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You Gotta Read Reviews Admin Team

Monday, January 30, 2012

Welcome H.C. Brown

Where do you hail from and what do you love most about your hometown?

HC. I love on the glorious Gold Coast in Australia where the sun shines seven days out of ten. I love the beach and the peace and quiet.

* As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? How has that childhood dream affected your career?

HC. I wanted to be a teacher. I taught Physics . . . yuk but I studied English literature among other things and have always wanted to write.

* Tell us about your latest book. Do you have anything new in the works and can you tell us a bit about it?

HC.  My latest book is Lord & Master, Historical M/M BDSM Erotic Romance.
Blurb:
Lord Reynold Wilton, fearing exposure after a public argument with his sex slave, Lord David Litchfield, leaves England for the Americas. On his return, he finds his delicious man in the hands of a brutal sadist. In a time when homosexuality is a hanging offense, Reynold must use every trick in the book to regain the possession and trust of his young lover.


* Have you ever used contemporary events or stories “ripped from the headlines” in your work?

HC. Yes, I wrote Burn after the bushfires here in Queensland about two firefighters risking their lives to help people.

* Is there anything you find particularly challenging about writing?

HC.  I am always trying to make my stories better. I am super critical of my work and I often doubt my abilities to convey what I mean. Every story is a challenge but one I love.

* What advice would you give to writers just starting out?

HC. Learn your craft. Write what you enjoy or know best. Join critique groups and listen to what people have to say about your work.  Show don't tell and always remember ambiance.



Lord & Master

Excerpt:
Lord Reynold Wilton opened his pocketbook and paid the tailor's account, grateful to be finally out of uniform. He met the gaze of Mr. Joseph Brown. The man had produced every inch of clothing he had worn since a boy. "Have everything else sent over to Spencer Street. There's a good man."
Donning the new hat he'd purchased from Locks in Bond Street, Lord Reynold pulled on his gloves and turned to look in the mirror. The new, delightfully comfortable, clothes fit well. Soft and fresh against his skin, the linen provided a welcome change from his stagnant, uniform shirt and stiff smalls. At last, after three despicable years, he resembled a gentleman again. The new clothes, ordered by letter some three months prior, had surprised him with their elegance. Mr. Brown had tailored each garment in the height of fashion, right down to the fine, lawn ruffles and silver buttons. White silk stockings and a cloak of the finest, black wool lined in silk completed his dress. He rubbed his chin and smiled ruefully at his reflection. The breeches stretched tight about his thighs and bottom, and Mr. Brown had pinched the jacket in at the waist to enhance the width of Reynold's shoulders. The cravat lay in exquisite folds. Dressed as such, in blue velvet, with his hair tied in a neat queue, he knew how men of his predilection would react to his appearance. Christ, I look like a peacock. In truth, his body had changed from soft to hard and muscular, but a commission in the Americas did that to a man. His face had altered too, but not in a bad way. He had not suffered any serious injury during his time abroad, but the man with haunting eyes in his reflection had replaced the innocent expression of youth.
Although, relieved by the sale of his commission and consequent arrival in England, his thoughts were not on returning immediately to his country estate in Surrey. Rather, he had spent the last two days in his townhouse close to Hyde Park, not wanting to endure the immediate duties of lord of the manor.
Lord Reynold stepped from the shop and glanced down Oxford Street. Nothing of note had changed in London during his time abroad with exception of women's fashion and the volume of carriages barreling along the dusty roads. He drew a deep breath to enjoy the scents of normality after enduring an eternity of stinking jacks and sweat. The smell of gunpowder and the unforgettable stench of a military camp had combined with horrors a man could never forget.
For three long years, Reynold had remained abroad. Christ, he had little choice. His role as master had become impossible after another very-public argument with David had threatened to expose them both. To avoid the scandalmongers and the chance of prosecution for the act of sodomy, he made the heart-wrenching decision to leave his lover.
Reynold stood for a few seconds to enjoy his surroundings. There had been a meager amount of birds brave enough to negotiate the noisy camps, and his heart lifted to see an abundance of sparrows feasting on a discarded crust of bread on the footpath. Above a blue sky peeked briefly through a profusion of white fluffy clouds. A stream of sunlight bathed a rose bush sitting in a large, yellow glazed pot beside the milliners next door. The rich perfume from the red blooms mixed with the pungent odor of horse dung squashed on the road. The hay infused clumps thrown in all directions by the constant stream of carriage wheels. Everything is so normal, as if no one knows a war of great proportions is looming.
Moving toward the curb, Reynold called out to his driver to take him to Charters, a gentlemen's club in Vauxhall, and climbed into the carriage. He sighed, rested his head on the back of the seat, and closed his eyes. A familiar memory flooded his consciousness. The vision of a young man, exceptionally featured, with a soft gaze the color of a summer sky, hooded with long, tawny lashes. He groaned, recalling his sweet slave's sated expression from hours of glorious sex. The young body so deliciously secured, his skin damp and flushed from his master's cane. David.




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