Thursday Random Thought ~ When Writing Sports is Like Writing Christmas… with @MeganSlayer #christmas #sports #sportsromance

I hadn’t given much thought to writing about sports until this weekend. I know that sounds crazy, being that I’ve written some sports romances. I’m partial to football, but I like a good racing story and one involving baseball, too. I know nothing about hockey and never tried to understand it. Hockey, forgive me, but it isn’t my thing. Oh, I do like a good cross country race, too. Grin.

But this past weekend, I went to a baseball game, then was able to take in a scrimmage for my football team. I was in heaven, let me tell you. There’s nothing, to me, like watching a great game and seeing fantastic athletes in action.

I’ve been neck deep in writing Christmas stories. I’m all about a good holiday tale, too. Almost as much as I like my sports. Seems sort of odd, writing Christmas in July, doesn’t it? Well, it’s as screwy as it seems. It’s not easy. I’m hot and it’s uncomfortable outside, and I’m trying to write snow, chill and carols. It’s hard to be in the thrill of the season when it’s over 90 degrees.

Writing sports is like writing holiday stories. It is for me at least. I have to be in the mood to write about home runs and tackles. I can’t just write football out of season. It’s hard to think of baseball in the middle of a blizzard. But it’s possible. Then there’s running. I know runners go out in all sorts of weather, but I’m not wild about writing cross country stories when it’s a thunderstorm or snowing.

I’d never thought about the parallel between Christmas and sports until this past weekend. I’m at the baseball game and characters for a story in my Cedarwood series showed up. They chatted through the rest of the game. I could only hope to jot down what they’d said by the time I got back to write it down. I had a notebook with me, but hey, I was there to watch the game, too. I wanted to pay attention. Grin.

But now I know. The game was the inspiration. Same with the scrimmage the next day and watching the binge of Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel. All of them got me in the mood in one way or another to write the respective story. When I’m immersed, I want to write that sport or holiday. Not bad, really. I’ve always got the characters talking so a little inspiration never hurt.

Speaking of inspiration, I’ve got a goddess and a few faeries to talk to. In the mean time, enjoy this snippet from my football romance, Making the Play.
makingtheplay_800

Making the Play by Megan Slayer

Out of Bounds Series

M/M, Anal Sex, Masturbation

Novella

Sports Romance

Pride Publishing

 

Sometimes switching things up really does mean getting the guy.

Allan Clark thought his life as a wide receiver for the Wildcats was over the moment he was told he’d be the new punt returner. He’d thought he didn’t want to be a special teams player. He’d rather have the limelight. But once he starts returning punts, he realizes this was where he should’ve been all along. Speaking of perks, he now gets to spend time with the sexy kicker, Tyler Leigh. Maybe this switch is the best thing that could’ve happened to him.

Unlike Allan, Tyler isn’t planning on going into the draft or playing football for the rest of his life. He’s got other plans, though a side trip in the sheets with Allan isn’t off his radar. He’s wanted Allan since he joined the team. But Tyler’s got baggage and an overzealous ex-boyfriend hell-bent on making his life miserable. With Allan, he sees a bright spot.

Will these two seeming opposites leave their desires on the field, or will they find common ground together and score?

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of masturbation, implied abuse as well as references to violence, physical assault and emotional abuse.

Available from Pride Publishing:

https://www.pride-publishing.com/book/making-the-play

And from ebook retailers everywhere: https://books2read.com/u/mvYDRX

EXCERPT:

Copyright ©2017, Megan Slayer, All Rights Reserved

“Ride with me to Lorne’s. My car’s right over here and in the morning, we’ll call Dad. Deal?” He pressed the fob on his keys. The headlights on his coupé flashed as the doors unlocked. “Perfect for a twosome.”

“Okay.” Tyler inched up to the car. “Just— I can’t walk in with you.”

“Because of Blake and Devan?” The pair of asshats were starting to get on Allan’s nerves and they weren’t even within earshot.

“Yeah.”

“He can suck my ass.” Allan opened the car door for Tyler. “Get in. The bugs are starting to swarm under the bright lights and I don’t want to be eaten alive.”

Tyler acquiesced and slid into the passenger seat. He held his bag in both hands and didn’t look at Allan. “It’s nice. The car. You’ve got a nice car.” He blew out a long breath. “Sorry. I’m babbling.”

“You’re fine.” He shut the door and rounded the hood. Excitement surged through his veins. He had Tyler Leigh in his car. So the guy didn’t think he was popular. He probably didn’t think he was handsome, either. He was wrong. Popularity wasn’t that important, but damn, the man was cute. Allan collapsed onto the driver’s seat and basked in the comfort of the faux leather. Sitting down was a good thing for his aching body. He’d taken one too many hits on the last punt return and needed a break.

“I’m indebted to you,” Tyler said. “What do you want other than help with punts? Blow jobs? My ass?” His voice cracked.

Allan closed his car door and gripped the steering wheel. He wanted to lash out at Tyler, but having an attitude wouldn’t help the matter. Blake was the problem. Blake’s treatment of Tyler, to be more specific. The man was using Tyler and for some reason, Tyler didn’t seem to see he wasn’t worthless. Christ. He wasn’t even sure Tyler knew better.

“Sorry,” Tyler mumbled.

“No. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He had to be delicate. If he moved too quickly or without tact, he’d screw everything up. “Was Blake your first boyfriend?”

 

The Life and Death of Writing with @MeganSlayer

This post was originally posted at The Romance Studio:

https://wp.me/p8f7P3-1jj

I haven’t spoken much about this topic, mostly because until now I haven’t felt up to it. When you’re a writer, you’re expected to write. To eat, sleep, breathe and dream about writing. The characters are supposed to talk to you all of the time. No breaks. For some writers, this is exactly the case. I admire them. For others, it’s less demanding. They write when they can and although the characters don’t stop talking, they fit them in. Others have the infamous writer’s block. Hey, it happens.

But this post isn’t about writer’s block in it’s natural form. My form of writer’s block came out of something that happened starting almost a month ago. My grandfather, the one man who literally stood head and shoulders above everyone else, took ill. He went to the ER and was diagnosed with pneumonia. Now people survive pneumonia. Even at his age, 83, it’s possible to get survive. I didn’t think at the time it was a big deal. Like I said, people don’t have to die from pneumonia.

But life isn’t that easy. He spent more than ten days at the hospital. Tests were done and his breathing never got back to par. While they did those tests and made him take all of those breathing treatments, the doctors discovered cancer in his kidneys and in his lungs.

This is where I got scared. This was the guy whom I looked up to. He was the one who would scowl and grouse at people, but had a huge heart. If you needed something, he’d jump in and help. He literally jumped into the pool once…right before the life guard told us all not to jump in yet. He’d tell us every year he’d chased off Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny because they were breaking into the house. I’ll never forget the grin on his face when he drove his ‘old’ car away. I can’t remember exactly what kind of car it was, but the soft top (I think it was cloth, but not a convertible), but he was so happy to have it. Him zipping on the lawnmower across the lawn that seemed endless when I was a kid. Him engraving my name on my scissors so no one would steal them when I was in grade school (no one did, by the way). He drove me halfway across the state to visit my aunt, which was kind of a sort of farce because I was really going to see my then boyfriend (now DH). He helped me move to my first dorm and helped hike my crap up the seemingly hundreds of steps because the elevator wasn’t available for use.

All of these memories came back. I couldn’t imagine my life without him there. Without him chewing us all out because we hadn’t gotten to the reunion, Christmas dinner, Easter dinner, get together…etc. on time. Smelling the smoke from his pipe while he chewed out the football games or while watching western movies and arguing with the gunslingers.

I didn’t want to lose my grandpa. But cancer is a bitch. I’m sorry. It is. I’m not entirely sure how long he had it before the nodules were detected, but only two weeks after being put into the hospital, the doctors informed my grandmother that there wasn’t anything left to do but to send him home with hospice. April 8th, very early in the morning, he passed.

I’m still upset about this. I won’t lie. He was and still is my grandpa. I knew him as Grandpa, whereas my cousins all called him Pawpaw. I went to the funeral and cried during the stories. I wanted to get up and tell mine, but I didn’t have the strength? Stamina? I don’t know, but I couldn’t do it.

Now this post is supposed to be about writing. It is. I don’t know about other writers, but for me, it’s been hard to focus on the characters. They’re there. Trust me, they’re talking. I just don’t have the desire right now to work on their stories. Is it my period of mourning? I think so. I’ve plodded away on a super short and outlined a longer work. But to sit down and just write…I don’t have it in me right now. I’m sure it’ll happen again. I’m the type of person that once I get whatever it is in my head out of my head, then I can move forward. I just haven’t gotten this out yet. I haven’t understood what happened and accepted it. I will. The stories are there and they’ll come. Just give me time. I promise.

Here’s a little bit about one of my previous releases. I hope you find enjoyment in my story, Merging Their Roar.

Merging Their Roar MERGING

Sanctuary, Book 8

By Megan Slayer

M/M, M/M/M, Ménage, Anal Sex, Oral Sex

Novella

Resplendence Publishing

The right piece for their perfect triad seems to be the one man who doesn’t seem to fit at all.

Eli and Silas have done pretty much everything twins can do together within reason. They share lovers and are inseparable. Now, the lions want free. They want someone to be with both of them and can understand the dual sides to their collective nature. But the twins are scarred by their past. Eli uses his people skills to please and get by, while Silas takes the quieter, introverted and angry approach. Can these two find a perfect complement? Does that person even exist?

Owen Cantrell believes he’s not only worthy of the shifters, but he’s their missing piece. He’s human and hasn’t been around shifters, but he’s not afraid. What could go wrong?

When these three get together, there are plenty of sparks, but things can’t be perfect forever. The way Eli, Silas and Owen deal with their problems and everything thrown their way will prove if they aren’t meant to be or if they can go the distance.

Note: Merging Their Roar is part of the Sanctuary series. Each book features different characters and can be enjoyed as a standalone story.

Available anywhere ebooks are sold, for only $2.99

https://books2read.com/u/3LrX0D

Or at Resplendence Publishing: http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/m8/862-978-1-60735-990-6–merging-their-roar-sanctuary-series-book-eight-by-megan-slayer.html

Everyday Kinky Challenge #2 with @MeganSlayer

Krone für Professjubiläum c1760 MfK Wgt

By Photo: Andreas Praefcke (Own work (own photograph))

[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

It’s Everyday Kinky time!! Yeah! Grin. Hmm….where shall I run with the above picture? Hee hee. Read on!

Decoration, Copyright 2016, Megan Slayer

I’m not a girly man, so when my boyfriend sent me a text saying there was a present at the house and I opened the box to find thid crown…I was shocked. I said, I’m not a girly man. Hell. I’ve got more tattoos than a lot of tattoo artists. What in the name of God did he want me to do with the damn crown?

Garrison walked in the door and rested his hands on his hips. He scowled at me. “You’re not wearing the crown.”

I bit back a groan. Shit. I’m horrible at remembering things and this was a biggie. Our anniversary. Garrison wanted to celebrate the date we’d met.

“I asked you to wear my present and nothing else.” He crooked one eyebrow. “Well?”

Did I mention my boyfriend is a faery? Yeah, he is and his forte is beautiful things. He’d created this crown just for me. I bowed my head. “Yes, sir.” I whipped my shirt up over my head, then shoved my jeans and boxers to the floor. I’d do anything for my faery–even wear his crown on my dick. I draped the ring of jewels on my cock, then stood tall. “I’m ready, sir.”

“Yes you are. Happy anniversary to us.”

I shivered in anticipation. Yes, we were going to have the best anniversary yet…even if I forgot about it for a moment.