I've got Nicola Cameron here today to talk about the origins of her new story, TRICKSTER, and she's sharing a quick, hot teaser. Take it away, Nicola!
Thanks
for letting me come on your blog today! Trickster
is my first M/M shifter story, and was originally intended to be a
short story submission for Evernight’s Alpha’s
Claim: Manlove Edition
anthology. Obviously that didn’t happen, and now I have a prequel
and
a sequel in mind because my Muse is a slave-driving snot that way.
When
I decided to do a shifter story, I wanted to pick an animal that
interested me. I see coyotes all the time in my North Dallas suburb
(the scene where Mark is tracked by a coyote while out running? Yeah,
that may have been based on real life. My coyote was supremely
disinterested in me, though, which was probably a good thing), and
over the past few years I’ve developed a respectful fondness for
them, so that’s why I chose them as my shifter animal when I
started writing the story. As for the setting and industrial
espionage subplot, those may have been influenced by my career in
various tech companies. Oh, the stories I could tell you if I hadn’t
signed those pesky NDAs...
BLURB:
Delaney
Smith, coyote shifter and Trickster Technologies executive, thinks
humans are bland, boring, and undateable. So he gets the shock of his
life when he comes back from vacation and scents his mate in the
Trickster offices — a mate who is not only male, but quite human.
Mark
Fellowes is taken aback when the CTO at his new contract job makes a
pass at him, and even more surprised at his temptation to respond.
Straight and dating a career-minded businesswoman, he’s never even
thought about kissing another man — until now.
When
Mark is attacked by thieves trying to steal company files, Delaney
must put aside his preconceptions to protect his mate. But will a
criminal bent on destroying Trickster Tech separate them before he
can stake his claim?
BUY LINKS:
EXCERPT
Delaney cleared his
throat. Mark yelped and spun, bumping into the dresser next to the
bed. The towel around his waist started to slip, and Delaney caught a
glimpse of pale, muscled hip before he yanked the terrycloth back
into place.
Panting, he glared
at Delaney. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?” he
yelled. “Do you even know how to knock?”
“I did,” Delaney
said, trying to sound innocent. “You didn’t answer so I got
worried. Didn’t know you were in the shower until I came in here.”
And you were coming in there.
Without his glasses,
Mark’s resemblance to a furious faun was even more striking. “God.
I do not need any more of this tonight,” he growled.
“This what?”
“You, sneaking
around and following me everywhere.” He scowled at Delaney’s
groin. “Especially with another fucking hard on.”
For some reason,
that cheered the shifter. “You noticed, huh?”
“Helen Keller
would have noticed it, all right? Does it ever go down?”
“Not since this
morning. I can’t help it, babe. I smell you and I get wood.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
Mark edged next to the bed, clutching both towels now and looking
hunted. “Look, I’m tired. I just want to put on some pajamas and
crash, all right? I’ve had a really bad, weird day, so how about we
can talk about shapeshifters and,"
he waved vaguely between them, "that
other thing in the morning.”
Delaney ignored the
slap of disappointment and nodded. “Okay. We’ll talk later when
you’re not tired.”
Although you weren’t too tired to jerk
off in the shower.
Mark’s cheeks
blazed to life. “You listened to me?”
Oh, shit, he can
hear my thoughts already? “I didn’t mean to, but coyotes have
really good hearing,” Delaney said defensively. “At least you got
off. My balls are aching so much I can barely walk straight.”
“So go to your own
damn bathroom and rub one out there!”
“It’s not about
getting off, dammit!” Delaney yelled back, before catching himself.
“Okay, it’s not just about getting off. God, I really wish you
were a shifter. Then you’d understand.”
“Well, I’m not
a shifter,” Mark snapped, “so you’re just going to have to
explain it to the stupid human.”
“I -- Jesus.”
Delaney sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and
find the right words. “Being drawn to a mate, it isn’t just
physical. It’s emotional and spiritual as well.” He gestured at
his groin. “Yes, I want to fuck you. That’s pretty damn obvious.
I also want to know you. I want to talk to you, find out
everything about you—where you grew up, what your family’s like,
whether you like sports, what your favorite food is, your opinion on
Steven Moffat, what you want to do with the rest of your life, all
that. And I want you to get to know me, too.”
BIO
Nicola Cameron is an
expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and
Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head
as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has
finally mastered the proper use of "y'all," much to her
Chicago family's dismay.
Despite a healthy
interest in sex since puberty, it wasn't until 2012 that Nicola
decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she
picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to
erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her
husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks
almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major
telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then
there’s just plain torture...).
Thanks for hosting me today, Naomi!
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