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Synopsis:
Kong—a city he calls home—after being away for eight years. He hopes to finally
find happiness with Peter Wei, his closeted lover of fourteen years, but is
disappointed to find Peter has been put in an untenable position. He must marry
and produce the long-awaited grandchild or get cut off by his millionaire
father.
back into Niall’s life after a one-night stand in Las Vegas. Circumstances
force the men to deal with their attraction, especially when Niall’s firm
considers Gerard to help promote tourism in the People’s Republic of China.
Niall’s best friend since they were schoolmates. He encourages Niall to ditch
his brother and move on. He encourages Niall to ditch his brother until he
finds out Niall is thinking of dating Gerard Sun, a talented artist.
until it wasn’t. Niall finds himself a stranger in a familiar landscape,
slammed on multiple fronts by broken promises, jealousy, intrigue, unimaginable
deceit, and undercurrents of evil. As his dreams quickly turn into nightmares,
Niall reaches out to new allies for support.
Excerpt:
the guy from Chatty Man commented.
Lambert’s response. I’d been ignoring the interview so far, but now I couldn’t
tear my eyes away from the flat-screen, not after hearing that accusation.
what?”
white teeth. “I’m not in denial, just quiet about it.”
being a ginger?” Alan Carr asked.
confided in a mock whisper. “We’re said to have a lot of secret powers.”
bursting into laughter.
the bird. Disgusted, I got off the couch and went to refill my drink. Super
powers, my ass. If that were true, then how come the guy dyed his hair black?
Because it’s a myth, I concluded scornfully. Like the correlation between
fingers and dick sizes.
without stars,” someone in the audience commented.
was another shot of tequila. I was on day two of a monumental bender. Thank
God, the weekend was almost over. Tomorrow, I’d be back to normal—innovative,
focused, and coolly competent—despite this setback. Dealing with clients in my
current state of mind wasn’t an option and could end up a financial disaster. A
large part of my success as a top-tier exec at one of the most successful
advertising agencies in the world was my inscrutable façade. It would have been
the kiss of death to show any sort of weakness among Hong Kong’s movers and
shakers. The majority of my clients were from the PRC. They asked to work with
me, because I was born and raised here. Even though I looked like your average
American, I spoke fluent Mandarin and Cantonese and knew the drill. Emotions,
good or bad, were viewed as a character flaw. Men who allowed feelings to
interfere with business were usually dumped like yesterday’s pork bun.
glass cabinets above the bar and only saw a reddish blur where my head was
supposed to be.
glass, if not…raise your standards.”
guy yammering about? I turned my attention back to the TV screen and muttered,
“Piss off!”
the eyes, with a sly grin plastered on his gorgeous face, and purred, “Make
me.”
flat-screen. Was I hallucinating or what? Had the overpriced tequila finally
destroyed my few remaining brain cells?
myself backward, hoping the cushions would catch me, so I wouldn’t end up on
the floor with a mild concussion. They did, thankfully. Never losing sight of
the flat-screen, I took another shot of the aged Patrón and shuddered as it
went down my gullet.
TV and made stupid pew-pew noises, hoping it would blow up. The room was
plunged into darkness, and the abrupt silence was a much-needed reprieve. I
waited a few minutes to see if Adam would goad me again, but nothing happened.
All I heard was the soft hum of the central air. Good. I could chalk this up to
an overactive imagination and some wormy tequila.
daylight seeped in through the vertical blinds. The noises in my head had been
replaced by a relentless pulse of pain. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to
focus on my goals. Aspirin, shower, change, meet with the client, close the
deal, and send them on their merry way. Now was not the time to dwell on my
love life or lack thereof. Glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand, I
saw that I had two hours to get my shit together and walk into my meeting with
a studied look that oozed calm and confidence. It would be a stretch given my
current condition, but I knew I’d pull this off. I had to. There was no one
else on staff who could deal with Minister Xiang Guo. She was a formidable
negotiator and set in her ways. It was my job to open her eyes and help her
understand that, if the Chinese hoped to improve their status abroad and lure
in more tourists, they needed a serious makeover.
immediately regretting the sudden move. My head was spinning and I cradled it
between my hands, hoping that would help. When the room stopped tilting, I
inched my way toward the bathroom, grabbing on to the wall whenever I found
myself lurching. My earlier assessment would need a hard edit. This hangover
was going to be a bitch. I reached for the bottle of aspirin, shook two in my
hand, and used the shower water to chase them down. Under the stinging spray of
oscillating heads, I recalled how this binge had started.
Exclusive Excerpt:
Many thanks for giving me the opportunity to share an exclusive excerpt from my latest release, Third Son. The idea for this novel appeared out of the blue like all my other stories, and I jumped on the chance to explore the mind of a character whose outward appearance and psyche are completely at odds. Having grown up in a country where I was a minority—the Philippines—it was easy to relate to Niall. Although he speaks the language, and understands the prevailing mindset, a blue-eyed ginger in China sticks out like the proverbial sore thumb. This story is a departure from most of the romances I’ve written in the past and I’m happy it found a home at NineStar Press.
Niall meets James’ wife, Ling, for the first time. Things are awkward between them and he can’t figure out why. On the way home, he reminisces about his friendship with James.
Ling joined us for dinner and her presence was off-putting. I was polite but reserved, mostly answering her questions in monosyllables. Topics ranged from interior design to the latest fashion trends, which would have interested me under normal circumstances, but I was acutely aware that she was judging my every move. The camaraderie James and I had easily shared was gone, and I decided that being alone in my apartment would have been preferable to this stilted atmosphere.
James didn’t try to persuade me to stay when I begged off but, once again, insisted I accept his offer to be driven home instead of taking a cab. As the car wound its way down the mountain to the Mid-levels, I thought of all the Sunday nights we’d repeated this same maneuver.
Back then, weekends meant escape, and I packed my tiny carryall with enthusiasm, knowing I was leaving the mundane behind and stepping into the privileged world of the Weis. Two days of the week wherein I could put my daily chores on hold and live like a prince.
My family wasn’t poor, not by any stretch of the imagination, but we lived in a simple two-story house, befitting a rank-and-file member of the United States diplomatic core. We had some domestic help, but none of them stayed the night. As such, I had to make my bed, prepare my lunch, and be ready to catch the school bus at exactly seven thirty in the morning. Dad left early and Mom slept in most mornings. I was a regular boy from Monday to Friday, but when I spent the weekend with the Weis, I could pretend I was someone else—a more sophisticated version of myself.
There was always something going on at the big mansion. Luncheons and dinners were a common occurrence, and multiple tables of mahjong or pai gow a given. Hordes of friends and relatives passed through the doors each day, allowing James and me to slip into the crowd. No one paid much attention to us, especially when we were preteens. We’d run in and out of rooms, or out to the gardens to play, and rarely got in trouble. As we grew older, we’d hover around the gaming tables, catching a coin or two if someone was on a winning streak and chose to reward us for bringing them good luck. Food was plentiful and cleanup wasn’t necessary. There were lots of servants to address our every need. I chattered away in Mandarin and would have gone unnoticed but for my red hair. Then distant family members would comment on my existence and wonder how I fit into the family dynamics. Kenneth would pat me on the head and jokingly refer to me as his third son. I remember how proud I was whenever that happened. Which made his current opinion of me so painful and hard to accept.
I hated going home on Sunday night. Reluctant to leave my adopted family behind, I began speaking Mandarin at home. It irritated my parents, and they insisted I revert to English as soon as I walked through our front door. They encouraged me to become friends with sons and daughters of other expats, but those kids seemed boring compared to James and his family, and even worse than boring was their condescending attitude toward the Chinese. I was insulted by their snide remarks, raising my voice in anger when they treated the locals like second-class citizens. In reality, Caucasians were the interlopers, not the other way around. Soon they kept their distance and the invitations stopped coming.
And yet, through all the turmoil, my parents didn’t force me to break ties with James. The Weis were too important to offend. The old man would often show up at embassy parties, and it would have been extremely awkward if they separated us. When I hit puberty and realized I was gay, I told James, hoping he shared my orientation. At the time, I was perpetually horny, but whenever I broached the subject or asked for a helping hand, James shied away. And then Peter showed up. Like the brightest star in the galaxy, he eclipsed anyone in his immediate vicinity.
As I sat in the luxurious car with soft music in the background, I had to wonder what would have happened if James had taken me up on the offer. We were compatible in so many ways. Our union could have been a happy one, a fitting culmination to years of friendship, but love wasn’t negotiable. Even back then, I knew that trying to convince James to give it a shot because I wanted it more than anything would have been a dumb move.
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Meet the Author:
multifaceted woman who is a product of her upbringing in multiple cultures, having
lived in Japan, the Philippines, Spain, and the Middle East. Fluent in three
languages, she’s a citizen of the world and an interesting mixture of East and
West. A little bit of this and a lot of that have brought a unique touch to her
literary voice she could never learn from textbooks.
for writing, real life got in the way, and the business of raising four sons
took priority. With the advent of e-publishing—and the inevitable emptying
nest—dreams of becoming a published writer were resurrected and she’s never
looked back.
love men in 2002 and continues to draw inspiration from their ongoing struggle
to find equality and happiness in this oftentimes skewed and intolerant world.
Her award-winning novels have been called “gut wrenching, daring, and thought
provoking.” She admits to being an angst queen and making her men work damn
hard for their happy endings.
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