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Twin Angels Jophiel and Ariel are servants of Heaven bound to help the humans of a world headed for ruin. But for them to become the independent Angels they need to be, their bond must first be broken.
Jophiel takes his duties seriously, answering a call from an artist struggling with his dominant, sadistic nature. But Ariel, embittered after being tortured and killed by human captors and returning to Heaven in shame, hesitates. The choice is taken from his hands when he is sent to Earth, wingless and without any memory of who or what he is. Until he regains the faith in the humans he’s meant to help, he’ll never reach his full potential and be readmitted into Heaven. From somewhere within himself, Jophiel must find the courage to let go of his twin and trust Ariel to be strong enough to Rise again… or they will never be together.
A Bittersweet Dreams title: It’s an unfortunate truth: love doesn’t always conquer all. Regardless of its strength, sometimes fate intervenes, tragedy strikes, or forces conspire against it. These stories of romance do not offer a traditional happy ending, but the strong and enduring love will still touch your heart and maybe move you to tears.
Jaime has been writing for various publishers since the fall of 2008, although she’s been writing for herself far longer. Often asked why men; what’s so fascinating about writing stories about men falling in love, she’s never come up with a clear answer. Just that these are the stories that she loves to read, so it seemed to make sense if she was going to write, they should also be the stories she wrote.
These days, you can find plenty of free reading on her website. She also writes for Freya’s Bower, Loveyoudivine Alterotica, Pink Petal Books, Dreamspinner Press and Total E-Bound.
Spare time, when it can be found rolled into a ball at the back of the dryer or cavorting with the dust bunnies in the corners, she’s probably spending reading, drawing, gardening (weather permitting, of course, since she is Canadian!) or watching movies. Well. She has a day job or two, as well, and two kids, but thankfully, also a wonderful husband who shoulders more than his fair share of household and child care responsibilities.
She graduated some time ago from college with a Fine Arts diploma, with a major in textile arts, which basically qualifies her to draw pictures and create things with string and fabric. One always needs an official slip of paper to fall back on after all….
- Website: http://jaime-samms.net/
- facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000982219151&ref=tn_tnmn
- Livejournal: http://dontkickmycane.livejournal.com/
- Deviantart: http://dontkickmycane.deviantart.com/
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/JaimeSamms
- Amazon Author page: amazon.com/author/jaimesamms
Q: How important are character names, to you, and how do you go about naming them? What about titles?
A: I have found that in my contemporary books, I just like to make sure I haven’t already used a name in any significant way. In my fantasy stuff, I put a little more thought into it, though. I like the names to mean something. As for titles. OMG. I have the worst time coming up with them, most of the time.
Q: In what locale is your most recent book set? How compelling was it to set a story there? Do you choose location the same way every time? How?
A: I think the immediate setting of the Main Character’s actual apartment in Stained Glass was very important, but the world at large is usually pretty generic. If I have to use elements like laws or school customs, I usually use generic Canadian, because that’s what I know. I only set things in the States or elsewhere if I have to. As to how I decide, if it’s not generic Canada, then the plot or characters let me know where it is.
Q: How much power do you give your characters in steering the story line?
A: Better to ask how much power they give me. Lol! When I try to steer, we inevitably go off the rails. Better to let them have their own way.
Q: What is the most satisfying element for you in writing gay relationships, and why?
A: That moment in the story when the main characters realize they are together because that is the right place for them to be, that’s magic. I don’t think it would be any different if I wrote het or f/f. Gender isn’t the issue. The magic is the issue.
Q: Are readers involved in making your fiction—do they suggest stories or say what they’d like to read?
A: They always suggest. It isn’t that I don’t listen. It is more like some characters speak to me and I tell their stories, some do not. I can’t force a character to talk to me. But there are characters I’ve lived with a long time, secondary characters or main characters I had thought I was done with, who come back, years after the fact and whisper in my ear, and I’ll do my best to accommodate them. If a reader asks for the story of a character I can’t feel, I’m happy to chat about the characters, happy to discuss the story and the possibilities, but I never make promises.
Q: Describe the ideal relationship between author and readers.
Q: What do you find useful about reviews?
A: When I’m looking for a book to read, I sometimes glance at them if I’m waffling about whether to pick up a title. More often, I’m like any other reader. I have my go-to authors who I know I don’t even have to read the blurb, I’ll more than likely love the story.
Q: I’m well known for demanding to know an author’s opinion about which of their characters is the sexiest, and I’m making no exception for this group. Who, how, and why?
A: Well, on the manly-men side, there is Vance Ashcroft, country music mega-star and ever-so-slightly, hide-the-truth-in-plain-sight closet queer. He’s everything a country boy should be and then some, with a crooning baritone and silky amber locks to run your fingers through.
On the Fem side, we have Mac, coming in Still Life in December, from Total E-Bound. He’s butch in the every day, but looks killer in a pair of hose and heels, and a mini skirt to show off his sculpted legs. And he has just enough of that vulnerable, love-me-keep-me vibe to drive any top’s fantasy.
Q: What are the fifty hottest words (approximate the word count) you’ve ever written, in your opinion. (Be sure to include citation).
A: That’s so hard to say. Fifty words is like…nothing…lol! I found 92, from my WIP, and I can’t really think about anything else right now, so this probably means more to me than it will to anyone else, but here, Stanley has just finished helping Damian remove his eye make-up.
Stanley was entirely too close when those lashes fluttered and he found grey-green eyes gazing up at him.
“Done,” he whispered.
Damian licked his lips, a tentative smile dancing over his features. “Lip gloss.”
“How do you get that off?”It was Stanley’s turn to breathe too shallowly. Stanley’s turn to find himself slightly too shaky.
“Best way I know.” Damian cupped one towel-wrapped hand at the back of
Stanley’s neck and drew him the rest of the few inches down until their lips met.
The gloss tasted like strawberries and confectioner’s sugar. And whiskey. He moaned.
Q: What are you doing now, what do plan to write next?
A: Right now, I’m working on a Goth rock singer and his Manager, the manager’s Country music signer best friend and sometimes fuck-buddy, and the rock singer’s puppy-love guitar player. I’m in the middle of tossing them all in a big sac, shaking it up a bit and seeing who falls out with whom.
After this, I am dying a little bit inside to get back to Rainbow Alley and give some of those boys their happy endings. And, there’s this thing with a couple of cowboys I wrote about long ago in the way back of beyond, Miles and Dillon from The Runaway. Oooh, and the futuristic one with the really Dominant Dom and his sub who doesn’t yet know he’s a sub. And the mer-shifters…and the dragon shifters. Two universes of dragon shifters, even. And the east coast fisherman and his bartender…and….and….
An Excerpt from Angel Elegy
“YOU can’t expect me to leave him there!” My voice rose, anger elevating it to Haniel’s level. “Do you not see what that human is doing to him?” I’d come home empty-handed, but I was not going to leave the younger Angel to the mercies of a man who had no scruples against using him in such hurtful ways.
“I see an Angel who answered a call,” Haniel said quietly. “I see a young, troubled man and an Angel trying to help him.” But his voice was as filled with sadness as my heart was with fury.
“He’s brainwashing Jophiel. Our brother thinks what that creature is doing to him is okay, Haniel, and it isn’t.”
“I understand your concerns, Ariel.” He looked at me with such sympathy.
I could claw his eyes out for turning that pity on me rather than using his sense of truth to help our fellow Angel.
“But you speak from the heart of someone who feels more than brotherly love. There are things you cannot see past that barrier.”
“You have never set foot outside this sanctum,” I spat. “You have no idea. My concerns—” I shot a hand out, and a flash of livid light splashed across the open expanse of the sanctum. “You don’t know, Haniel.” Anger tossed me about, breaking down my ability to think, forcing me to sporadic movement across the limitless space. “You just don’t—” I stopped and then winged back to stand once more before him. “And Jophiel will not stop that man from doing anything he wants, all in the name of art and creativity. He’ll twist everything that’s good and giving and honest in him. He’ll—”
“Jophiel doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’ll just give and give—”
“Like you did?”
I whirled, fury giving me power, sparking in my gut and drawing my wings out to full splendor. “This is not about me. It’s about him, and the false safety everyone thinks is down there because Michael and Gabriel stayed behind. Angels aren’t safe. We never will be safe. Not among humans.”
Deeper sadness infused Haniel’s eyes, burning the blue to dark indigo. His wings drooped slightly, silver tips disappearing into the hazy divide between the worlds. “You have lost your Faith.”
“I have lost nothing!” Panic rose to fill the spaces left empty by anger. “I know. I was there.” The memories crowded, one piling on top of the next: the clipped wings, the pain, the annihilation of every good thing….
Until a bullet in the back was not betrayal. It was freedom.