something for everyone… or at least every mood. I love to switch sub-genres, I find it keeps my writing fresh, so if you’re in the mood for romance or adventure or comedy or a thriller or something short and sweet, hopefully you’ll find something you like. Happy reading!

About the author:

Geoffrey Knight is the author of more than 25 gay fiction novels, novellas and short stories, ranging in genre from gay adventure, gay romance, gay suspense and gay comedies. He is the recipient of two Rainbow Awards including Best Mystery Winner and Best Overall Gay Fiction Runner-up. His work has been featured in several anthologies including Best Gay Erotica 2013, and he appeared as Guest of Honor at the inaugural Rainbow Con in Florida, 2014.

Geoffrey has worked in advertising, politics and journalism, but nothing is as fun as telling stories. He lives with his partner, their young daughter and their small furry family in a rambling old house in North Queensland, Australia, where the paint is fraying and life is good.

Connect with him via his Amazon profile.


Thanks for celebrating this fabulous author with us throughout February. We hope you found a few more books for your TBR and learned some cool facts about Geoffrey Knight.

Until next time, happy reading!


  1. I'm looking forward to the Pathfinders. Friends to lovers, forced proximity, a little taboo and GFY/OFY? Sign me up!

  2. Thank you for the interview. The books all have great cover and sound like wonderful reads.


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