What was your favourite book as a child/teenager?
Taylor Caldwell, The Romance of Atlantis. She wrote it when she was twelve, which I found fascinating. It was a fantasy romance by today’s standards, I suppose.
Who was the first author or what was the first book you read that introduced you to the genre that you most enjoy writing in?
Josh Lanyon. He is the master, the kind of writer I aspire to be.
Do you believe in love at first sight? And if so have you ever been so afflicted? Did you do anything about it? (Did you go for it?)
No, I don’t think so. I believe in attraction at first sight, which has potential for love. Love is too complex for that boom! On first sight.
Is there a particular word you overuse or writing technique that your editor(s) ride you about?
Strolling. My editor did virtual eye rolls after awhile. Now I’m attuned to how my characters move—no strolling.
Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? (Or do you even believe in it?) If so, how were you able to overcome it?
Yes, I’ve had writer’s block. I think part of it was trying to shoehorn a story into a frame that couldn’t work. Once I decided to let the story be what it wanted to be, things got better.
If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?
I haven’t traveled widely. Right now I’d say in Colorado. It’s what I know.
If you could bring one of your own characters to life, who would it be and why?
I’d say Ty in the WIP. He’s a man after my own heart, and I’ve poured a lot of myself into him.
What are you reading right now?
Just started Dead in LA by Lou Harper
When you read, do you prefer a stand-alone or a series?
Either, as long as I can read the series from the start!
If you were to do a reality show, which one would it be?
Yikes! I’m not big on reality TV. Maybe Bear Grylls Get Out Alive.
What is the craziest, most exciting, or most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?
I can’t talk about it!
Name a celebrity, athlete, musician, etc. you’d most like to get naughty with.
Bradley Cooper, maybe.
What is your favourite way to promote or connect with fans?
Right now I’m finding Facebook to be the best. I do blog, but that’s gone on the back burner with edits this summer.
Favourite movie?
It changes. Right now, The Words and Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Dream Vacation?
Italy, some day.
Dream Car?
Hmm…Porsche 911!
Favourite Ice Cream Flavour?
Magnum Gold Mini ice cream bars. They’re delicious!
What can readers look forward to next?
For one, there’s a Christmas novella in the works. The next novel is about a doctor who travels to Sudan for seven months, risking his relationship with a math professor.
Please tell us about your newest release.
Author: Whitley Gray
Title: High Concept
Genre: M/M contemporary romantic suspense
Publisher: Loose Id
Release Date: September 10th 2013
Buy Link: Loose Id: http://www.loose-id.com/high-concept.html
Blurb:
Denver homicide cop and shooting survivor Beck Stryker lives to solve the case that left him with PTSD, chronic pain, and killed his co-investigator four months previous. Now his career hinges on his ability to work with the man who shut down his advances two years ago.After last parting ways with Beck, psychiatrist-turned-FBI profiler Zach Littman never anticipated seeing the detective again. Being sent to Denver to work on a series of killings that have continued after the only suspect died is bad enough. Discovering the detective in charge is Beck leaves Zach gritting his teeth and girding his loins.
The last thing either of them needs is romantic entanglement with a fellow investigator, but danger is a powerful aphrodisiac. The case heats up, and friction between them ignites a fire neither can ignore, first at work and then in the bedroom. As they zero in on the plot behind the murders, the crosshairs zero in on Beck and Zach.
Excerpt:
Damn rainy weather.
Beck’s left shoulder ached, and he rearranged his holster. If this kept up, he’d need pain meds to sleep tonight. Meanwhile, time to take a break and sneak some ibuprofen. Even if it was a nonsteroidal, couldn’t have the boss thinking he wasn’t 100 percent and ready for the field.
He made for the men’s room. In a stall, he dry-swallowed three of the blue gelcaps, then peed and washed his hands. On the way back to his desk, he stopped at the drinking fountain and gulped water, making sure the pills would dissolve. Twenty minutes, and relief should kick in.
Beck reached his desk and lowered himself into the chair. A pile of reports sat waiting for his attention. Ridiculous. He was a homicide detective, not a secretary. This was a waste of his skills. Field cases waited, infinitely more interesting and requiring a detective’s intuition.
Across the room, Van met his gaze and looked away. Beck spun his chair toward the windows behind him. Sheets of water rippled down the windows, blurring the building across the street.
After the shooting, Beck’s ex-lover had made it clear as still water that there was nothing left between them. At least Van had understood the pressures of the job, the danger, both on the street and in the department. Homicide was a macho division, and the other detectives were unlikely to accept an alternate orientation. He and Van had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps. Had they had a relationship or just been fuck buddies?
Nights in a soft bed, Van’s hot tongue everywhere until Beck squirmed with need. A firm grip on his cock, stroking.
“What would you like tonight?”
Heat rushed to his groin. Mind-blowing sex—no doubt about that—but was that all they’d had?
They’d never eaten at a restaurant unless it was out of town. They’d never taken a vacation together. Van liked sun and sand and room service; Beck preferred snow and skiing and grilled steaks at the lodge. And they never stayed over at each other’s places.
Sure didn’t sound like a relationship. Hell, when he’d been lying in the hospital with his shattered shoulder pinned together, wondering if his hand would ever work again, he’d turned to Van expecting emotional support, and his lover had gunned down the only thing Beck had left.
Van had left nothing at Beck’s apartment except travel brochures.
The first time Beck had risked his heart, and he’d gotten blown away for his trouble. Staying secreted in the closet precluded Van paying attention to a disabled boyfriend. “It would look strange if I spent extra time with you,” Van had said, and he’d been careful not to visit more often than any of the others. At that point, Beck had wished his injuries had been more severe, that the bullet had hit a few inches to the right and down, preempting Van’s assault on Beck’s heart. Death had sounded better than total bereavement.
Anger had overtaken depression in short order. The first thing he’d done after arriving home was deep-six the tropical-vacation brochures littering the kitchen counter.
In the ensuing weeks, Beck had fought through the pain of physical therapy and the loss of the relationship.
As Beck’s psychologist, Jay had helped him work through most of that. And the painful inquiry about the shootings.
“Hey.” Soft brown eyes gazed down at him, wary, not welcoming. The familiar scent of Van’s bay rum aftershave reached Beck, and his stomach clenched.
“Well. What can I do for you, Detective Gates?”
Van plopped a folder on his desk. “Got a computer request that needs your expertise.”
“Don’t think I can help you.” Beck picked up a pen, tapped it on the folder. “I’m not a computer expert.”
Van’s full mouth thinned, lips pressed together. “It’s a search for vehicle license plates. Need it for the murder book.”
Helpless to resist, Beck’s gaze wandered down Van’s chambray-clad torso. The memory of burying his face in Van’s groin set off a twitch in his own.
“Hey, dickhead. I need the information.”
Head in the game, Stryker. “What’s the case?”
For a moment, Van said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard. Then, “It’s a home invasion.”
It was Beck’s turn to stare. Another one? “When did that happen?”
“A week ago.”
“What’ve you got so far?”
“You’re not on active duty in the field, Stryker. And you’re not part of my investigation.”
Beck barked a laugh. “Same supportive bastard, aren’t you?”
A faint pink materialized high on Van’s cheeks. He opened his mouth, closed it.
Beck waited, twirling the pen.
“Just get the information.” Van turned on his heel. In spite of himself, Beck took a surreptitious look at Van’s ass as he marched back to his desk. Too bad there wasn’t more to him than a hot body.
Across the room, Van’s partner, Katie Coleman, gave him a huge smile. If she were a guy, maybe she’d pique Van’s interest. As it was, she’d be wasting her time. Bats for my team, Coleman. Beck swung his gaze toward the folder.
Whether Van acknowledged it or not, Beck was part of the investigation now.
Damn rainy weather.
Beck’s left shoulder ached, and he rearranged his holster. If this kept up, he’d need pain meds to sleep tonight. Meanwhile, time to take a break and sneak some ibuprofen. Even if it was a nonsteroidal, couldn’t have the boss thinking he wasn’t 100 percent and ready for the field.
He made for the men’s room. In a stall, he dry-swallowed three of the blue gelcaps, then peed and washed his hands. On the way back to his desk, he stopped at the drinking fountain and gulped water, making sure the pills would dissolve. Twenty minutes, and relief should kick in.
Beck reached his desk and lowered himself into the chair. A pile of reports sat waiting for his attention. Ridiculous. He was a homicide detective, not a secretary. This was a waste of his skills. Field cases waited, infinitely more interesting and requiring a detective’s intuition.
Across the room, Van met his gaze and looked away. Beck spun his chair toward the windows behind him. Sheets of water rippled down the windows, blurring the building across the street.
After the shooting, Beck’s ex-lover had made it clear as still water that there was nothing left between them. At least Van had understood the pressures of the job, the danger, both on the street and in the department. Homicide was a macho division, and the other detectives were unlikely to accept an alternate orientation. He and Van had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps. Had they had a relationship or just been fuck buddies?
Nights in a soft bed, Van’s hot tongue everywhere until Beck squirmed with need. A firm grip on his cock, stroking.
“What would you like tonight?”
Heat rushed to his groin. Mind-blowing sex—no doubt about that—but was that all they’d had?
They’d never eaten at a restaurant unless it was out of town. They’d never taken a vacation together. Van liked sun and sand and room service; Beck preferred snow and skiing and grilled steaks at the lodge. And they never stayed over at each other’s places.
Sure didn’t sound like a relationship. Hell, when he’d been lying in the hospital with his shattered shoulder pinned together, wondering if his hand would ever work again, he’d turned to Van expecting emotional support, and his lover had gunned down the only thing Beck had left.
Van had left nothing at Beck’s apartment except travel brochures.
The first time Beck had risked his heart, and he’d gotten blown away for his trouble. Staying secreted in the closet precluded Van paying attention to a disabled boyfriend. “It would look strange if I spent extra time with you,” Van had said, and he’d been careful not to visit more often than any of the others. At that point, Beck had wished his injuries had been more severe, that the bullet had hit a few inches to the right and down, preempting Van’s assault on Beck’s heart. Death had sounded better than total bereavement.
Anger had overtaken depression in short order. The first thing he’d done after arriving home was deep-six the tropical-vacation brochures littering the kitchen counter.
In the ensuing weeks, Beck had fought through the pain of physical therapy and the loss of the relationship.
As Beck’s psychologist, Jay had helped him work through most of that. And the painful inquiry about the shootings.
“Hey.” Soft brown eyes gazed down at him, wary, not welcoming. The familiar scent of Van’s bay rum aftershave reached Beck, and his stomach clenched.
“Well. What can I do for you, Detective Gates?”
Van plopped a folder on his desk. “Got a computer request that needs your expertise.”
“Don’t think I can help you.” Beck picked up a pen, tapped it on the folder. “I’m not a computer expert.”
Van’s full mouth thinned, lips pressed together. “It’s a search for vehicle license plates. Need it for the murder book.”
Helpless to resist, Beck’s gaze wandered down Van’s chambray-clad torso. The memory of burying his face in Van’s groin set off a twitch in his own.
“Hey, dickhead. I need the information.”
Head in the game, Stryker. “What’s the case?”
For a moment, Van said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard. Then, “It’s a home invasion.”
It was Beck’s turn to stare. Another one? “When did that happen?”
“A week ago.”
“What’ve you got so far?”
“You’re not on active duty in the field, Stryker. And you’re not part of my investigation.”
Beck barked a laugh. “Same supportive bastard, aren’t you?”
A faint pink materialized high on Van’s cheeks. He opened his mouth, closed it.
Beck waited, twirling the pen.
“Just get the information.” Van turned on his heel. In spite of himself, Beck took a surreptitious look at Van’s ass as he marched back to his desk. Too bad there wasn’t more to him than a hot body.
Across the room, Van’s partner, Katie Coleman, gave him a huge smile. If she were a guy, maybe she’d pique Van’s interest. As it was, she’d be wasting her time. Bats for my team, Coleman. Beck swung his gaze toward the folder.
Whether Van acknowledged it or not, Beck was part of the investigation now.
Copyright © Whitley Gray
Bio
Once upon a misspent youth, Whitley read and
wrote stories under the covers at night. At some point, real life intervened,
bringing with it a career in the medical field. After years of technical
writing, Whitley took on the challenge writing romance. Inventing characters
and putting them in interesting situations turned out to be addictive, and
having two heroes is twice as nice. A pot of coffee and a storyline featuring a
couple of guys makes for a perfect day. Stop by www.whitleygray.com and feed
your fix for heat between the sheets and M/M romance.
Author Website: www.whitleygray.com
Author Blog: Blog: http://whitleygray.blogspot.com/2013/09/high-concept.html
Congratulations on hitting the Best Sellers list at Amazon, Whitley!
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