Samhain Publishing

If you had to pick your all-time, number one favorite book, what would it be? In a recent Harris Poll of over 2500 adults, that was the question. Not surprisingly, the Bible was number one. But what about the books that came in as readers’ seconds? It seems, according to the article below, that the results vary largely by demographics.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080408/lf_nm_life/reading_survey_dc

Mine, I’d have to say, would be Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë. It was the first gothic romance book I ever read, and it set the stage for my later works. Dark, romantic, the story of star-crossed lovers and a tortured soul. What’s not to like?

So what’s your favorite? If you could choose only one book, what would it be?

Mychael Black

http://samhainpublishing.com/authors/shayne-carmichael-and-mychael-black

No, not the scientific version. I’m talking about character evolution, and not just through the timeline of a story. I’m also referring to the evolution of character types throughout a writer’s career.

When I first started writing, several years ago, my men were young—sometimes experienced, sometimes not. They looked young, they acted young—just like you’d expect guys in their early twenties to act. Over time, however, I’ve seen my men grow older. It’s been a slow, inevitable change—from randy twenty-somethings, to grounded men in their thirties and forties.

I’ve also noticed that this evolution follows my own personal idea of male perfection. (And when I say perfection, I mean figuratively—not literally.) Used to be, I only looked at young men—mostly with long hair, usually bare chests, thin. Now, though? I lust after men with mileage, men who look older, act older. They tend to have a bit more hair, creases in the corners of their eyes, short hair or none at all—even a touch of gray or more. They’re muscular and exude confidence, like they’ve been through trials of life and made it out, scars or not.

Those are the men I find myself writing about now, many years after I started down this career path. And those are the men I find the most perfect.

I adore vampires, am rather fond of shifters, and of course, Leathermen. (Okay, so that last goes without saying, if ya know me.) But my first love is fantasy. I don’t mean just elves and whatnot. I’m talkin’ magic and swordplay and epic adventures.

I cut my fantasy teeth on Tolkien, like most others who are lovers of the genre. At the age of nine, I read The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read all four books at this point; I’m thirty now.

Elves, magic, dragons, warriors, swords, castles, lush lands to explore, majestic mountains beneath which vast cities wait. There’s no limit to what a fantasy world of sword and sorcery can be. Magic & the Pagan is one such world. When Shayne and I created it, we knew we had something special. And there is so much more left to explore in Aurora. Magic & the Pagan only touches on a few realms. Aurora itself is vast—with many creatures, sentient and not.

Constructing the dark fae language was one of the most exciting things I’ve done. I’m a lover of languages and even took Latin in college. Granted, I bombed it—bad—but I still kept a good bit of what I learned. The dark fae language was built around Latin. While I didn’t go into major detail in terms of rules, I hope to eventually develop it further as we write more in Aurora.

So, when you read Magic & the Pagan, now you know where the language of Aidan Loriel’s people came from, and hopefully, where it will eventually go.

~Mychael

Enter into a world of magic, lust, love and betrayal.

Evan Bartholomew lives life as a gay pagan with a deep interest in magic. Not wise choices in the small town he resides in. When he comes across a book of magic in an old bookstore, he fantasizes about the portrait of a man within its pages.

The first time Evan attempts one of the spells in the book, he finds himself in a world he never knew existed, completely clueless. A world of demons, magic, a queen who wants to kill him, a king who lusts after him, and the man of his fantasies, Aidan Loriel.

***
Farther down the corridor, there was movement. Massive leathery wings the color of cinnamon brushed along the walls on either side of the…creature. Two giant horns protruded from its head, and when it turned to face Evan, a wide grin broke across the creature’s face, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. The creature’s gaze flickered to the book and back up to Evan. Within seconds, it turned and disappeared into thin air.

Evan bolted down the hall in the opposite direction. His mind raced, trying to make sense of whatever the hell that was. He’d never seen anything like it in his life and he hoped never to see it again. Finding a set of stairs, he ran down them, taking the steps three at a time. His heart pounded as he desperately searched for a way out of the place. It was a maze of corridors and rooms. Finally finding another staircase, he raced down it. Three people stood at the bottom. Evan half expected them to try and stop him, but they only stared at him.

Out of a doorway behind the small group, a man emerged. He was dressed in a red robe and had auburn hair and piercing red eyes. His eyes widened when he saw the book cradled in Evan’s arms. Evan skidded to a halt.

“Leave us.” With the command, the group hurried out of the main hall. “You can stop running now. If you cooperate, you will not be harmed. Come. Join me.”

Blue sparks engulfed his only escape route. Evan whirled around, wildly scanning for another doorway, hall, anything. Then he dared to glance at the man. Evan’s mouth opened in complete shock when he realized it was the man in the picture. Holy shit… He blinked and for the first real time in his life, knew how a deer felt when caught in headlights. Here he was, looking at the most gorgeous creature he’d ever laid eyes on, and all he could do was stare like an idiot while contemplating escape.

“What in the hell is going on?” Evan asked.

The man gestured for him to follow, and, dazed, Evan obeyed. Once they were both in the room, the man shut the door behind them. He walked around to stand before Evan, his gaze curious.

“That is precisely what I would like to know. You are not Leland, yet you have my book.” His brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. A lock of red hair fell, revealing the barest tip of a pointed ear. “Are you fae? I have not seen any of your kind, but then, I haven’t been out for some time.”

Evan shifted and tugged at the hem of his fishnet shirt. He kept the other hand tight around the book, though the book obviously belonged to the man in front of him. “You’re kidding me, right?”

When he caught sight of the pointed ear, Evan opened his mouth to say something more, but then just as quickly shut it. He closed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He looked again, but the pointed ear hadn’t disappeared like it should have.

“Somebody is seriously going to pay for spiking my drink. I’m seeing things.”

“May I have my book?” The man reached out and it was clear that “no” would not be an acceptable answer. “You are an odd-looking sort, whatever you are.”

“First I see some horned creature straight from Dante’s nightmare, and now I’m seeing an angel. Either I’m high or I’m dead, gotta be one or the other. At least for a delusion, I can come up with some good shit.”