H.M. Shepherd is here today to talk about one of her characters from her debut novella, Just for Nice.
In my other
blog tour posts I've spoken a lot about setting and why the subject of
Dreamspinner's States of Love collection resonated with me. However, I'd like
to use this last scheduled post to talk about something else deeply important
to me, and that's bisexuality.
Even I have
occasionally managed to fall into the trap of referring to Just For Nice as a gay romance when in fact only one of the
protagonists is gay. The other, Nick, is bisexual, and the story begins fairly
shortly after the end of his long-term relationship with a woman. He never
wavers in this identifier, and even references the fact that the guy he likes
is probably disgusted by this fact after outing himself. Sam, for his part, is
a twenty-five year old virgin who is so grateful to meet someone who openly
finds him attractive that it doesn't even occur to him that it could be.
I've
thought about what this would mean outside of the confines of the story --
would it be something that would come up later, or could he eventually hold the
fact that Nick has had many, many more sexual partners against him? -- and I
honestly don't think it's in him to react that way. The way he burst from my
head fully formed à la Athena, Sam is so practical and present-focused that
anything that occurred before his entrance into Nick's life and anything that
should happen should their relationship ends is inconsequential to him; all
that matters is that they love each other right now.
This isn't
the case for most. When it comes to dating, I usually hide the fact that I'm
bisexual around men because I'm tired of being fetishized, and while I'm more
open with women I'm always terrified that I'm being perceived as a straight
woman looking to play around. Men, I imagine, have a much harder time. I want
to avoid playing the Suffering Olympics (guess what I'm watching right now),
but anecdotally speaking I've repeatedly heard straight woman talk about how
they're absolutely repulsed by bisexual men. Not that I'm grateful that a
straight guy's brain automatically jumps to "Threesome?" when he
meets a bisexual woman, but at least I don't often have to see his lip curl
into a sneer while he talks about how gross I am.
This is
definitely a topic I'd like to tackle in another story, maybe in something
longer and a little more serious. For now, though, please enjoy a (relatively)
angst-free same-sex romance.
Excerpt:
“I didn’t
realize you were so young. I kind of feel bad for staring at your ass so
often.”
Sam choked
on his beer. “You what?”
“Sorry.”
Nick took the wine bottle, which was already half-empty, and poured himself
another too-full glass. “Don’t pay any attention to me. What is this, anyway?”
he asked, squinting at the label on the bottle. “It’s good.”
“Apfelwein.”
Sam heard
Nick mutter something about “more German shit.” He swallowed deeply and forced
himself to return to the topic at hand. “I thought… you were just talking about
your fiancée. I thought—”
“I’m both.
Or I like both. I’m bi. Whatever you want to call it. Sorry if it grosses you
out.”
“It
doesn’t! I mean, I’m….”
“Gay? I
figured.” When Sam’s jaw fell open, Nick began to laugh. “No, you’re not, like,
you know, sequined-thong-at-a-Pride-parade gay. But in my experience, straight
guys don’t tend to panic when people see them touching other men.”
“I don’t—!”
But he had, he realized, up to and including multiple times earlier that day.
“So if I do this—” Nick delicately ran his fingers along Sam’s jaw and drew their faces so close that Sam could feel his breath ghosting across his cheek. “—you aren’t going to be watching the road to see if anyone’s driving by?”
Sam wanted
to say no but wasn’t entirely sure if he meant, no, he wasn’t keeping at least
one nervous eye out for witnesses (he was), or no, he didn’t want to do this
(he did). But there was no use in lying. Without another word he ran one of his
hands through Nick’s thick, black curls and closed the remaining distance
between them.
It was soft
at first, just a brush of their lips, and then Nick pulled away, leaving Sam
both relieved and profoundly disappointed. But Nick only took another drink of
wine directly from the bottle and resumed with greater ferocity. Sam could
taste the tart green apple of the wine, a flavor he’d never liked before. But it
tasted so good on Nick’s tongue that
he found himself wanting more. With a gasp he finally pulled away, his chest
heaving as he struggled to get his breath back.
Blurb:
Nick Caratelli flees the city in an
attempt to escape a broken relationship and a career he never wanted. He plans
to set up a bed-and-breakfast in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch
country—despite the fact he has no experience in renovating the old building.
Luckily his handsome neighbor Sam approaches him with a curious proposal: he’ll
help with the restoration in exchange for Nick babysitting his niece.
As they work to have the bed-and-breakfast open for business by summer’s end, their lives become interwoven without them even trying. Before he knows it, Nick is recovering from his loss and taking his place in the unconventional family that seems determined to form. But for Nick and Sam to be together in all the ways they desire, they’ll have to realize all the arguments against romance exist only in their heads….
As they work to have the bed-and-breakfast open for business by summer’s end, their lives become interwoven without them even trying. Before he knows it, Nick is recovering from his loss and taking his place in the unconventional family that seems determined to form. But for Nick and Sam to be together in all the ways they desire, they’ll have to realize all the arguments against romance exist only in their heads….
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H. M. Shepherd is a twentysomething paralegal living in Berks County, Pennsylvania, with both parents, two dogs, a baby sister who should stop growing up, and a brother who similarly failed to launch. Contrary to the Millennial stereotype, however, she does not live in the basement—a blessing considering the size of the spiders down there. She crochets as a hobby, cooks when she can, and reads as though it were her vocation. She is also an amateur genealogist and spends entirely too much time squinting at old census records and church documents. A little spacey, she once managed to forget that her car needed an oil change until it stopped running, and regularly has milk-in-the-cupboard-cereal-in-the-fridge moments. While she is an avid writer, Just for Nice is her first and so far only professional publication.
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