In the office with ~~S.C. Wynne~~Painful Lessons~~ and a giveaway
Hi, Y’all! Today I am so excited to get to spend the day in the office with S.C. Wynne . Do ya want to tag along and meet S.C?
Hi, S.C. Thank you so much for letting me tag along with you today.
Do you have a regular day job(or night) or write full time? I own a business but I can write while I’m there. Lots of interruptions though.
When do you usually write? Early morning until 8 or 9pm. I’m driven.
How do you usually begin your day? With coffee. A huge cup of java.
Do you eat breakfast before you go to work? I don’t like eating in the morning. Coffee. Coffee and more coffee. When I’m being a good girl I also have green juice.
Sitting at a desk all day can make you stiff and achy. Do you have an exercise routine? I have my trusty glider next to my bed. When I’m being good it gets used. Otherwise it’s a wonderful rack for my clothes.
Would you show us your office? I write on my bed when I’m home. I have a very nice view of the backyard. It’s serene. I like serene.
Ooh this is nice! Don’t mind me I’ll just sit in the corner quietly while you work. What are you working on today? What I’m working on right now is a story about a guy who drops out of Corporate America to start his own dog walking business. One of his clients is an uptight business What I’m working on right now is a story about a guy who drops out of Corporate America to start his own dog walking business. One of his clients is an uptight business excecutive who temporarily inherits his sister’s dog and 4-year-old son.
*sneaks over peaking over—shoulder*
“Who are you?” The little boy had jam on his chin and his pajamas were on inside out.
I hesitated. If it hadn’t been for Rascal circling my legs I’d have thought I was at the wrong house. “I’m Drew. I’m here to walk Rascal.”
The boy threw his arms around the dog and giggled. “I want to come.”
“Umm.” I Rubbed the back of my neck and peeked inside the doorway. “Is there an adult around?”
Benjamin’s eyes got huge and he took a step back.
I held out my hand. “I’m not a murderer.” I gave Kyle a scowl. “You don’t say things like that to a kid.”
Kyle grimaced. “He can’t just open the door whenever he wants.” I’d never seen him with a hair out of place, but today his raven locks were sticking up messily.
“Who is he?” I asked slipping my leash over the dogs head.
“I’m Benjamin.” The child’s tone implied I should have known that.
“You are?” I bit my lip and gave Kyle a worried look. “Is your sister okay?”
He exhaled roughly and nodded. “She asked me to take Benjamin because she was feeling under the weather. She had a lot of swelling and tenderness and she can’t handle him right now.” He hugged himself as he spoke.
“For how long?”
“At least two weeks.” He looked pale. He stepped aside and waved me inside. Then he whispered, “I don’t know anything about kids. I know even less than I do about dogs.”
I felt bad for him because he really did look panicked. “Well, um…maybe I can help you.” It was pure guilt that made me offer.
“Do you know anything about children?”
I winced. “Not really.”
“Then it would be the blind leading the blind.” He frowned. “Besides, I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”
I glanced at Benjamin who was tugging on Rascal’s tail while making fire engine noises. “Do you at least have any friends with kids that you could call?”
Shaking his head he said, “No. All my friends are superficial assholes like me.”
“Sorry kid.” Kyle patted the boy’s head. “Don’t tell your mom.”
I rubbed my chin. “Well, you’re going to need help. Something tells me he’s a handful.” I nudged Benjamin’s fingers away from the dog’s tail for the millionth time.
Rubbing his face tiredly, Kyle muttered. “God, this is such a nightmare.”
“It’s okay, Uncle Kyle,” Benjamin tugged at Kyle’s leg. “I’ll help you.”
I laughed. “Aww, that’s sweet.”
“Yeah.” Kyle didn’t seem as impressed as me. “Oh, shit, I left the stove on.” He hurried away in the direction of the kitchen.
I studied the child and he quietly did the same to me. “Did you know you have jelly on your chin?” I asked.
The kid froze and started wiping at his face. “Where? Did I get it?”
“No. Do you want me to help you clean it off?” I asked, dropping the leash and holding out my hand toward the child. I figured if I treated him like the dogs I walked maybe he would respond to my calm authority.
“Promise you’re not a murderer?” Benjamin asked. I thought it was kind of cute that he took my hand before I even answered.
“I already killed all the people I’m allowed to kill today.”
Benjamin giggled. “You’re silly.”
This sounds good! I love stories with children!What inspired this story? Any real events or people? No. It’s all out of my head. I just thought it would be a funny situation to have an uptight suit type have a dog and child thrust upon his perfect life.
Do you outline or are you a panster? Both. Simple stories I’m a punster. Complicated ones I always have an outline.
Do you find pictures of your characters, write up bios for them? (tell us who you vision the characters as or describe if you like) Nah. I’m way too lazy for that. But they are real people in my mind.
Do you have any pets? I have one immortal zebra finch. It will out-live us all I swear.
*S.C.pats me patiently on the head and gently removes me from beside the birdcage*
Ok, sorry, they don’t call me chatty Cathy for nothing. I will take off and let you finish your story. Thank you for letting me spend the day with you.
Good luck on your release of Painful Lesson’s
TITLE: Painful Lessons
PUBLISHER: Dreamspinner Press
COVER ARTIST: Anna Sikorska
LENGTH: 200 Pages
RELEASE DATE: January 01, 2016
BLURB: As a freshman both in love and in college, sometimes there are painful lessons to be learned.
Excited to begin his first year of college, Brett Bridgeworth has just one problem: he sucks at math. Luckily there’s the sensual and mysterious math tutor, Jeremy Price, to help him out. It isn’t long before Jeremy is tutoring Brett in more than just pie charts, but it isn’t until they split up that Brett discovers Jeremy’s twisted, obsessive side.
Sam Hawthorne is two years ahead of Brett, and they share a strong mutual attraction. When Brett breaks it off with Jeremy and gets involved with Sam, disturbing things start happening. It soon becomes obvious that Jeremy isn’t willing to let Brett go without a fight.
I definitely don’t want what I’m about to share to look like I’m bragging. But I think it’s important to give a glimpse into my first sexual experiences because it has a lot to do with who I am, or at least who I was, when I went through all of that shit with Jeremy. Looking back, now I can see so clearly that I was like a sail with the line sliced, flapping uselessly in the cool sea breeze. Well, maybe I’m getting ahead of the story a little bit. I tend to do that sometimes.
I’ve always been bad at math. I mean, like, really awful. But I’d managed to get through high school because my teachers liked me. Mr. Winter, my algebra teacher, liked me a whole lot. So much so that, senior year, he made a deal with me; he’d give me an A if I let him suck me off.
Mr. Winter wasn’t one of those hot teachers we students fantasized about. He wore a lot of loud polyester shirts, and he had a pot belly. I went back and forth about his offer, and I did a bit of research on the Internet so I’d know what I was getting into. But ultimately I agreed, because if I failed algebra I’d be held back, and that would be way too embarrassing to me and, more importantly, my dad.
My dad owns Bridgeworth Electronics, and if his kid failed high school he’d probably have a heart attack. So I let Mr. Winter pull the blinds, unzip my jeans, and do his thing. The sight of him on his knees and the glare off his shiny bald head was all very surreal. I remember being super nervous because, while I was eighteen and I knew I liked guys, I’d never been touched by one yet. It was just me and my faithful hand, up until Mr. Winter introduced me to fellatio.
At his first touch I was numb inside and grappling with insecurities. Would I come too soon? Would he be too rough? Or worst of all, was he going to make me suck him off? But the initial warm slide of his mouth chased those fears away. Old dude or not, my eyes rolled back in my head, and I’d thrust into his mouth, oblivious to the world around me. Afterward he’d grinned up at me with a crooked, lecherous smile, as if we were somehow coconspirators.
For my first time, it was a little seedy and humiliating. I’d certainly never pictured my initiation to a BJ happening quite like that. But I had to admit his lips on me still felt great, so I shoved down the feelings of shame and took my A. I never saw Mr. Winter again, and I went on toward college still horrible in math but no longer pure as the driven snow.
I spent my summer waiting for responses from the colleges I’d applied to, and worried someone would find out about me and Mr. Winter’s arrangement. Would they be able to retract my grade if they knew what I’d done to get it? I’ll admit to feeling guilty about the whole arrangement with Mr. Winter, but the thought of failing had been too terrifying. When my acceptance letter arrived from UCLA, I put thoughts of my old math teacher behind me and spent the rest of the break celebrating with my friends.
I will say, after my sexual encounter with Mr. Winter, it was as if my hormones woke up for real. I became a horndog of epic proportions. My dad hired a new pool guy for the summer, and he was the opposite of Mr. Winter. This guy was probably in his thirties and hot. I mean smoking, Zac Efron hot. We exchanged lusty looks for a few weeks before anything actually happened. One day after swimming, I was showering in the small side building near the garden, and Lex walked in on me.
He set his pool skimmer against the wall and pulled his shirt off with one yank. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and waited for him to make the first move. Soundlessly he dropped his shorts and underwear and walked up to me. I couldn’t believe what was happening, but I was excited to think this gorgeous guy wanted to do things to and with me. I believe I said a breathy, “Hi.”
“How old are you, Brett?” he’d asked, almost as if it was an afterthought.
“Eighteen,” I responded right before he pushed me against the slick white tiles and took my mouth roughly.
He tasted like tobacco and cinnamon, and his hands were rough on my hips. His cock wasn’t as wide as mine, but it was longer and it fit next to mine nicely. When the kiss ended, he began grinding his cock against mine, and the heat that flared in my groin was like an inferno. I grasped his shoulders and held on as lust rumbled through me like a steam engine. It wasn’t romantic by any stretch of the imagination. The ceramic tiles were freezing against my back, and they hurt my shoulder blades, but I didn’t care. I was young and ready to explore what I needed sexually.
I’d had a growth spurt toward the end of high school, and I was slightly taller than Lex. I clutched his damp chestnut curls and panted against the orgasm gathering at the base of my cock. He was louder than me. He groaned a lot and cussed as he threw his head back and flexed his hips like a jackhammer. I liked his noises. They were guttural and dirty, and they made me excited as my need ramped even higher. When we came the warm water washed the evidence down the drain as if it never happened.
I remember he stroked my cheek afterward, as I stared into his golden-flecked brown eyes. “That was nice,” he panted, and then he washed under the water with me, dried off with my towel, and got dressed. Right before he left, he turned and asked me, “Are you a virgin?”
I’m sure my cheeks turned red. They were warm now, thinking about how embarrassed I’d been to answer yes. Not to mention I wasn’t even sure if I was answering correctly. Was I a virgin? Did blow jobs count, or did not having had anal make me a virgin? But Lex had just smiled and quietly closed the door. I wasn’t a “virgin” much longer because a week later, Lex took me in that little shower area. I still remember the smell of the coconut-scented lube and the first burning glide of his cock in my untouched ass.
I learned a lot from Lex. The guy had zero inhibitions. We fucked our way through that hot summer, and when it came time to leave for college, I was thankful I didn’t have to go there not knowing anything about sex. I’d assumed I’d show up at UCLA horrible in math and a virgin, but thanks to Lex, only the “bad at math” part was still true.
My dad didn’t have time to drive with me to my new school. He said something about a crisis in the capacitor industry. I didn’t know what he was talking about, and it didn’t really matter because it wasn’t like it was negotiable or anything. Hey, how about you come to my college, see my room, and pretend you give a shit about me for a day? I’ll bake brownies for you?
Yeah, not gonna happen.
I guess at this point, I should mention the reason it was only me and him was because my mom died when I was ten. She went in for a routine hysterectomy and never came home. I remember coming back from school and finding my aunt Rose sobbing in the kitchen. She’d hugged me and my dad, and stayed for weeks to cook casseroles and keep the house clean. But after that she’d had to go back to her family in New York. Aunt Rose called me and my dad “her boys,” and she phoned to check on us often. But my dad’s never home, and I didn’t want to talk about my mom dying, so the time between calls had become longer and longer.
So back to my college experience. My roommate, Ted, was nothing like me. He was boisterous and loud and straight as a ruler. He was hugely into sports and talked about football nonstop. I, on the other hand, knew little about that subject, preferring reading and sketching to getting dirty and running around a field with a pigskin.
We still found some common ground since we both enjoyed eating. We always went to the cafeteria together for all our meals. Generally his jock friends would descend, and I’d sit mostly in silence, shoveling my cheese macaroni in like a machine. I think having Ted as my roommate protected me from being picked on by his homophobic buddies. They gave me hard looks and didn’t sit too close to me, but nobody ever said a disrespectful word to me.
One of the guys I didn’t mind so much. He had auburn hair and light green eyes, and he always smelled like vanilla. His name was Sam Hawthorne, and he was the only one who would speak to me without looking like he was afraid my gayness would get on him. I didn’t hide that I was gay, but I also didn’t flaunt it. The “gayest” thing I did was wear a small diamond stud in my ear that was one half of a pair of earrings my mom had owned. I didn’t wear the earring to make a statement as much as it made me feel connected to my mom.
I soon learned I liked being away from home. When nobody knew me, I could be different and didn’t have to play the role I’d always felt had been thrust on me: good son. Grieving son. It had been eight years since my mom died, and while I missed her and her quirky sense of humor, I wanted to live a little. These were my college years, and I was expecting to have new and exciting experiences. I wasn’t supposed to sit around trying to remember what my mom looked like, although sometimes the fact that I had trouble recalling her features bugged me a lot and made me feel like a horrible person. So I’d pull out the crinkled picture I kept in my wallet. The photo was of a family vacation at the beach a year before she died. She looked happy, and we were both smiling like idiots. My dad wasn’t in the picture, and I guess I mean that both literally and figuratively.
5 meows 3 purrs (moderate heat)
First I want to say I love this cover. It is simple but drew me to the book. It has a powerful impact.
Brett is a freshman in college. He doesn’t have a good relationship with his father and his mother passed away when he was young. He craves affection and attention. Needing to ge his math up to speed ad to not let his father down, Brett hires a tutor. Jeremy is dark, brooding, mysterious and sexy. He is also good at knowing what his students need as he meets up and checks out all his students. His friend Sam hints at there being something wrong with Jeremy but Brett doesn’t believe it. Not until he experiences it in spades.
I absolutely loved this story. I loved all the characters…Jeremy included. Sam and Brett are on my favorite couple list for this year. I adored their dynamics, the way they fit, their different personalities. I am also putting this book on my favorite list as well. I loved the coming of age feel, the new adult experience as Brett learns some painful lessons and finds love and things out about his father. There are a couple stories going on here, Brett’s feelings for his father and relationship, the issues with Jeremy and his relationship wth Sam. There are a lot of lessons we can all learn.
If yo like new adult gay romance, rich men that don’t show it, mysterious, dark protagonists, suspense, sexy gingers and of course some hot man-sex you will love this nook. I’m highly recommending it to all m/m romantic suspense lovers.
S.C. Wynne started writing m/m in 2013 and did look back once. She wanted to say that because it seems everyone’s bio says they never looked back and, well S.C. Wynne is all about the joke. She loves writing m/m and her characters are usually a little jaded, funny and ultimately redeemed through love.
S.C loves red wine, margaritas and Seven and Seven’s. Yes, apparently S.C. Wynne is incredibly thirsty. S.C. Wynne loves the rain and should really live in Seattle but instead has landed in sunny, sunny, unbelievably sunny California.
Writing is the best profession she could have chosen because S.C. is a little bit of a control freak. To sit in her pajamas all day and pound the keys of her laptop controlling the every thought and emotion of the characters she invents is a dream come true.
If you’d like to contact S.C. Wynne she is amusing herself on Facebook at all hours of the day or you can contact her at [email protected]
Winner’s Prize: $10 Amazon GC + E-copy of Painful Lessons
Runners Up Prize: E-copy of Painful Lessons
January 4: Man2ManTastic
January 6: Divine Magazine
January 11: BFD Book Blog
January 14: RJ Scott