Archive for the ‘Excerpt’ Category

Ethan’s Excerpt

Friday, August 25th, 2017

I’ve put up an excerpt from True: Ethan. You can read it here

Are you excited the story’s coming out this Tuesday? I’m totally excited!

An excerpt for "Chains"

Tuesday, January 22nd, 2013

Is up on my site! You can read it at:

click the pic to learn more about Chains

Erotic Romance Scavenger Hunt

Friday, May 25th, 2012

The Erotic Romance Scavenger Hunt is a blog hop featuring nineteen authors, a ton of exclusive material and fantastic giveaways, and an amazing grand prize for one lucky scavenger hunter.

Just joined the hunt? Click here to start from the beginning.

RULES: Hidden within each post on the hunt will be a single letter that is red. Jot those letters down because they’re part of the following mystery phrase you’ll need to unscramble:

_ _ _ _ I _ _     _ _ _ _ _ _ _     _ _ R     _ _ _ _

At the bottom of each post will be a link to your next stop on the hunt. Once you’ve completed the hunt, read all the fantastic exclusive material and entered all the individual giveaways, unscramble the letters you collected to reveal the mystery phrase. When you’ve uncovered the phrase, fill out the entry form in order to qualify for the grand prize. Grand prize is open internationally. You must be 18 or older to enter.

The hunt will only be open for 72 hours so play fast! Entries sent without the correct phrase or without contact information will not be considered. All entries must be received by May 28 at noon Central Time.

On with the hunt!

Hey, all! My name is Rowan McBride, and welcome to my blog. Today I have the pleasure of hosting Angel Martinez, who has a gift for writing fairy tales and sci-fi. She also rocks at seamlessly fusing the two genres to create something new, which blows my mind. So far my favorites from her book list are “Boots” and “Vassily the Beautiful.” Here’s a bit more about her:

Angel Martinez is the erotic fiction pen name of a writer of several genres. Her experiences as a soldier, a nurse, a banker, and an underpaid corporate drone give her a broad view of the world and a deep appreciation for the astounding variety of people on this small planet.

She currently lives part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware and full time inside her head. She has one husband of over twenty years, one son, two cats, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate.

To learn more about Angel, please visit


Sub Zero
A new M/M Science Fiction Novella by Angel Martinez
Coming September 2012 from Amber Allure

Major Aren Dalsgaard’s newest assignment is to investigate a series of murders on the frigid planet, Drass, where relations between the Treaty settlers and the natives have taken a nasty turn. A linguist and trained xenologist, Major Dalsgaard should be comfortable with the case. So why is this assignment the hardest he’s ever faced?

Drass is where he died, over a hundred and twenty years ago.

Excerpt (from Chapter Two: The Goblin Problem):

As they passed through the security doors, Aren pulled Sergeant Wickstrom back a step to murmur. “Earpiece in, Emma, on my personal translation channel. It’s possible I might not want our local friends to understand every word I say, but I don’t want you to miss a syllable.”

“Yes, sir.”

The lights grew brighter as they rounded the corner into a corridor lined with the cell viewing windows. Captain Underwood stopped at the third on the left, with a nod to its occupant. “There he is, Major.”

Oh, yes, he looks like a dangerous character to me. The dangpo male lay on his side, hands cuffed behind him, cheek pressed to the plasticrete floor. Slender, with delicate features, he appeared hardly more than a boy. His chest rose and fell in uneven pants. His long, white hair lay plastered against his skin in damp strands.

“Captain, what’s the temp in this cell?” Aren fought to keep his voice soft and even.

“A little warmer than it is out here, sir.”

“I assume you know that’s not healthy for him.”

The captain gave him another of those odd, bland looks. “Helps soften them up for questioning, Major. We don’t believe in coddling criminals here.”

Lower it, please. I’d prefer to have a conscious suspect to question.” He stripped off his coat and gloves, which the sergeant retrieved with quick efficiency. “Ice. Water. This boy looks a bit past ‘softened’ to me.”

To their credit, his escort didn’t grumble over his orders. The lieutenant returned quickly with the requested items and a report that the cell temperature was dropping.

“Have the door opened for me, Captain,” he ordered and then held up a hand when the whole delegation would have followed him. “I need to do this alone, please. He won’t say much of anything with a whole squad looming over him.”

“But he’s dangerous, Major!” Mr. Cisneros protested. “He’s killed four people!”

“Allegedly killed four people, sir. He’s cuffed. He’s half my size. I think I can manage.”

“Sir?” Sergeant Wickstrom broke in. “If you—”

“I’ll signal if I need you, Sergeant. I assume these are standard viewing panes? One way?”

“Yes, Major.”

“Then you all can keep an eye on proceedings and rescue me if our desperado gets out of hand.”

The young man barely twitched when Aren stepped into the cell. Not good. He pressed the ice pack to the prisoner’s forehead and waited for his eyes to open.

“Good afternoon. My name is Major Aren Dalsgaard, and I’m here to ask you a few questions.”

“Registered,” came the faint reply. “Jack Waters. Registry band. Please…” Frightened black eyes stared up at him. “Registered.”

“Yes, I know.” Aren slid an arm under the young man’s shoulders and helped him sit up. “Here, drink. It’s just water. Nice and cold.”

“Jack” drank in desperate gulps, and then sat back, staring at him from behind his curtain of disheveled hair.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

The young man shook his head, though whether that meant he didn’t know or that he didn’t understand the question was unclear.

Aren sat cross-legged on the floor facing him and switched to dangpo. “You’re name is not ‘Jack Waters,’ is it?”

The dark eyes narrowed and he persisted in answering in standard. “Registered. Have band.”

Talk to me, please. God, I’ve missed hearing the language. “Child, you are too young to be chilok khyimtshang.”

“I am not a child!” the young man shot back in his native language. “I have seen twenty and four summers!” He scooted back, derision coloring his soft voice. “Did you learn to speak dangpo from old tapes? You sound like my great-grandmother.”

“It’s possible that I knew your great-grandmother.”

A toss of his head cleared half the hair from his face. “You are not so old.”

“I am somewhat older than I look.” Aren placed his hands on his knees, palms up, hoping it still meant he wished peaceful negotiation. He jerked his head to the cell door. “The chigyel, they think you killed that woman last night.”

The young man’s mouth dropped open on a strangled squeak. “What? No! I was trying to help!”

Aren tilted his head one way and then the other, a gesture of understanding. “Tell me what happened. From the beginning. Perhaps you could start with your name.”

“Why should I trust you?” the young man cried out. “You, a chigyel who smells of offworld things, who tries to imitate our speech, our manners! You try to make me think you are a friend, but you are no different from the rest!”

“You’re too young to remember, of course. But I had a family, once. I made my home with the Changki pod, adopted as one of their own.” He raised his right hand, index finger curled under his thumb to indicate a sworn truth. “I am Serpodom.”

The prisoner let out a hysterical laugh. “Now you think me stupid. Serpodom died a hundred twenty and three summers past.”

“Yes. I did. In pain and anguish, I died.” Aren unbuttoned his uniform jacket and slid out of it as he spoke. “I am Serpodom, the voice of the dangpo. My beloved’s name was Akarnyima, the hunter.”

The youngster’s eyes darted back and forth, uncertain and off-balance. Aren undid his shirt cuffs and continued. “Akar taught me to live here, to speak, to love. He gave me my first hunting knife and a khyi pup named Dawanying. Do you know the story? Do I have it right so far?”

Black eyes wide, the young man nodded.

Aren started on his shirt buttons. “A day came when Akar and I were fishing. The sun was bright. The fish seemed to leap into the nets. We laughed and chattered, distracted by our happiness. We heard the ribul slithering through the snow too late. I killed it, but it had bitten my Akar. He wasn’t one of those who survive a ribul bite. My beloved died screaming.”

“But before he died, he went mad,” the young man said in a breathless rush, obviously caught up in the story. “Raving and half-blind, he struck out with his venom spurs and stabbed his Serpodom in the shoulder.”

His hands shaking in the chill room, Aren slid off his shirt. The young man gasped when he revealed the blue circle of the zi chiwa venom site on his shoulder. “And his Serpodom lay down beside him to die. Do they tell what my last words were before I died?”

The white-haired head nodded rapidly.

“I said to the Changki, my family, ‘Don’t weep. My place is with him.’ Is that what they say?”

“Yes.” The young man’s complexion had faded to an unhealthy shade of gray. He curled over his knees with a little moan. “How can this be? How…I don’t feel well.”

“Should I help you to the bowl?” Aren asked in a gentler tone as he pulled on his shirt.

“No…I…no. Just…how are you here? Only the Changki know those final words.”

Longing stabbed through Aren, sharper than any surgical blade. “You’re Changki? What’s your name, little one?”

Rocking, with his head against his knees, the young man murmured, “Nyachung.”

Little fish. It suits him. “The chigyel have a way of freezing the body, of preserving it so it remains undamaged and unchanged. When they found a way of reversing what the venom did to me, they thawed my frozen body and woke me.”

“They ripped you from death? From your rest? From your Akar’s side?”

“Yes.” Aren finished his buttons and stared at his hands. “Though I don’t remember anything about death. So maybe I wandered lost and never was beside him.”

Nyachung lifted his head, swallowing hard. “It is an evil thing they did. I sorrow for you, for your loss.”

“Thank you. Though I am pleased to meet Changki again.” Aren resumed his open palmed position. “Nyachung, I want to help you. To try to protect you. But you must tell me only truth. Why did you come to the city?”

“On family business. The khepa bumé sent me.”

All right. Evasion, I think, but not a lie. “Tell me what happened last night.”

“I have a room near the stone river. Walking back to it, I saw someone dragging a heavy bundle. He put the bundle down and began pulling things off. As I moved closer, I saw the bundle was a woman. He was pulling her clothes off. I thought…thought he was taking her by force. I didn’t know she was dead.”

“You had no reason to. Can you describe the man?”

“No. It was dark and he had a scarf wrapped around his head.”

Of course. That would’ve been too easy. “What happened then?”

“I yelled. I wanted to frighten him off. He pulled a long knife from his coat. I was…I was afraid.”

“A sensible person would be.”

“Yes. And I know it was wrong. We are forbidden to extend the venom spurs in the city. But he lunged at me. I…I had no other weapon.”

“Did you strike him?”

Nyachung ducked his head. “No. I tripped and struck a metal post. The man ran off.” His white ears turned a pale blue, showing his acute embarrassment. “And then the city guards came and shouted at me and threw me to the ground.”

Aren fought against a smile. The situation wasn’t at all funny, but Nyachung’s mortification was endearing. “You’re not a hunter.”

“No. I am the pod’s third tale-singer.”

“And I think you were sent here, to ask questions, to negotiate, to trade, whatever the reason, because you are a good speaker, persuasive and gentle. You speak the chigyel language better than you pretend, don’t you?”

That got him another shame-faced nod. Oh, to be so young again. “They speak so fast here, and when I didn’t understand, they spoke fast and loud, which only made things worse. I pretended to be stupid.”

“It must have been frightening. Be patient. Be brave. I will go speak with the chigyel.” Aren clambered back to his feet, gratified that he managed without calling for help.

“I will try.”

He made a gesture toward the viewing pane, confident his observers monitored every move, and the cell door clicked open on cue. “Do what they ask. Answer their questions honestly. If you’ve done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear.”

While he wished he had more to offer, fervently wished he could order the cuffs taken off, it was the best he could do for the moment. Steady. Stay focused. Empirical evidence. You’re feeling protective because of his family associations, and you’re not here to be a white knight.


One Good Year

If you’d like a fab 8×10 glossy pic of Spade from the One Good series (and you do– I mean, look at all the sexy!) just make a comment below. A winner will be drawn at random and announced on this blog the evening of May 28th.

Ready to move on? The next stop on the Erotic Romance Scavenger Hunt is…

Avril's Banner

Avril Ashton

Good luck!

Let’s ready to HOP!

Wednesday, April 25th, 2012

I keep telling myself that I’ll write better post titles. It doesn’t appear to be working

I’m participating in two blog hops in May, and I’d like you to hop along with me!

Hop Against Homophobia logo

The first is for Hop Against Homophobia, which runs from May 17th to 20th. May 17th marks the International Day Against Homophobia, so a lot of authors are getting together to share their thoughts and experiences. I encourage you to participate, not only to win prizes (I’ll be giving away a hardcopy of Want Me), but to share your stories with us as we share ours with you. You can find more information here.

Scavenger Hunt Logo

On May 25th, Miho Li is hosting a scavenger hunt. Follow the clues to solve the puzzle, and you’ll be entered to win twenty books, including an e-copy of One Good Hand, the first book in the “One Good” series. During the search, authors Katrina Strauss, Z.A. Maxfield, Sloan Parker, and many more will be posting content exclusive to the hunt. I don’t know who I’ll draw yet, but the writer who gets me will post a sneak peek of the first chapter of One Good Verse, the third story in its series. More details can be had on Miho’s site.

It should be good. I hope to see you.

A Bit of Fluff

Thursday, February 16th, 2012

A couple of months ago, my editor at Torquere suggested I write a bit of bonus material for Just Perfect. Something from Cody’s point of view that showed what he might see in Draven. At first I had reservations, but when I started, I felt…good. So good that the piece came out 300 words over word count.

click the pic if you'd like to learn more about Just PerfectIt reminded me how much I really do love the sweet and fluffy stories. I’ve been in a dark place lately and I think my stories have been reflecting that (in really fun and twisty ways), but this tiny little excerpt made me smile. The combination of my editor’s suggestion and the card my friend sent me a while back is probably what got me going on One Good Year. It’s funny how events sometimes come together in odd and perfect ways.

Not that I have any plans to abandon my twisty stories. 😉

We had to cut the word count down to 500 before posting it on the Torquere social group, but I got permission to post the original version on my site. You can read it here.

I hope you like it.

Excerpt: Just Perfect

Monday, January 9th, 2012

click the pic to learn more about Just Perfect

Excerpt: Just Perfect

Rowan McBride

Available January 18th from Torquere Press 🙂

Just Perfect © 2012 by Rowan McBride. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in whole or in part without author’s permission.

Flagging down a taxi was easy enough. I settled him inside and climbed in after. “Cody, tell the cabbie your address.”

He turned his head, his cheeks flushed with liquor. “You’re coming home with me?””Yeah,” I said, keeping my gaze fixed on the seat in front of me.

Cody chuckled and told the driver his address.

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his shoulders shaking. “I just feel like laughing.”

I glanced at him, taking in that smooth, flawless skin. “For a second there I didn’t think you’d ever laugh around me again. Not like that.”

“Back in the bar…” He rubbed at the tears forming in his eyes. “It felt like you were coming to my rescue. Like old times.” He focused on me, his gaze going from playful to piercing and back again. “Silly, huh?”

I’d never seen eyes like that. “I don’t think it is.”

He curled his legs into the seat, tucked his arm under his head. “I think I’m drunk.”

“I think you are too.” But hell if it wasn’t adorable.

Cody went quiet, staring at me. I tried not to squirm under the attention, but damn. He didn’t say another word until we’d arrived at his apartment complex.

He fumbled for his wallet and I stayed his hand. “I’ve got the cash; don’t worry.”

His arm fell to the side. I paid the cabbie and scooped Cody into my arms, lifting him out of the taxi and surveying the complex.

Cody laughed. “This is just like when I twisted my ankle and you carried me to the nurse’s office. Remember that?”

I smiled down at him, held him a little closer. “I remember you begged me to put you down the whole way there. Is that what you want now?”

“Nah.” He waved his hand, like he was trying to sweep the question out of the air. “It’s late. Doubt anyone’ll see us this time around.”

This time around. Hopefully that meant I had a second chance in more ways than one. “Where to?”

He flung his arm out and pointed to our right.

I carried him to the building and through the lobby. We rode the elevator to the seventh floor, and he threw his arm to the left.

“It’s number 706,” he said lightly.

When I stopped in front of his door, he wriggled his way out of my arms.

Shit, his body felt good.

Cody fumbled for his keys, managed to get the door open. I helped him inside and closed it behind us.

His knees buckled and I hooked an arm around his waist, holding him against me.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling again.

The breath skittered in my chest. I’d never been dazzled by a smile before. “Any time.”

“So this is my place,” he said, gesturing to the studio apartment before sliding his palms up my arms. His head fell onto my shoulder. “You smell like fresh-tilled earth.” He chuckled into my shirt. “Shit, I really am drunk.”

My body tensed–could he smell the death around me? Was he saying I smelled like a grave?

“Hard as a rock,” he murmured. “Just like I remember.”

I groaned, unable to take it anymore as I tipped him backward. “Cody,” I said, getting brave because he was drunk, “what kind of guys are you in to?”

He laughed and thrust his hand into my hair. “I like them tall and dark.” He gave my head a hard tug. “I like them to have all the muscle I could never pack on to my own body.”

My lips parted.

His gaze dipped to my mouth, and he lifted his other hand to brush a thumb against it. “Draven Donnor,” he murmured, all humor draining away. “My first crush.”

Learn more about Just Perfect at

Excerpts, Awards, and Opinions

Thursday, September 24th, 2009

One Shot

I have an excerpt up for One Shot! You can check it out, along with the blurb and other good stuff, on the story’s page on my site: Let me know what you think. 🙂


Lone has a page now for the Recommended Read stickers it has received since its release, as well as the various screencaps I couldn’t resist taking because I’m a digital packrat and {sigh} a geek (although, on a totally unrelated note, my geek card has been taken away, upgraded, taken away, and upgraded again several times over the past week, lol). Check out the brand spankin’ new awards page at

Thank you to everyone who’s read Lone. It’s had an amazing response and it was a pleasure building an awards page for it.

Want Me

I’m holding a poll on my Yahoo!Group (the platform I use for my newsletter) regarding Want Me. You have to sign up for the mailing list to vote, but it’s a very low traffic list (news only, my record being five updates in one month) and you can always set your preferences to “no mail.” Whatever option you decide, I’d appreciate your input. The link to my newsletter is: and the direct link to the poll is:

I think that’s it! I had a fab time at Dragon*Con. I’m planning on posting a more detailed update regarding the convention (plus pics!) on this blog in the next few days. W00t!


Tuesday, April 28th, 2009

If you’ve had any contact with me in the last couple of weeks, you know the only thing I’ve been able to talk about lately is Lone. That is because I’ve been hitting the final round of edits, and just today finished looking through the galley (the final version of the novel before its release and hence my last chance to find and fix typos).

Did you know my last book release was in July of 2008? God, my editing stamina leaves something to be desired. Halfway through reading the galley, I had to set the zoom on my word processor to a hundred seventy percent. A hundred seventy. My eyes were straining that bad.

But the good news is…it’s out of my hands. The book is done, and will be released from Amber Allure on May 3rd. This is the part where I’m supposed to take a deep breath but of course I’m in the middle of my traditional pre-release insane author panic. I know it’s a good book. Possibly one of my best. But still, it’s always a harrowing experience and it never seems to get easier.

You can read an excerpt on my site here. I hope you like it. 🙂

Click the pic to learn more about Lone

If you’d like to learn more about Lone, check out my website at

Warm Rush– still lovin’ it.

Wednesday, March 4th, 2009

Note: This blog was originally published on my MySpace blog, April 16, 2007.

Warm Rush

I recently received a review for my very first e-book—Warm Rush. Although the reviewer wasn’t familiar with Muscle Growth as a genre, she enjoyed the book and said it contained a twist “unlike anything else I’ve ever read.” Which got me thinking…

Man, I love this story!

And I remembered how a few of my friends told me how much they enjoyed the t-shirts that Jesse sold from his store, which was also called Warm Rush. More than one said they’d totally buy one.

Well, now you can.

I thought it would be fun to make the t-shirts featured in the story available in real-life, because—wow—how cool would that be? So I played around with it, and I’ve opened a Warm Rush Online Store. You can check it out here:

All three of the t-shirts described in the book are there: from the one Jesse spots a stranger wearing on the plane, to the one Keith has on just before Christmas, to the one Ryan wears while sitting on the porch. And all the shirts have a Warm Rush logo printed on the back, which—oh yeah—has me downright giddy.

I hope you have as much fun with the shirts (and one mug!) as I did. I’m also posting an excerpt from the story below, so let me know what you think (of the review, of the Store, and of the excerpt).


Warm Rush
Copyright 2006, Rowan McBride
This work cannot be copied or distributed without written permission from the author.

Note: Keith is eighteen and perfectly legal, so no sending me angry letters.

It was freezing. I huddled deeper into my blankets, realized it wouldn’t help. I rubbed my eyes and looked at my empty bed, then at the clock.

1 a.m.

Well, the boy didn’t sleep. Couldn’t expect him to spend all his time in the bed.

The sound of movement downstairs surprised me. He was still in the house?

I looked around for my cane, smiling when I found it propped against my night-stand, just like yesterday. I gingerly got out of bed and maneuvered myself into some clothing before I made my way down the stairs. The harsh light of the kitchen made me blink, and when I was able to focus, my breath actually stalled somewhere inside of me.

Keith leaned against the island counter, eating the pie Mrs. Bailey had dropped off earlier, without a stitch on.

My gaze traveled over his naked body. From his broad shoulders, to his bulging arms, his tight waist. It rested briefly on the hard, rounded muscles of his glutes, then traveled down his powerful, long legs.

A teenaged god was eating pie in my kitchen.

He turned his head and smiled. “Hey, Jesse. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

My hand went to my chest. Did my heart just skip a beat? I felt 13 again, trying to deal with my first crush. “N-No. You didn’t wake me.” I forced my gaze to the counter, to the rainbow of food containers arranged across its surface. “Quite a spread you’ve got there.”

“Oh, yeah.” His grin turned sheepish. “I got hungry. Is it alright that I’m eating your food?”

I limped over to the counter. “Have as much as you want.” It looked liked he’d taken a little bit out of every food item the neighbors had brought today. I guess I would have room for juice, after all. “Is it good?”

“Yeah, but…” He speared another piece of pie. “This apple pie is the greatest.”

I couldn’t help smiling. His energy chased the chill away. “I’m sure. Mrs. Bailey always loved to bake.”

“Want me to cut you a slice?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

“You didn’t eat very much at dinner today.”

He was still staring at his pie, his face relaxed. But now there was no playfulness. I’d only eaten half of my hamburger today. I thought he hadn’t paid attention, but apparently I’d been wrong about that. My track record with this kid was getting worse by the second. “I wasn’t very hungry.”

“None of this food had even been touched when I started in on it. Did you eat anything before dinner?”

I tried to remember. “Probably not.”

“So have a piece of pie.”

“I’m really not hungry.”

He loaded his fork and held it toward me. “Just try it.”

I jerked my head away. “I’m not a child, and I’m not an invalid. I can decide when to eat.” Angry now, I started to walk back to the bedroom.

Keith’s arm looped around me, and suddenly I was sitting on top of the counter. He smoothed my hair back from my face and kissed me.

Reminded of all the fire we’d just shared, my body reacted instantly, willingly. My lips parted, and he slid his tongue into my mouth. He’d taken a bite of pie, and he pushed it past my teeth.

It tasted of apples and cinnamon and syrupy sweetness. I swallowed the small bit of pastry, and then I sucked on his tongue, wanting more. My hands slipped around his neck, holding him close as I swept his mouth clean.

He broke the kiss, breathed husky words into my ear. “Wasn’t that good?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“You think if I put some on my cock, your appetite might return?”

My breath hitched as I drew back, stared into his eyes. Intent, adult, sensual. Fighting him was getting harder and harder. “A possibility.”

A soft smile played on his lips as he reached for the pie.