Hello everyone! I’m ecstatic to have Romance Author Kerry Freeman with me today. Please say hi and leave her a comment or two below.
Kerry was born and raised in Alabama, and she grew up swearing she was going to get the hell out of Dodge the instant she could. Turns out Dodge ain’t so bad, and she never left. Alabama’s version of a city girl, she married a country boy, and the adorkable couple lives in a small town with their two socially awkward dogs.
Kerry loves to write about love, and it turns out most of the voices in her head are men. She also loves to write about the South, so most of her stories end up there, one way or another.
A tomboy and a geek from way back, Kerry has a day job but dreams she will one day write full time. She has a weakness for yaoi, Japanese stationery, YA, and ginger-haired singers from Britain. She owns an impressive t-shirt collection. Nowaki & Hiroki are her homeboys.
Multicultural Contemporary / 118 pages
After playing eleven years in the Minor Leagues, Coach Matt Hawley has returned to his tiny Alabama hometown to lead his old high school baseball team to their first state championship. At the other end of the state, René Días, who left the Major League after one season, is getting his team ready to defend their state title for the second straight year. One is in the closet. The other is between relationships. Neither has any intention of hooking up at the state tournament.
Then they see each other.
Pre-game lust turns into an intense one-night stand neither man can forget, and when their best friends embark on a romance, Matt and René are thrown together again. This time they decide it won’t be for just a single night. But the fear of disappointing his minister father and shaming his family forces Matt to keep one foot in the closet, even as he and René find their lust is maybe something more. He’s going to have to make a choice between between his family and his freedom.
What do you find the hardest part of being an author?
The hardest part for me is that my muse has ADD. I have multiple plot bunnies at any given time, and I have a difficult time concentrating on just one.
Our muses must be related, lol. What’s you favorite thing about writing?
My favorite thing about writing is getting lost in the story. Sometimes the characters take over, and the story goes off in a direction I don’t expect.
Just how H.O.T. are most of your books?
Oh, I don’t really leave a lot to the imagination *evil grin*
How sweet or romantic do they tend to be?
My books are probably best described as erotic romance. The stories include a lot of romance, sometimes sweet.
Do you have a specific writing style?
I set my stories in the South, and my characters are usually Southern. I try to write with a Southern sensibility and a good dose of humor to balance out the angst.
Boxers or Briefs?
I buy my husband boxer briefs. I love ‘em! 🙂
Mmm… me too *sigh* Favorite author?
“I was under the tragic spell of the South, which you’ve either felt or haven’t.”
Pulphead: Essays by John Jeremiah Sullivan
What’s next for you?
I’m working on a wedding story for NaNoWriMo, trying to get 50K words in a month. Wish me luck.
Best wishes and luck. I’m doing the same with my 2nd book, eak!
How about a little taste of Pine Tar & Seet Tea (my fav drink, btw)?
The clubhouse was sweltering, and René took his cap off to wipe his brow. The rows of lockers and wooden benches always reminded him of playing in the majors, where reporters wouldn’t even wait for the players to get fully dressed before accosting them for quotes about that night’s game. He’d never quite become comfortable with holding court while dripping wet and towel skirted. Then again, he’d never quite become comfortable with a lot of things he encountered his one year of major league play.
“Good afternoon, Coach Días.” The umpire walked toward him with an extended hand. “Good to see you again.”
René shook the umpire’s hand. “Good to see you again too. Hopefully you’ve had a good year.”
“A very good year. Thanks for asking.” The umpire nodded at David. “Hello, Coach Reynolds.”
“Hey, Bob,” David said, smiling. “No need to be so formal. We’re old friends by now.”
“Let’s just say I definitely wasn’t surprised to see your team back in the finals.” The umpire smiled. “Gonna be a great series, that’s for sure. Your opposition looks good.”
René’s ears practically twitched at the mention of the team from North Alabama. “Have you met their coach yet?”
“Met him this morning. He’s quiet, seems pretty serious. Nice fella too.” The umpire chuckled. “Speaking of which… Hello, Coach Hawley.”
The gracious greeting René planned stuck in his throat the instant he turned and gazed into a pair of intense blue eyes. René forced himself not to gaze up and down the opposing coach’s tall, tight body, but he couldn’t help following as Hawley slowly licked his lips. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the man had the most incredible wheat-blond hair just begging to be pulled.
David cleared his throat. “Um, Coach Hawley, I’m David Reynolds, Mobile’s first-base coach.” He shook Hawley’s hand. “This is René Días, our head coach.”
René finally remembered he was supposed to talk. “Nice to meet you, Coach Hawley.” René held out his hand.
Coach Hawley wrapped his long fingers around René’s hand and held on to it. “Nice to meet you too. Call me Matt, though.”
“We’ve been looking forward to playing your team.” René smiled when Matt’s grip tightened. “I’ve heard great things about how you’ve developed the team since you took over this year. Congratulations on your first state final.”
“Thank you. This is your school’s third year in a row here. That’s a sure sign you’re doing something right down in Mobile.”
If there was a sure way into René’s good graces, it was to compliment his team. He could think of plenty of other ways the gorgeous Matt Hawley could impress him—most involving them being naked together—but they had a few baseball games to play. René released Matt’s hand and tried to ignore David’s bug-eyed look at his side.
The meeting with the umpire was a formality. They discussed the rules of the best-of-three series and the umpire’s definition of the strike zone, and the coaches gave the umpire their batting order. René concentrated on each word of the umpire’s speech and blocked out the coach next to him. Baseball was serious business, and he couldn’t let Matt, however tasty he appeared to be, distract him. But as soon as the meeting was over, René found himself locked into that deep blue gaze again.
Matt swallowed slowly. “Well, René, it was nice meeting you. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” René could feel his cheeks heat. “Good luck to you guys too.”
Taking two steps back, Matt pulled on his baseball cap and smiled before turning to walk away. René couldn’t take his eyes off the slow sway of Matt’s hips. For just an instant, he imagined digging his fingers into those hips and the kind of bruises it would leave on Matt’s fair skin.
“Down, boy!” David punched René’s arm. “And retract your tongue before you close your mouth.”
René suddenly remembered where he was. “You think he noticed?”
“You’re kidding, right? I would say he noticed you every bit as much as you noticed him.”
“I meant— Oh!” René stared toward the door. “Cool.”
David shook his head. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he stomped off. “Biggest game of the year, and now he decides to take the dick out of storage.” He spun around and faced René again. “Just great!”
René jogged over to David and threw his arm around David’s shoulders. “Aww, come on, baby. Don’t be jealous.” He guffawed when David shoved him away. “You’re still my favorite guy, even if you kiss like a girl.”
An extended middle finger was the only farewell David gave him. Still chuckling to himself, René pulled his cap down over his eyes, adjusted himself, and walked into the sunlight to begin batting practice.