10 for $10.00

Loving Edits---Basque Trilogy Book One---is on sale today for only $1.00! Nine other novels featuring writers are also on sale for a dollar as part of Dreamspinner's 10th Anniversary Celebration.

Check it out: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/events/10-for-10-writers-415

Friday Preview: Loving Edits

Basque Trilogy: Book One

When bestselling novelist Mick Henley contacts his editor and former lover, Paul Alcott, after a seven-year absence, hearing Mick’s voice reinforces what Paul has known all along―he still loves Mick. The possible reunion entices Paul into considering a dinner invitation, but his hopes are dashed when he learns Mick is in a loving relationship with Spanish Jai alai player Tono Garat.

Paul still accepts the invitation, and Mick asks Paul to help Tono through the final revision of a love story he’s written, inspired by his affair with Mick. When Paul refuses, Mick reveals he’s been diagnosed with a fatal disease, and the novel is Tono’s only means of coping with the eventual outcome.

Paul and Tono resent each other, but they can't deny the strong sexual attraction between them. Can the past blend with the present to ease the way for Mick’s inevitable future? Will they overcome their differences to provide the loving support necessary to sustain the man they love or will their collision destroy Mick's final days?

Today's preview is from Loving Edits, the first book in the Basque Trilogy.

Excerpt:

PAUL stood outside the door, debating his decision to show up. He had
a bottle of red wine in one hand and a bunch of colorful wildflowers in
the other. He’d given in to a moment of sentimental weakness, and now
he wondered what the hell he was doing. He turned to leave when the
door was yanked open by a fractious brunet with a scowl on his face.
“¿Sí?”
“Um, I’m Paul Alcott.”
Tono glared and scrutinized him from the top of his shinning head
down his designer-clad body.
Paul was unfazed. He was just as curious about the man who’d
replaced him in Mick’s life. He inspected him like he would any rival,
noting the chestnut colored hair that curled around his neckline. His
upper body was hidden behind a loose T-shirt, but the finely formed
muscles of his arms were a clear indication of what was underneath.
Paul sized up the man who had stolen Mick’s heart. He was striking, no
doubt about it. The fiery eyes were bad enough, but it was the mouth
made for sucking that sent Paul’s mind straight to the gutter. He was
shocked by his body’s quick response to this stranger, despite the
obvious antagonism. He brought his hand down, casually covering the
evidence of his growing interest with the flowers.
Finally, the Spaniard blinked and rewarded Paul with a tentative
smile. “I’m Tono Garat,” he announced in a heavily accented voice.
“Nice to meet you.” Paul nodded. “Is Mick around?”
“Yes, of course. Come in, please.”
Tono turned, and Paul zeroed in on the rounded ass covered in
tight white shorts. The lack of any telltale garter lines was a clear
indication that Tono was naked under those shorts, and Paul couldn’t
help but notice.
“Paul!” Mick called out, moving forward swiftly and hugging
Paul to his chest. “God, it’s been too long.”
“I know,” Paul smiled, falling under Mick’s spell easily. It had
always been so good between them, and despite the years and the
distance, the sentiment remained the same. “You’re still as gorgeous as
ever,” he teased.
“Oh, stop. You always were good for my ego.”
“The years have been good to you, my friend,” Paul continued,
taking in every part of Mick. He did look great, trim and fit, cleanshaven.
His hair was a little longer than Paul remembered, but the dark
curls framed Mick’s tanned face, making the unforgettable eyes
practically leap out at him.
“You don’t look half-bad either.” Mick’s voice shifted, and the
words came out like a soft caress. He toyed with a lock of Paul’s silky
hair, curling it around his finger. “When did you let your hair grow?”
“After my father died; no more memos about looking
professional.” Paul grinned as he recalled Paul Senior’s edicts.
“Shall I take the wine?” Tono interrupted, clearly uncomfortable.
He knew all about Paul and Mick’s history, but seeing the chemistry
was a different matter entirely. He felt the first twinge of jealousy but
pushed it down quickly.
“Sure,” Paul replied, handing Tono the bottle.
“Would you like a glass of sangria? I made a pitcher,” Tono
asked, never taking his eyes off Paul’s face.
“That sounds good. I’m assuming it’s authentic.”
“I made it from scratch,” Tono said indignantly.
“Come,” Mick stepped in, diffusing the situation. He took Paul by
the arm and led him out to the tiny patio that had a wrought iron table
for four and several wooden planters filled with assorted vegetables
growing abundantly. The tomatoes were ripe and hanging from
branches held up with green sticks. The Weber grill was off to one
side a tribute to summer and warm evenings.
“This is really nice, Mick. I had no idea this was out here.”
“Not too many people do. I guess the owners built this area to try
and simulate a garden, so I benefit. It’s what attracted me to this unit in
the first place.”
Paul sat down and stretched out, loving the sight of Mick after so
long. “So what have you been up to?”
“Living La Vida Loca,” Mick smiled. “Doing some writing, Paul,
but mostly enjoying my life.”
“Sounds great. Are you still working on your sequel?”
“That, as well as something new.”
“Oh?”
“I’m helping Tono with his book.”
“You’re a writer?” Paul was surprised for some reason.
“I’m not,” Tono replied, placing a large wine glass with bits of
floating fruit and ice in front of Paul. “I’m a professional Jai alai player,
but I’ve written a romance, loosely based on my relationship with
Mick.”
“A romance?” Paul scoffed. His look was a combination of
surprise and ridicule. “Why?” He turned to Mick for the answer.
“Because I’m dying.”

The Basque Trilogy is now available as a bundle for $9.99 at Dreamspinner Press.
https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/basque-trilogy-by-mickie-b-ashling-8638-b

Friday Preview: Momentos: Mick's Journey

Today I'm sharing an excerpt of Momentos: Mick's Journey. This is the third novel in the Basque Trilogy. I go way back to the beginning in this one. In Part One, I recount Mick and Paul's high school and college days. Part two features Mick and Tono, and the third section of the book focuses on all three. This short excerpt is from the second part of the book, the moment Mick and Tono first laid eyes on each other.

San Sebastian, Spain, 2000
Tono

THE room was thick with smoke and crammed with tourists and locals. It was the second week in July, and San Sebastian was reaping the benefits of last week's Pamplona Festival, which included the famous running of the bulls. I'd stopped going years ago; it was no longer enjoyable to fight the crowds to walk across the street, or endure the long wait at a restaurant. I could understand the appeal for someone who'd never been there before, and due to the international publicity, it was still a favored tourist attraction. We always caught the overflow a week later.
     My city was more famous for its beaches and countless bars that had been written up and touted in culinary magazines. Pintxos were a variation of the tapas, or finger foods, found throughout Spain. Somehow, the chefs in Sanse, as we natives fondly called San Sebastian, were either better than most or more creative. The abundance and variety of choices offered in tantalizing displays on the countertops of each bar were a visual and palatal delight. For us, it was a part of life and the evening aperitif. I always stopped at Vergara, one of my favorite bars, to have a drink while savoring any new dishes the owner had concocted. He liked trying out new recipes on favored customers before serving them to the general public.
     I scanned the crowd, trying to determine if anyone was worth approaching. I'd just returned from my five-year stint in Florida and was slowly getting back to the more relaxed atmosphere of life in my  hometown. Florida had been a learning experience and an opportunity to make the kind of money I'd only dreamed of, but the price was high. My daily schedule had left no room for leisure time. If I wasn't at the fronton playing for several hours each night, I was at the gym working out. There hadn't been much time to do any cruising, and even if there were, I wasn't the sort of person who hung around gay bars. A few disappointing hookups early on had convinced me that random fucks weren't my style. I'd hoped to find someone special by now; after all, I‟d had the opportunity. Being anonymous in another country had its advantages. No one knew me outside of the fronton, unlike here at home; the spotlight of recognition shown bright. My parents had never asked, and I had never volunteered any information on my love life. They'd tried for years to set me up with daughters of friends and had finally given up in disgust, claiming I was too picky. My fellow players on both sides of the ocean were unaware of my sexual orientation, or chose to ignore it, which was to be expected. There was no place for mariquitas in our world―a simple fact I‟d always known.
     I was getting ready to leave the bar when I heard the laughter coming from a group of men over at the far end of the room. The center of attention seemed to be the guy who was gesticulating wildly. He had his back to me, so all I could see was his rear end, encased in skintight Levi‟s topped off by an equally tight T-shirt. His curly, black hair brushed his shoulders, and I would have disregarded him, except he turned suddenly and our eyes met.
     The flash of interest was easily discernible in the stranger's face. I couldn't break eye contact, and I found myself approaching him, unable to stop. I paused and asked for a beer, never taking my eyes off the man who seemed to be caught under the same powerful spell. We acknowledged each other with a nod. He left the group and moved a little closer, stopping when he was about three meters away, and he studied me with blatant interest. I could feel my body reacting to the intense scrutiny and was a little dismayed by the force of my attraction. I had no idea who this man was or where he was from, but he had one of the most beautiful faces I'd ever seen. I was hypnotized―deep purple eyes fringed by dark lashes that curled outrageously, and full, plump lips. The thick shadow of a day-old beard counteracted the almost feminine beauty, while his jet-black hair fell in abundant curls, framing a finely sculpted face. He smiled seductively and moved a little closer, whispering in my ear.
     “Hey,” he purred, raising every hair on my body.
     “Hola,” I responded in Spanish, curious to see if he understood.
     “Hola, guapo,” he flirted. “¿Hablas Inglés?”
     “Yes.”
     “Fantastic! I‟m so sick of trying to make myself understood―it's exhausting!”
     I laughed, appreciating his honesty. “I know what you mean. My first few months in Florida were a nightmare.”
     “Do you live in the States?”
     “I did for a number of years, but I'm back to stay.”
     “Lucky you. My name's Mick, by the way. Mick Henley.”
     “Not the writer?”
     “You know my work?” He sounded surprised.
     “I've read your book.”
     “I don't know what to say.”
     I shrugged. “It was good.”
     “Oh, I know that.” Mick laughed. “What I meant was I didn't expect to be recognized.”
     “Why? You're a famous writer.”
     Mick grinned. “What's your name?”
     “Tono Garat.”
     “Tono is different."
     “It's short for Antonio.”
     “I see. Can I buy you another beer?”
     “I'm not done with this one yet.”
     “Do you mind if I join you?”
     I looked at the men Mick had been talking with. “What about your friends?”
     “I have no idea who they are. We just started up a conversation.”
     “Are you always this friendly?”
     “Yes. Why are you so surprised?”
     “Because I'm not.”
     “You seem plenty friendly to me,” Mick said softly. “Would you like to go somewhere and get to know each other better?”
     “Now?”
     “Do you have other plans?”
     I looked around to see if anyone was watching. No one even glanced in our direction, and I felt comfortable enough to venture a positive reply. I turned back to Mick, who'd been waiting for my decision, but I made him wait while I drained my beer in two long pulls. “Follow me after a few minutes,” I instructed. “I'll meet you outside, near the church around the corner.”
     Mick remained at the bar with a perplexed look on his face. I couldn't believe I'd said yes to what was probably going to end up as a one-night stand. This wasn't my style, especially not here on my own turf, but there was something about the writer that made me want to take a chance. It could be because he was an American, and a celebrity, but I'd already broken one of my own rules. My strides were brisk and purposeful, leading me away from the bar and the prying eyes. When I reached the church, I waited impatiently, wondering if Mick would show up.
     “Is there a reason for the subterfuge?” Mick asked with a half-smile when he finally stood in front of me.
     “What do you mean by, 'subterfuge'?"
     “The whole James Bond thing.”
     “I'm not out.”
     “Ahh…. I can't imagine what that's like.”
     “It is what it is,” I said angrily. “If you can't accept it, then go.”
     “I'm not judging, Tono. I just think it's a hell of a way to live.”
     “You know nothing about my life,” I said defensively. “Look, maybe this was a bad idea. I'm really not into casual sex.”
     “Hey,” Mick said gently, holding on to my arm. “Settle down, okay? Let's talk and get to know each other. Nothing has to happen tonight.”
     “Yeah?”
     “Come on.” Mick inclined his head in the other direction. “Let's head out toward the beach.”
     We walked in silence. I wondered what was going through Mick's head right now. Did he think I was a coward for being in the closet? Was he sorry he'd extended the impulsive invitation? I slanted a glance, and he appeared relaxed and comfortable. His body language was reassuring, and I decided to enjoy the moment, shrugging off my doubts and unreasonable fears. Blackmail was always an issue, and being outed in my hometown wasn't a case scenario I wished to deal with, but hopefully none of it would come to pass.
     We arrived at Zurriola Beach, and Mick sat on the low concrete wall that separated the street from the sand. “Is this okay?”
     “Sure.”
     “What do you do?”
     “I'm a Jai alai player.”


The Basque Trilogy has been turned into a bundle. You can purchase all three novels for $9.99 only at Dreamspinner Press: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/basque-trilogy-by-mickie-b-ashling-8638-b

Friday Preview-Tono

Today I'd like to share a snippet of my novel, Tono. In book two of the Basque Trilogy, you see another side of Tono Garat, the Basque athlete who helped Mick Henley recover after his break up with long-time lover, Paul Alcott. Tono was a jai alai player at the height of his career when he met Mick. He was also deep in the closet. Mick's love and support gave him the courage he needed to come out and be the partner Mick deserved. Tono was also a poet, a romantic, who enjoyed writing sonnets for Mick. The Spanish poem beside the image of the book cover is one Tono wrote and read at Mick's funeral. I chose to leave it in Spanish rather than have nuances lost in translation. After Mick passes, Paul and Tono are trying to keep their relationship alive, but there are serious issues that need to be addressed. The conversation below is a start. At the end of the except I'm posting some photos of jai alai in honor of Tono and all the Basques who love this sport as much as we love baseball.

Excerpt

“When I was eight years old, my father said that I‟d have to run up and down that hill each day to strengthen my legs. No matter how tired I was, or what the weather was like, I ran. If my shoes were too tight, I ran barefoot. I helped unload fishing boats, partly because they needed another hand, but mainly because we couldnt afford to buy weights for my training. I didn't own a pair of Nike shoes until I was seventeen years old. Id play in espadrilles, something you consider "summer wear‟, but here, we wear them because they're cheap and they're comfortable.”
“Tono, I didn't know.”
“You didn't know because you never cared enough to ask.”
Paul was silent as Tono continued with his outburst. “My father accomplished small miracles getting me to the polideportivo each week. He'd take turns with other dads so that we could have our hour at the fronton, but because it was so crowded and the demand for the space so high, we'd have to play at five in the morning, which meant we left here at four. Do you know what that's like, particularly in the winter?”
“I can only imagine. It must have been difficult.”
Tono snorted in disgust. “Difficult doesn't even begin to describe it.”
“When did you move to San Sebastian?”
“When I was around thirteen or fourteen. I can't remember exactly, but it was at that time I started to win and move up in the rankings. My family began to realize that I was far better than many of the other players, and if I was going to make it, they'd have to go the extra mile. They uprooted themselves to another city for me. By the time I was eighteen, I was already under contract and playing professionally. I left for Florida when I was in my early twenties, ignorant of English and the American way of life, but I learned it quickly. And let's not forget the internal war I had with my sexuality through all of this. Hiding the fact that I was gay was extremely isolating, and I was lonely for years.”
“Tono, please calm down. You're spiraling.”
“This conversation was overdue.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you and I are worlds apart, Pol. For all your education and your fancy lifestyle, you're insular and narrow-minded in thinking that the universe revolves around your country and your way. Well, guess what? There are entire nations in this part of the world that want nothing to do with America. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't want to live in New York? That I hate everything about it except for you?”
“It hadn‟t crossed my mind. I just assumed you'd want to be with me, but obviously I was mistaken.”
Tono silently stood his ground until Paul held his hand and said earnestly, “We could try and make it work.”
“Who would do the trying? Me? By giving in and going back with you? Or would you actually consider living part of your life here, in another country, because you loved me enough?”
“I have a business to run,” Paul said, staring at his feet.
Tono raised Paul's face with a gentle hand so he could look into the troubled eyes. “You know I love you, rubio, but we have nothing in common, and love isn't always enough.”
“How can you say that after being in a relationship that relied on love for sustenance in the face of a deadly disease? Your love sustained Mick, our love brought him peace and gave him strength through some terrible times, so saying that love is not enough is ludicrous.”
“I can't argue with that, Pol, but neither you nor I are facing imminent death. We have to make a life together, and I don't think we can. What do we have in common, really? You hate sports, for one thing. You've never shown any kind of interest in learning more about my Basque heritage or Spanish culture in general. You're constantly berating our customs, especially the timetable, which goes against your well-regulated life. Can you even say two words in Spanish other than please and thank you? You've never made the effort to be a part of my world, yet you expect me to walk away from everything I know and love to move to a city that only holds bad memories for me.”
“You'll be able to commute as often as you want. The jet will be at your disposal.”
“Pol, have you heard anything I've said?”
Paul squeezed Tono's hand and remained mute. He was afraid to open his mouth because he knew he'd start begging, and Paul Alcott didn't beg. Or maybe he did that one time, and ironically, to this same individual. “Are you just giving up, Tono? Don't you think our relationship is worth fighting for?”
“Maybe I need proof.”
“Excuse me?”
“I need to know that it's not always going to be about you and your way. If we're going to have any kind of life, it needs to be a partnership, and a sharing of cultures. I'll never be an American. You'll never be a Spaniard, but we need to find some middle ground, or this is doomed.”

You can purchase The Basque Trilogy bundle for $9.99 at Dreamspinner Press: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/basque-trilogy-by-mickie-b-ashling-8638-b

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New Release-The Basque Trilogy Bundle

The Basque Trilogy is available as a bundle for $9.99. Check out the individual blurbs on the buy page: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/basque-trilogy-by-mickie-b-ashling-8638-b

Last week I concentrated on Basque food. This week I'll be sharing photos of the scenery. One of my characters in Gnarly was a champion surfer so you'll be seeing some shots of the sport in the North of Spain.

 A crowded day at Zurriola beach. This features prominently in Gnarly and Tono.

More crowds at La Concha Beach. 

 Iker, one of my characters in Gnarly, is a part-time lifeguard. This guy is doing his job at Zurriola.

Landscape shot of the area

                                           Surf's Up!

More crazy surfers braving the elements! 

As you come around the bend in the Paseo Nuevo
you'll see this scenic spot.

Fun in the sun!

Gnarly is available for purchase here: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/gnarly-by-mickie-b-ashling-8583-b