Sunday Snippet

 

My inspiration shot is none other than Nacho Figueras, a world-renowned polo player from Argentina and also a Ralph Lauren model. Preston Fawkes, my MC in Fire Horse, is loosely based on this guy. I watched an interview between Nacho and Barbara Walters back in the day and began writing my novel shortly after.

Although there are 3 books in the series, Fire Horse was written as a stand-alone. The two sequels that followed a year apart, center on the Fawkes-Schnell offspring and their quest for happiness.  

Here's what some reviewers have said about Fire Horse:

Fire Horse
"This story was Ms. Ashling at the top of her game.”

—Hearts on Fire

“I. Loved. This. Book. I was so engrossed and captivated in Preston’s story, I couldn’t even spare the time to update… I just had to get to the end!!”

—Sinfully Gay Romance Book Reviews

"Great plot development with a surprising finale. The author sucks you into the story and characters while slowly developing an interesting plot. Well worth reading."

5 Star review by a satisfied Amazon reader. 

Fire Horse placed number 7 in the erotic romance category in the 2013 Rainbow Awards. You can purchase the novel at AMAZON OR READ IT FOR FREE WITH YOUR KU SUBSCRIPTION. 

Here's the Sunday Snippet from Fire Horse

Later on, at the party, my confidence was shaken once again as I watched women of all ages flirt with Kon. He drew them like some kind of magnet, and who could blame them, really? Compared to the older players, he was a refreshing new addition. Neither tarnished by fame nor jaded by experience, Konrad was a blond, blue-eyed innocent in a six-foot-four package that everyone wanted to unwrap. The green-eyed monster was starting to creep all over me again, and I was tempted to walk up to the group and slap their hands away, but I knew it would make me look like a fool and embarrass Konrad to boot. I turned, so I wouldn’t have to watch the blatant flirtation, and sauntered over to the area where the grooms were hanging out, taking heart from my earlier conversation with Kon. We were a team, he’d said, and no one could wrench us apart.

Still, I worried about an unpredictable future. Once I stepped on the plane, I’d be on my own, and so would Konrad. There was no telling how we’d react to any given situation once we’d parted ways. We’d be meeting new people every day, and despite his reassurances, I was smart enough to realize that he was placating me, as if I were a child, using words instead of candy. In his eyes, I was still the young boy, the insignificant flea he’d befriended, whereas Konrad himself was on the brink of manhood and being thrust into an enticing world of international celebrity as his ranking within the polo world continued to climb.

The change in people’s perception of him was already apparent after only one game. After witnessing his performance on the field today, they realized Kon’s true potential, and he was no longer treated like an amateur. The Texans were busting with pride and acting like his agent, brokering deals that weren’t theirs to make. I could overhear some of the conversations and wanted to protest when I heard the sultan’s representatives inviting Konrad to visit his country in the hope of convincing him to join one of their numerous teams. The very thought of Kon leaving Texas made me panic. Even though I was going away, I could take heart from knowing he would be waiting for me in a familiar setting. If he jetted off to parts unknown, our link would be completely severed.

“You’re not seriously giving his offer much thought, are you?” I asked when I finally cornered Kon alone at the buffet tables.

“What are you talking about?” he replied, just before taking a huge bite of the pulled-pork sandwich dripping with barbecue sauce. A long red line of juice slid down his chin, and I swiped it away with my thumb, stuck it in my mouth, and licked it clean.

“Christ, that’s good,” he garbled, taking another bite. “Aren’t you hungry?”

I shook my head. “Answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Are you going to visit Brunei?”

“I don’t know, Flea. Right now, I’m more concerned with tomorrow and winning this damn tournament.”

“You can’t take time off from school to be trotting all over the world,” I reminded him.

“Says who?” he asked.

“Kon?”

“What if I give up college?”

“Are you serious?”

He looked dead serious.

“How do you expect to get a job if you don’t get an education?”

“Professional players can make money in various ways.”

“Your parents will never let you skip college.”

“Old man Smith is talkin’ to them,” Kon said, slurping on his fingers to get the last drops of the tangy sauce.

“If you stay, I’m staying,” I said defiantly.

“Don’t be a dumbass, Flea. I’m eighteen and you’re barely thirteen. You need to go to school.”

“I don’t have to go to England.”

“Your mother is determined to turn you into a gentleman.”

“I’ll have to convince her to let me stay so I can groom for you.”

“We can talk about it later, okay?”

He was gone before I could protest, wandering back to the group of men on his team. Who could blame him? Playing professional polo was his dream, and being around the people who could make things happen was far more important than trying to placate a whiny boy. I knew in my heart I’d already lost him, despite his assurance that things would remain the same. Nothing would be the same again.

I headed for the stables, seeking comfort from the ponies instead of hanging around and watching people suck up to Konrad. I felt powerless to stop this chain of events, hampered by my age and lack of experience. Not for the first time, I wished I was a lot older and able to enjoy this weekend’s triumph without dwelling on the gloomy aspects. I suppose my feelings were all related to the physical changes I was experiencing. Whoever said growing up was fun? I wanted to get this part out of the way so I could join the world of adults. I was sick of hearing I was too young to do anything of significance and frightened by feelings racing through me at unexpected intervals.

Salt and Pepper greeted me with soft nickers, and I threw myself on the hay and cried myself to sleep. I was startled awake by the sounds of giggling coming from the next stall. I had no idea how much time had elapsed since I’d closed my eyes, but it was still dark and the horses were resting quietly beside me. Whoever was on the other side of the wooden slats wasn’t a stranger, because the horses didn’t even stir. I did a belly crawl and peered through the cracks in the wood. Konrad was slumped against several bales of hay, taking a long pull from a bottle of Samuel Adams. He wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand and smiled at someone I couldn’t see. He had a look in his eyes that did strange things to my body, and I could feel myself getting aroused again. It bothered me more this time because I had no excuse. I wasn’t even touching him.