Friday, March 31, 2017

(NAUGHTY) SISTER'S WISDOM



During a critical moment in WAND-LOSING & OTHER THINGS YOU SHOULDN'T BE DOING, Rezzu goes to his sister for answers. Here's what happens.


“I have no answer for that.” Keda Enoa Ki Muselet, future queen of Mireeh and Rezzu’s sister, shook her head. “If you hadn’t run, you wouldn’t have all these questions eating you.”

“So, you’d have stayed to face the man after he had his finger up your ass when you came in his hand?”

Keda Enoa seemed to consider this, tapping her forefinger over her chin. A trait she had picked up from their father, Kekoa Muselet.

Rezzu rolled his eyes. “Are you serious? You have to think about it?”

“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t have put myself in that situation.”

His sister was insufferable sometimes, but she had a point there. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t have shaken her if she were physically in front of him.

“Besides, you are an adult. It’s not like you can’t have sex with a willing man. What’s so special about this governor?”

“I-I am not supposed to do something like that. I-I haven’t…”

Her eyes went wild. “Brother, you are not a virgin, are you?” Her puzzled face was unbearable. “I thought you were knocking boots with that technician on the Logandi!” She was flailing her arms as she walked about her chambers, moving in and out of the screen. “I’m NOT a virgin. How can it be possible that you’re one?!”

“Sister!”

“What?” She stopped her frantic pacing and turned to the screen, catching his astonishment. “Oh, hush. Father said it was natural. How do you know if you like something if you don’t experience it, huh?” She moved closer, flattening her hands on the console, her face occupying almost the entire screen. “Kalhya is so fucking dreamy. Tell me you fucked him, brother. Tell me you did!”

“We… never… actually…”

“Oh, Sweet Meha, what a waste! If I had a cock I’d be putting it in every hole available. WHY AM I NOT A MAN!!!??”

“Would you calm down? This isn’t about you.”

Keda Enoa sobered up. “You are right. What you need to do is stop being a wuss and act normal. It wasn’t a big deal, you two just went with the flow. If I’d seen three hot guys doing it, I’d have totally gotten carried away too.”

“The Alettans think we are here to invade them.” Rezzu wasn’t a wuss. The whole thing had been just a political mistake. He needed a way to clear the air, and his sister wasn’t helping. She was the political strategist, not him.

“But that’s not the case, so what’s your point?”

Rezzu dithered and did not answer.

“OH NO, you like-like him. You like this governor, and that’s why you’re so freaked out!” She jumped and giggled, clapping her hands. “I knew it was something else. You have faced all kinds of dangerous stuff without batting an eye, and this is what’s gonna make you go all wimpy? I knew it. I knew it.”

“Would you stop being obnoxious for a whole standard minute and help me here with what’s really important?”

“And that is…?”

“How do I go about telling him the truth of our mission on his planet?”

In a blink, she was the wise older sister and future queen he needed. “The only way it should be done— complete and without adornments.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re most certainly welcome, Captain,” Keda Enoa uttered, almost aloof. Then with a wicked grin, she giggled. “Now I have to go and tell Father you like-like a boy!” In a flutter of teal and pink, she left the screen empty.

Rezzu pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “I’m not gonna kill her. I am not going to kill her.” He was not a regicide; although, technically, she wasn’t queen yet.


The Colviri normally lived for more than two thousand standard years. At twenty-six and twenty-five, they were just mere children, even if their bodies and minds were of adults. Rezzu should cut his sister some slack; he had more pressing matters to attend to.

*Get your free copy here: http://www.mmromancegroup.com/wand-losing-other-things-you-shouldnt-be-doing-by-gabbo-de-la-parra/

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

THE HANDSOME (NOT TRULY) DOUCHEBAG


A secondary (and yet important) character in SCHADENFREUDE, Phillip N. Eckhard, better known as Eck, is there to entice and inform you in equal measure since he's the hottest newscaster of Meridian.

Here's how he encountered Droser Sundew (one of the main characters of SCHADENFREUDE) for the first time.


The meeting never happened. The guy wasn’t where he was supposed to be, probably spooked by all the commotion at the plaza. Droser neared his building in the east side of Pontus almost two hours later thanks to the pandemonium throughout the city. The last thing Droser expected to encounter was Phillip N. Eckhart interviewing people on his stoop with two recording devices floating around him and covering his every move. The street lights seemed spotlights trained on Eck and his acolytes.

Droser had to do a double-take, not just because, even surrounded by people debating between stress, frustration, and attraction, Eck’s aura remained that of a grounded and self-assured person, but because it had that golden serpent like the auras of Star, Bunny, and the bank teller. Whatever it meant, these four seemingly completely different people shared something in common.

Were they all mutations? Nah, Antha had said there was something preternatural in Star. Were they all related somehow?

Boundaries’ fearmongers approached from the left sidewalk in their white robes and green cords, waving their blood-red signs and chanting some religious nonsense. Their auras trembled with conviction and despair, and they weren’t wrong, the thing they feared the most was a reality. Still, this group had something Droser hadn’t seen before. They all had the same inscription on their cardboard signs: REPENT FOR THE END IS AT HAND. Droser couldn’t shake the feeling he had read that somewhere before. They also had ashes covering their faces. Talk about outré displays.

Anyone would think that when these two groups converged it would become a wailing festival, but Droser saw how the tides veered in a different direction for Eck’s admirers. Soon anger shone dangerously, and they started to boo the white robes. The recording devices moved to record both groups, and Droser sidestepped to avoid the inevitable confrontation. Part of him wanted to witness the morons pummeling each other, but he wanted more to call Orfeo again until the stubborn asshole answered. He needed privacy for that.

Surreptitiously, Droser reached the lobby’s entrance, but against his instincts he turned to look at the unfolding melee (it was too much of a temptation), and caught Eck’s eyes as someone, taking advantage of the chaos, ripped his cotton candy pink shirt apart, pulling him into the fracas. Signs swung, punches flew, and Eck’s eyes begged for help. Droser was ready to leave him to his fate, and he remembered the golden serpent in the reporter’s aura. Maybe it meant something worth knowing, and this was his chance to investigate.

Droser lunged forward, giving silent thanks to his Fae ancestor since the Bardagamaður (one of the few perks of that sprinkle of Supra in him) slowed the movements of the people fighting around him. He maneuvered around the jabs and kicks, grabbing Eck’s thick upper arm and pulling him out of the commotion.

“Secure the doors, none of those people live in this building,” Droser ordered the building’s computer as Eck and he looked at the riot from behind reinforced glass. They saw how the two hovering recorders were used to smash faces. More people were joining both bands, and police sirens could be heard in the distance.

“At once, Mister Sundew,” the computer agreed serenely.

“Thank you. It would have not been good to start punching viewers,” Eck said, heaving.

“Are you kidding me?”

What a pompous jackass. Droser narrowed his eyes as another surprise emerged from Eck’s aura. The man was saying something, and his aura projected a completely different thing. Deep inside, Eck was concerned for the safety of those outside— not for what they would have thought of him if he had violently defended himself

Your aura revealed your state of mind, and very few people were able to contradict with their mouths what their auras showed brightly. Droser got distracted by the tribal sun circling Eck’s right nipple. His eyes moved lower, and there were words tattooed, like the stanza of a poem or the chorus of a song (because it had a certain rhythm to it), but it wasn’t English. On the left flank, the face of a lion stared back at him menacingly, his mane flowing toward the center Eck’s defined abs.

“Ahem.” Eck cleared his throat. “As much as I appreciate you ogling me with such enthusiasm, it would be nice if we could go to your apartment so I could borrow a shirt or something.”

“There was no enthusiasm,” Droser uttered harshly.

Eck arched an eyebrow. “If you say so.” He didn’t physically shrug, but his voice was a blatant shrug.

“I can still throw you outside to join your viewers.”

“That would be most disappointing.” Eck winked.

“Save your charm for someone who might actually enjoy it. C’mon.”

They walked toward the bay of elevators. They entered, and, as the door slid close, Droser kept his eyes pointedly forward after he put his thumb on the recognition pad, and the metal cage sped upward. He could feel Eck’s eyes on him, though.

“You’re cute.”

“You haven’t seen my shotguns.”

“Is that a proposition?”

The mirth in Eck’s voice was sunny and preposterous. Droser remained looking forward. “You’re not my type.”

“I am everybody’s type.”

“And I’m not everybody.”

“Touché.” Eck chuckled.

Since Droser wanted Eck to cooperate when he started questioning him, he came up with a peace offering, even though Droser could always drug Eck’s ass with a cool truth serum he had stashed in his interrogation kit. “What are those tattooed words?” Droser asked, as the doors opened on the seventieth floor and they exited the elevator, turning right to his apartment.

“It’s the first stanza of Baudelaire’s ‘The Cat’,” Eck offered proudly.

“You have it in French.”

“Of course, all the known translations are rubbish. Besides Je parle parfaitement le français.”

“The only thing I can shoot in French is Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? And everybody knows that.”

Instead of going with the opening Droser had stupidly given, Eck placidly said, “But you are not everybody.”

“You’ve got that one right.” Droser laughed in spite of his reticence to encourage Eck. He thumbed the apartment’s recognition pad.

The door opened, and the house computer greeted him happily, “Welcome back, Droser.” It took a heartbeat to do facial recognition. “Welcome, Mister Eckhart.”

Eck stared at Droser askance— then smirked.

“What? You are on the media all the time. The computer would have recognized Madonna too. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Eck guffawed. “Shit. If Madonna ever comes to your house please give me a call. I’ll be here in a jiffy.”

“Idiot.”

“Ha!”

“I need to make a call.” Droser waved Eck away. “First door to your left. I don’t think I have anything that will actually fit you, but maybe a vest could cover your nipples at least.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure I’ll find something.” Eck smiled and walked toward the bedroom.

His round ass looked good in his navy blue dress pants, but for Droser it was too perky, too in-your-face. There was only one ass worth of occupying his thoughts. He needed to call Orfeo. He activated his communicator and made the request.

Miraculously, Orfeo answered. “Are you all right?” He sounded truly concerned but didn’t activate the image function, and there was loud music in the background. Although, it was not happy music; it was Madonna’s (how déjà vu -ish) First Life “Love Tried to Welcome Me” song.

“I’m good, but that in the background is depression music.”

“Oh shut up. Nick Cave’s ‘O Children’ would have been worse.”

“You do know your depression classics,” Droser chuckled, “and perhaps I have the keys to the gulag. ’Cause your gun is not little, but it’s lovely.”

Droser had to admit he sounded a lot like Eck. That wasn’t a good thing, but something inside him just went cheesy around Orfeo.

“I’m going to hang up if you don’t stop the corniness.”

“You never gave me the chance to say good-bye.”

“Say it then.” Orfeo lost all signs of the original concern in his voice.

“I need to say more than good-bye.”

“What for? The city is going to hell in a basket after the frigging Supras broadcasted Star. People will lose faith in the boundaries and the motherfuckers will attack. We’re leaving before that happens. That growing thing between us doesn’t have a place anymore. Not after what you did and what’s coming.”

“If you’d just give me a chance to prove I’m not a total asshole.”

“Only half?”

“I’m pretty sure you could live with half an asshole beside you.”

“We met at the wrong time, Droser.”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

“That’s what Star says.”

“Then believe her.”

“I’m not going to force it. Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Good-bye.”

“Good-bye?”

“Take care of yourself, Droser. You can be a complete asshole now. So long.” Orfeo disconnected the communication, leaving the dark screen mute.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Droser turned around and found Eck staring at him with an uneasy grimace.

“Seems like whatever that was didn’t work out,” Eck said softly.

“It didn’t.”

“Well.” Eck shrugged. “How do I look?”



Some Eck Facts

Born in the Petrarch borough, Eck received his Master’s degree in Communication at the University of Meridian in 2121. A year later he became the first human journalist allowed to do a report on Assignment Day (this is the day in the Vampire Area when roles within the community are distributed and it’s done when humans reach the age of 14). After that story, his career has been steadily upward.
Now he has a show entitled “In Twenty Questions or Less,” where he tackles Meridian and national issues, reporting many times directly from Suprabeing controlled areas. Charismatic and energetic, he supports quite a few charities as a silent contributor. 


Wednesday, March 15, 2017

A CONVERSATION WITH BELLA, DUCHESS OF KITTINGTON






"Dad, why are there no pets in your stories?" Bella asks. 

"Hmmm... never really thought about that before..." 

"Well, I think it is time you have a cat character. I wouldn't mind being your inspiration... Especially for that one with all the guns and explosions..." Bella looks at her left front paw, exposing a nasty, daddy-scratching claw. 

"So, you want to be in ARZANALE?" 

"One of the big guys looks kind of Russian. It would be a nice cliché if he has a Russian Blue kitty..." Bella arches the muscle over her eye ('cause cats don't have eyebrows...), and her whiskers twitch condescendingly. 

"He's Belgian!" 

Bella rolls her eyes. "Europe— same difference." She shrugs. 

"I'll think about it..." 

"You can use Chance in the one with the blimps..." Bella nods toward Chance, who's quietly pondering the mysteries of the universe, eyes closed, portraying a very convincing statue. 

"Clockwork Vendetta?" 

"That's the one. They could use a fluffy thing like him to soften all that lion testosterone." 

"Shouldn't you be in that one? They have feline gods' temples." 

"Nah. I'll be lost amid all those claws and manes and roars. I'd rather be where I'm more visible. Shame you're not writing anything with witches. I'd totally crush it as a familiar." Bella narrows her eyes as if I am unable to get an undisguised hint. 

"But you are my familiar!" 

"Dad," Bella looks at me like I need to be petted, "being your familiar is not my day job. It's a hustle..." 

#Bella #cat #kitty #daddysgirl #dog #Maltese #familiar #dayjob #hustle #fictionalcharacter #gabbodelaparra

Sunday, March 5, 2017

THE TRIADS ARE COMING



What do you get when you put together fifteen guys from different universes and genres?

Lots of fun!

Spring is approaching fast, and, although there is no definitive date for BRIDEGROOM FROM HEAVEN’s relaunch— the hour is near.

I put together this little image because that’s how the guys are in my head, all together and having fun until I call them to work on their respective stories. Sometimes I don’t know what the other twelve are doing while I work with three, and I honestly hope there is no hanky-panky amongst them ‘cause they are supposed to behave.

Now, the thing is, to me they are actors playing a role, and, perhaps, when they are out of “character” they mingle deeply with the other guys. Maybe a lot of butt pinching and squeezing is happening in that picture, and we are unaware of all the mischievous fingers and hands doing only Universe knows back there.

I’m going to leave you marinating that idea until the first story (or another random blog post) comes out.


And just to add a couple of naughty ingredients to that marinade, which characters of different stories do you thing are more likely to hook up?

Cheers!

Saturday, February 11, 2017

WE HAVE A WINNER!


I had the most awesome conversation with this participant after notifying him about the win. He chose to be included in the book simply as Malthus, Bosco's best friend. His story is very interesting, and it has a lot to do with situations happening in our world today, even if Clockwork Vendetta happens in an alternative universe.

So far, you know the story of our three heroes revolves around mob families keeping peace through marriage contracts, and homosexuality is not an issue (because the morals of their universe are not based on religion but on Humanism). But this Mafia surged because its members are more than humans; they are lion shifters, divided into three prides. Bosco, Heer, and Duncan are the heir apparent of each pride.

Still, it’s in our nature to fear what is different, and, often times, we destroy what we don’t comprehend. Here’s where Malthus’s character comes to challenge the status quo. He’s the first male shifter in a hundred years to change into a lioness.

This duality of genders is what makes Malthus a complicated subject for many members of Bosco’s pride. Nevertheless, his friendship with the heir apparent of the pride gives him a de facto protection that by the end of the book will become well-earned respect in all three prides.

There’s such beauty in the simplicity of Malthus’s words to Bosco: something familiar and welcoming can become destructive when damaged. His words send chills down my spine the first time I read them because I understood their power and how current they are. And I have the perfect setting to use them within the book already.

Congratulation, Malthus!!!

#CLOCKWORKVENDETTA #becomeacharacter #contest #winner #fiction #mmromance #threesome #triad #gay #menofgabbo #steampunk #bookstagrammers #ebooks #2017 #yearofthetriads #authorsofinstagram #writersmotivation #gabbodelaparra

Monday, February 6, 2017

THE NAMING OF THE SMALLS

(extract from The Pompeiian Horse)



MARCH

Six young men came into The Zoo’s courtyard completely naked. They had hair on all the right places, so Horse was sure they were of age, just looked young. Scando was a rat, but not a pervert. Besides, if he got caught with underage whores, he could lose his business. The “larges” were equally nude, and Ox and Tiger were already semi-hard. Horse shook his head.

Scando stood with two baskets in the middle of the space, one in each hand. “All right, my ‘smalls,’ pick a ribbon to see which of the ‘larges’ will be your tutor.” They guys moved forward and started to choose ribbons, all of different colors. Once they finished, Scando put that basket on the floor. “Until your tutors give you a name, we’ll call you by the color you’ve chosen and you need to wear them around your head. If I catch you without your ribbons you’ll be punished. Understand?”

The six “smalls” nodded in agreement and tied the ribbons over their foreheads. The darker of the two dark-skinned boys (he had gotten the pink ribbon) seemed to want to ask something, but one look from Scando appropriately discouraged him.

“Come on and get your boys, my brutes.” Scando pushed the remaining basket forward, a nasty grin on his face.

Lion elbowed his way to get a ribbon first. “Pink,” he said, arching an eyebrow and looking at his charge. “Kind of skinny but nice, plump lips. You’ll do fine.”

Pink smiled a bit too eagerly.

“He’s not for your pleasure but to train him.” Scando waggled a finger at Lion. “Don’t abuse this opportunity.”

Rhino was the next. “Brown!” He waved his ribbon. The other dark-skinned kid was his charge.
Tiger got green. Elephant got black. Ox got red. That left Horse with the blue ribbon. His charge was the only one with truly long hair, and he appeared to be the shiest of the lot. Each charge moved toward their tutors. Blue gave Horse a little smile, his eyes downcast.

“Hello. I’m Horse.”

“I know,” whispered Blue, his voice breaking.

“Now,” Scando called their attention, “we’re gonna do mouth skills first. Here, in the courtyard, all together because the weather is nice and sometimes a customer might want to have more than one of you with him. So, you need to be used to doing things in front of others.” He looked at each pair. “I don’t let customers share one ‘small,’ so no group will gang up on any of you individually.”

“Lucky them. Tiger doesn’t have that same fortune,” hissed Ox.

“Shut it. It’s not my fault those morons wanted to recreate the siege of Emerita Augusta,” growled Tiger under his breath.

Still,” Scando continued, “there could be group gatherings, so you need to be ready for that. Whores can’t be shy.” He gave a pointed look at Blue.

Blue swallowed audibly, his auburn hair sparkled red as he nodded. Horse wanted to punch Scando for singling the kid out on his first day. It wasn’t fair.

One of the house slaves distributed cushions; others brought six high backed chairs. The ‘larges’ sat, their charges kneeling at their feet.

“All of you had done things with men before or you wouldn’t be here otherwise. Harden those cocks and let’s see those mouths working.”

Blue, coincidently, happened to have blue eyes, although a lot lighter than the ribbon around his head. He looked at Horse from lowered lashes, his eyes shining as if he was about to cry. “I am so honored to be at your feet.”

“What? Why?” Horse leaned forward. “You don’t have to say things like that. I’m not a customer. I’m not even comfortable doing this, but, for the time being, it’s our lot in life.”

“It’s not flattery. You’re a hero of this city. What you did for that widow and her family after you were free is something the people of Pompeii could never forget.”

“Gods, kid, don’t say such things. There’s nothing heroic in what I did. It was just the right thing to do at the moment.”

“No other person would have forgone the freedom they’ve just earned to save a low family from slavery. What you did was so selfless, poets will sing your praises long after this city is forgotten.” Blue put his hand on Horse’s cock. “Apollo has granted me a wish. Let me show you the appreciation I feel in my heart for your sacrifice.”

Horse trembled as the hand caressed his cock. The previous words should have drowned all desire, but it was the touch of a man, yes young, but a man nonetheless. He closed his eyes and allowed the sensations to envelop him as the hand pumped his hardness. Soon a tongue left a wet trail over his shaft.

“Pink! You don’t have to be so enthusiastic. You look like you’re enjoying yourself too much!” Scando yelled, breaking part of the spell and making Horse open his eyes.

What he found in front of him (the hollow cheeks, the adoring sky-blue eyes) was disturbing.

And this was just the beginning of the training.

****

Blue was the only Pompeii native of the six “smalls,” but as the days progressed he saw admiration in the eyes of four boys. Pink, on the other hand, scowled every time their eyes met.

“Tiger, what is the name you’re giving to your ‘small’?” asked Scando once the training had been completed.

“Squirrel,” Tiger said, winking at his charge, who made a funny gesture, pulling his hands to his mouth in the guise of his namesake as if gnawing on something.

The group laughed, even Scando. Squirrel could pass for Blue’s brother, although he had shorter hair and his muscles were all veiny and developed. The only thing marking him as a youngling was his boyish face.

“Rhino, yours?”

“Dormouse,” Rhino exclaimed, grabbed his “small” and lifted him by the armpits like someone showing a prize. The boy, formally known as Brown, took a bow with a flourish as he was settled back on the floor. What Horse had mistaken for naturally dark skin was the result of many months working at a farm from where he’d escaped with only a very deep tan as reward from the experience.

“Elephant?” asked Scando.

“Have you seen these fair eyes and black hair? Since he can’t be a panther, I name him Cat!” Elephant took the kid by the shoulders with his long arm and smashed him to his side, shaking him jovially.

Cat licked the back of his hand and swept it over his hair as any domesticated feline would and sexily said, “Meow.”

Laughter was riotous this time. Even the slaves, watching the quasi-ceremony, cackled.

“What name do you give Red, my Ox?”

“Well, after much deliberation, seeing his physical qualities and sneaky behavior. You know, that red hair and those big ears,” Ox made a dramatic pause, undisturbed by the groans of the other “larges”, “I’ve only seen an animal like that back in Africa—.”

“Gods! Give up already!” Tiger shouted. “There’re not red animals! Are you crazy?”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.”

“This is not one of your stories,” Scando offered menacingly. “We don’t have all day either.”

“All right, All right. I name him Fox. It’s Fox.” Ox waved his hands in exasperation. “You know Fox rhymes with Ox.”

Scando arched an eyebrow. “I can change that name if I feel he’s gonna be attached to you.”

“Oh, please, master, I really like it,” Fox said calmly. “I’m not attached to Ox here,” he punched the big Numidian’s shoulder, “and I learned my lessons very well. I’ll be a good asset.”

“Fine,” Scando conceded. “You stay Fox, but you better behave. I’ve noticed you’re truly sneaky.”

“Thank you, master.” Fox’s smile was so big it brightened his entire face. The kid was clearly up to something.

Horse chuckled inwardly. Blue, who barely reached Horse’s shoulder, seemed to hear him, and their eyes met. He gave Horse one of those shy smiles.

“Lion what about you?”

“This one is good with his mouth and seems unable to keep it shut, so Parrot it is.”

“True,” said Ox. “Once those African birds have learned to speak you can’t make them shut it.”

Parrot only smirked as if he knew something the other people in the courtyard didn’t. Horse didn’t want to be biased just because the kid had been trained by Lion, his enemy, but there was something darkly odd about him.

All “smalls” seemed to know their names beforehand, but Horse had chosen to keep his decision from Blue until this moment. He wanted to surprise him.

“Well, Horse is your turn. What’s it gonna be?”

Horse looked around the courtyard, and then beaming, settled his eyes on his charge. “Lamb.”

Lamb stared at Horse frozen for several heartbeats. Suddenly, he sprang and wrapped his limbs around Horse, squeezing him and murmuring, “Thank you.”

Surprised by the action, Horse locked eyes with Scando, expecting a discouraging scowl (or worse). But even more unexpected than Lamb’s reaction was Scando’s almost approving grin.



Thursday, February 2, 2017

BECOME A STEAMPUNK NOVEL CHARACTER



Here is the novel’s synopsis

Heer Pyfus, Bosco Rogers, and Duncan Bracco will undo all preconceptions about what it is to rule the industrial mafia as mob families try to keep the peace, uniting through wedding contracts but not by love. Bosco must choose between Heer and Duncan, but things are not always black and white. Secret alliances will emerge and dreams will shatter.

An unsuspected enemy from the other end of the world comes to make their lives more difficult, and they shall fight, not only to survive but to let the organized crime honchos know that love is greater than vengeance.

***

To participate complete the following phrase “A wounded lion is like…”

The best answer will become sidekick, counselor, or BFF to one of the three main characters of #CLOCKWORKVENDETTA, based on your physical attributes and personal preferences. It’s up to you how kickass or intellectual you will be, and you could even use your own or a made up name; the important thing here is— you will be immortalized in a book! Not many people can say a book character was created after them! *All genders welcome!

You have until next Thursday, February 9th. The winner will be revealed Sunday, February 12th.

#becomeacharacter #contest #fiction #mmromance #threesome #triad #gay #menofgabbo #steampunk #bookstagrammers #ebooks #2017 #yearofthetriads #gabbodelaparra