Hello Haley and welcome to The Hat Party <3 Thank you so much for subjecting yourself to the RANDOMNESS that is a Raine O'Tierney interview! Please don your best hat, and let's get started!
How come you’re so freaking cool?
Coolness is a zen sort of thing. Some say you’re born with it, some say you cultivate it. I’m in the camp where coolness is thrust upon you.
A drunken relative has just insulted M/M rom up one side and down the other. Plus they spilled their drink on you in the process. What is your most articulate response?
“You’re drunken lifestyle choice intrigues me. Why didn’t I write alcoholic romance? Surely, by your example, there are many takers out there.”
Be honest. Be TOTALLY honest. How’s your handwriting?
Execrable. I trained myself to print because my handwriting looks more like foot writing, but now my printing is illegible.
What are your pie-in-the-sky, almost-too-embarrassed-to-say-out-loud dreams for your writing? No dream is too big!
HBO series. Hell, I’ll take Starz.
You have 200 words—Make. Me. Swoon. (PLEASE!)
They didn’t hurry, though Skyler could feel the quiver of Keith’s limbs as if he were trying to control his desperation. He kissed Skyler leisurely and his tongue caressed just enough, licking against Skyler’s as his lips suckled his lover’s mouth.
When he drew back this time, he held Skyler close, with Skyler’s head just below his chin. “I want to make love to you,” he rasped. Yes, he could feel Keith’s erection pressing forcefully against his thigh. Skyler nodded and, hand in hand, they walked to the bedroom.
They disrobed slowly, not in any hurry. Because they knew they didn’t have to be. Skyler caught glimpses of Keith’s body as it was painstakingly revealed—a shirt opened, a pant leg removed—and was ready for him when he had discarded his last sock.
They melted into each other’s arms. Skyler writhed over the hot skin, rubbing against the coarse hair, filling his nose with the scent of him; his maleness, the tang of sweat, the distant notes of his cologne. “You,” he whispered, not even knowing why.
“Me?” Keith whispered back.
“Yeah,” he said, dragging his lips and teeth across Keith’s collar bone. “Just you.”
“Sappy,” Keith chuckled.
“Shut up,” Skyler whispered back.
A genre-specific virus has attacked you, rendering you INCAPABLE of writing your chosen genre. What do you do now?!
I just continue my mainstream books: As Jeri Westerson (JeriWesterson.com) I write a medieval mystery series with a dark and brooding medieval ex-knight detective, Crispin Guest. And I also write an urban fantasy series, called Booke of the Hidden, with a sexy demon and a feisty female protagonist.
Do you know any cool party tricks and are you brave enough to do them at parties?
I can make forks balance on the edge of a glass. Oh, and I can make cocktails disappear!
Are you going to survive the zombie apocalypse?
The zombie what now?
Give a shout-out to another author who may, or may not, know how much you appreciate them.
Neil Plakcy, for being a friend, mentor… and editor!
And finally, for THE most important question of all: what kinds of dachshunds are the BEST kind of dachshunds?
Sweater-wearing, skateboard-riding, juggling clown dachshunds.
High school English teacher Skyler Foxe is now out and proud, even though a few months ago he had no intention of being so. But since the cat is now out of the bag, he embraces it as well as his boyfriend, head football coach, Keith Fletcher. But who is that good-looking gay parent hanging around Keith, causing mischief at the school as well as in Skyler’s private life? And then someone from Skyler’s past returns, stirring up trouble. Add to that a firebug and suddenly everyone seems up to no good, especially when a smoldering corpse is found outside of the local gay bar. Skyler can’t help himself and he gets up to his old sleuthing tricks once more.
Warmth glowed in Skyler’s heart. Yes, he was glad he came tonight. He needed a little boost.
“So Skyler,” said Jamie, leaning into the table so they could hear him. “You said you wanted to discuss something with us?”
Skyler leaned in, too, and then Philip and Rodolfo followed suit. “Yeah. Um…I was thinking of asking Keith if we should—”
“Get married?” squealed Jamie, clapping his hands.
Skyler gave him a scornful look. “No! Something else.”
“Skyler wants to go au naturale,” Philip cut in. “Sleeveless. Fully armed torpedoes in the tube…”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “You want to BAREBACK?” It was loud. Especially since the music hit a lull at that particular point. It seemed everyone in the place turned around toward them. Skyler sunk down in his seat, feeling his face flame.
“Thanks, Jamie!” he hissed.
Jamie waved his hand as if erasing Skyler’s thought bubble. “It’s no biggie. Every gay man at one time or another thinks about it.”
“But should we?” said Skyler, straightening. “We’ve only been together five months.”
“Do what feels right, Sky. You’ve both been monogamous, haven’t you?”
He nodded, clutching his drink. “But I still…you know. Look.”
“Honey, you wouldn’t be male if you didn’t look.”
“But the problem is,” said Rodolfo, who had been quiet during their exchange, “is that if one of you strays, what are you going to do then?”
Everyone turned to look at him lounging back against the seat. Philip glared. “What do you mean?” he said, voice a bit strident.
Rodolfo slunk forward, laying his hand on Philip’s cheek. “Not with you, minino. I have no reason to go anywhere else.” He nibbled the man’s lips.
“Damned straight,” said Philip with a huff. “But Rodolfo’s point is well taken. What if you do stray, Skyler? Then you’d have to own up and go back to condoms. And how would that work out?”
“Are you saying you’d lie about it if there was no bareback issue?”
This time, no one would look at each other.
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe you guys. I wouldn’t lie to Keith. And I have no plans to stray.”
“But what about him?” asked Jamie. “What if he lies?”
"He wouldn't. He doesn't."
“How do you know?”
He just wouldn't. He's in lo—um...I mean..."
“He’s in love with you, you mean,” said Philip softly. “And yet you’ve never said it to him. How do you suppose that makes him feel?”
Skyler took a long drink and stared into his melting ice when he lowered the glass. “He knows how I feel.”
About the Author:
Haley Walsh tried acting, but decided the actor’s life was not for her. Instead, she became a successful graphic designer in Los Angeles, her hometown. After fifteen years of burning money in the ’80s and early ’90s, she retired from the graphics industry and turned her interests toward writing. She became a freelance newspaper reporter, wrote articles for quirky magazines, published award-winning short stories, and now writes an acclaimed gay mystery series, the Skyler Foxe Mysteries. She’s lived all her life in southern California, sampling wines and chomping chocolate. Yeah, it’s a living.
I can be found in oh so many places:
Facebook: /skylerfoxe.mysteries and /keith.fletcher.5074 (sometimes Skyler and Keith engage in some humorous repartee on Facebook)