Hey y’all! As you know my awesome critique partner is none other than Daisy Harris. She has a new release out and is stopping by to share a bit with you.
Mercury Rising and the Fine Art of Compromise
As I write this blog post, a huge brouhaha is screaming through the interwebz about the author Judy Mays and the small-minded parents in her community trying to fire her from the teaching job she’s held for 25 years. It’s difficult to think about a book release in light of such a huge outrage.
We live in America. Ostensibly we can write what we want and think what we want. What we do in our free time is our own business. I understand that certain professions, teachers included, encounter more public scrutiny. But seriously, writing romance is not a crime. Writing about sex is not a crime. Heck, even writing about crime is not a crime!
This whole thing’s got me thinking about how difficult it is to live under the microscope of public inquiry, to toe the line and try to please everyone all the time.
Such was the theme of my new release, Mercury Rising. Mercury, the god of Compromise, is the Pantheon’s messenger to the human community. He’s a diplomat tasked with organizing a conference to further deity-human relations.
Mercury finds himself in much the same situation as teachers- which means lots of responsibility and little control. He strives to charm everyone, and as such lives a closeted existence and eventually hurts more people with his secrecy than he would have with honesty.
We all know how it feels to be between the rock and then hard place that is trying to make everyone happy. We work harder and harder only to be treated worse and worse. Most of us also know how it feels when we’re finally pushed to our limit. And what a weight is lifted from our shoulders when we realize we can’t be everything to everyone!
And yeah, Mercury Rising also contains mad-hot smexxing. 🙂
Below are a blurb and an excerpt. Comment below to enter for a chance to win a free ebook!
Over-extended charmer, Mercury the Messenger struggles accommodate all the factions of the Deities International Conference and Kibbitz, However, his skills at diplomacy stretch to the limit when a chance tryst turns out to be his assistant, and his arranged fiancée arrives at the scene.
Dillon Rodriquez, Mercury’s executive aide and a soon-to-be MBA student, refuses to be the closeted god’s side-dish. But when an accident at the conference strands the god in the human world, Dillon agrees to act as his guide.
Traveling from San Diego down the Baha Coast to Cabo, Mercury experiences a side of life he never imagined, and he learns that if he wants to earn the love of the one man that matters, he has to stop trying to please everyone else.
Mercury’s alarm bleated with the persistence of a hungry goat. He covered his eyes with his forearm and slammed a hand down on the cruise ship’s bedside clock. The one noise stopped, but a cockerel cry of messages dinged on his telephone. Mercury flared his nostrils and groaned before opening his eyes.
He muttered a curse as he sat up, his long legs draped over the side of the bed. Modern English contained so many such words, and watching television for an hour the previous night had made it clear that profanity had become commonplace in modern times, even encouraged.
The god grabbed his phone from the dresser and walked the single step to the window of the tiny room. Outside, pink morning sky faded to blue. His thumb scrolled over two messages, one from his conference assistant saying he’d received Mercury’s schedule and would be upstairs momentarily and another from Jupiter chiding him to be nice when Vesta arrived.
He clicked on his email, but his eyes panned past the tiny screen to the erection tenting his sleep clothes. Much as he needed to focus on his plans for the day, Mercury’s thoughts snuck to the human from the night before. By all the Pantheon’s gods, the boy had been beautiful! And feisty—Mercury loved the feisty ones. His free hand massaged his sex while he scanned his messages. The god tried to focus on reading, but he couldn’t stop reminiscing about the rivers of muscle that had run the length of the human’s torso.
Mercury gave up trying to concentrate and stepped around the bed toward the bathroom. A moment alone with the Men’s Health magazine he’d found at the ship’s gymnasium, and he could focus on the day ahead.
A knock sounded at the door, stopping the god mid-step. “Chairman?”
Mercury recognized the human by the faint lilt of his Spanish accent. He threw a robe over his shoulders and smiled when his penis bobbed, pointing the way to the door. When he turned the handle, Mercury tucked his erection into a less obvious position. “Get inside!” He reached for the human’s arm.
The boy hopped back, evading him, his eyes wide in panic. He looked down the hallway one direction, then the other. Finally, he checked the door number. “Um …” His lips thinned. He stood taller and squared his shoulders, a cold demeanor replacing his confusion, and held out a hand for Mercury to shake. “Hello, sir. I’m Dillon Rodriguez, your assistant.”
Mercury took in the human’s conference uniform, the iPad in his hands, and the way his shaggy chin-length hair was slicked back. With his white-collared shirt and clean-shaved face, he looked more like an aspiring young businessman than the sexy, rebellious youth from the night before.
Another human cleared his throat in the hallway. Mercury leaned further out the door to find Lanus standing a few feet away, looking uncomfortable. The manager’s eyes panned down Mercury’s body to the tent in his pajamas. He coughed into his fist. “We should come back later.”
Mercury bent at the waist, hiding his hips behind the doorway. He kept his gaze as neutral as he could and chimed, “No, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you and Mr. Rodriguez.” Mercury breathed through his nose and willed his erection down.
The young human’s lip curled into a scowl, and he walked into the closet of a room like he owned it, his defensive attitude from the previous night returning.
Lanus stepped in behind him, face crimson. “Well, I wanted to introduce you two in person since I didn’t get the opportunity yesterday.” He didn’t close the door.
The human crossed his arms over his chest. His chin jutted forward. “Yeah, I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet you last night.”
Mercury’s gaze darted to Lanus, checking whether the older human caught Dillon’s tone or the implication beneath it.
The manager shuffled the papers in his hands. “Mr. Rodriguez has been briefed on your schedule and, as requested, has accessed your conference-related emails and messages.” Lanus looked up and addressed the young man directly. “You’ve responded to the pre-dawn ones, right Chico?”
The human shot his boss a warning look, his high-cheek boned face shifting from handsome to hawkish. “Dillon, please. And yes …” He turned to Mercury. “I’ve responded to all messages received between eleven thirty last night and six this morning. The correspondence should be in your inbox, but not in bold.” He peered down at a smart phone in his hand, a twin of Mercury’s. “Someone named Vesta is arriving at 7:30 a.m.”
“What?” The tiny computer slipped from Mercury’s grip. “That’s in fifteen—” He bent to pick his phone up off the floor. “Oh by Hades, that’s in four and a half minutes.”
“You have your clock set to count seconds too?”
Mercury ignored the human’s argumentative tone.
“Would you like Dillon to meet her when she arrives and escort her to breakfast while you get ready?” Lanus spoke in the upbeat-yet-measured tone of a lifelong server.
“I’d be happy to take care of your fiancée for an hour or two.” When Lanus wasn’t looking, Dillon’s lip twitched in a smirk.
Mercury scrubbed at his forehead, then over his eyes. “Yes. Please do.” He strode to his dresser and started pulling out clothes. He didn’t have time to decipher the reason for Dillon’s annoyance. “Mr. Rodriguez, please make sure Vesta’s bags are taken to her quarters, and then escort her to the Main Dining Room.” He fought the twinge of jealousy that the human might find his fiancée attractive. Perhaps he enjoyed women as equally as men.
“I believe …” Dillon sounded like he could barely contain his venom. “Vesta is scheduled to stay in your room.”
Mercury snapped shut the dresser drawer, crushing his fingers. “Fu—” He ground his teeth through the pain. His nostrils flared on a deep breath. “That will not work. I have too many responsibilities at this conference to take on a roommate.”
Lanus cleared his throat, taking a nervous step back towards the door. “Very well. I’ll speak to the front desk about arranging other accommodations. Perhaps one of the other boats—”
“That would be great!” Mercury’s words flew out faster and more emphatically than he’d intended.
Dillon followed Lanus out the door. Even in the tiny space of the cabin, his gait rolled in a kind of homage to the defiance of youth. “I’ll set her up somewhere nice … boss.”
Mercury closed the door behind them, and then threw the additional lock. He couldn’t even bring himself to care if the handsome boy “accidentally-on-purpose” relegated her to the Egyptian god Seth’s barely-floating dinghy. Honestly, he was beyond caring at all.
Birkenstock-wearing glamour girl and mother of two by immaculate conception, Daisy Harris still isnʼ’t sure if she writes erotica. Her paranormal romances start out innocently enough. However, her characters behave like complete sluts. Much to Miss Harrisʼ’s dismay, the sex tends to get completely out of hand.
She writes about trampy mermaids, sexy dragons, and snuff-y shark-shifters. Her works feature zombie ingenues, horny gods, and some holiday characters like youʼ’ve never seen them before. And thereʼ’s almost always a mad scientist in there somewhere.
If you like science-y subplots, fantastical creatures, and red-hot chemistry, youʼ’ll love Daisy Harris. Connect with her on Twitter, Facebook and at http://www.thedaisyharris.com/