M.Christian's ManLove Collection - A Very Special Sale!

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

Here's an excellent chance to pick up my celebrated ManLove Collection of queer erotic/fiction books at a special discounted price - and BodyWork:Male-Male Erotica for FREE!

Stroke the Fire: The Best ManLove Stories ofM.Christian
Now Only $3.99!

Sizzling tales of bad boys, bruised hearts, and sweaty encounters. Lambda Award finalist M.Christian’s stories of men-who-love-men have been selected for Best Gay Erotica, Best American Erotica, and Best of the Best Gay Erotica. Eavesdrop on what hot men who are doing hot things with other hot men say to each other between the sheets ... and up against the wall. Start reading the fiery ManLove fiction of M.Christian with this personally selected collection of his very best stories.

M.Christian's stories are the fairy tales whispered to one another by dark angels whose hearts and mouths are brimming with lust. He goes beyond the pale, ordinary definitions of sexuality and writes about need and desire in their purest forms. Readers daring enough to stray from the safety of the path will find in his images and words a garden of delights to tempt even the most demanding pleasure-seeker.

 - Michael Thomas Ford, Lambda Award winner

M.Christian is a literary stylist of the highest caliber: smart, funny, frightening, sexy -- there's nothing he can't write about ...  and brilliantly.

- Tristan Taormino 

The Very Bloody Marys
Now Only $3.99!
Can San Francisco survive a marauding gang of Vespa-riding vampires? Before it's sucked dry, the city's only hope may be gay male Valentino, only a trainee for the supernatural law enforcement agency, Le Counseil Carmin. Swept up in the whole blood-sucking business when his mentor goes missing, Valentino is called upon to deal with the menace of these "Bloody Marys." But Valentino soon realizes that, in order to dispose of the gang, he must go into areas he never dreamed of, deal with some very strange characters and learn the truth about the dark side of town. The Very Bloody Marys is a horror novel about vampires, ghouls, faeries, and the undead that move around after dark. Part chase, part gallows humor, and all shivery excitement, this man love story from the wildly imaginative.

M.Christian creates a variety of quirky characters from wizards to zombies to fairies, and the tone captures the feeling of a fast-paced horror movie, alternately funny and creepy.

- HorrorWorld

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Dirty Words:Provocative Gay Erotica
Now Only $3.99!
Here it is: the Lambda Literary Award Finalist Dirty Words: the queer collection shows just how hot and imaginative Manlove erotica can be!  From mischievous Native American spirits, to victims of cybernetic nightmares, these stories will amaze, amuse, terrify, fascinate and – always – excite you. Subtle and not, these well-crafted tales will touch you – and always excite you – in ways you’d never expect.  With a very special introduction by Patrick Califia.

Dipping into his erotic prose is like being doused with a bucket of icy cold water on a sticky Summer’s day. It’s a sense awakening experience, which enlivens and sweeps you away in the same narrative breath. It’s dark, it’s dangerous, it’s horny, it’s mouthwatering, it’s witty and it’s sharp.  Read my lips: Read this book.

- Skin Two

Me2: The Classic Gay Gothic

M.Christian's controversial horror/thriller of queer identity is back in a brand new edition!  He looks just like you.  He acts exactly like you.  He takes away your job.  He steals your friends.  He seduces your lover. None of them can tell the difference. Every day he becomes more and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away what was yours … until there’s nothing left.  Where did he come from?  Robot?  Alien?  Clone?  Doppelganger?  Evil twin?  Long lost brother?  A fascinating novel of identity, Me2 is a groundbreaking Manlove chiller you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who you think you may be. (Despite rumors that this book was written by an impostor - but, rest assured, this is the real 'M. Christian.'  Accept no substitutes!)

Me2 is a unique and always entertaining fable-novel about what exactly identity may entail and how we may or may not decide whether it's worth the price of keeping it.

- Felice Picano, author of Art & Sex in Greenwich Village

Filthy Boys: Male-MaleErotica
Now Only $3.99!

A fantastic collection of queer erotica spanning both literature and hotter-than-hot erotica – with a special introduction by Lambda-Award winner Felice Picano.  Includes the celebrated stories such as "The Hope of Cinnamon," "Suddenly, Last Thursday," "That Sweet Smell," "Utter West," and "Friday Night at the Calvary Hotel"

If you are looking for sexually-charged fiction that also has heart and intelligence Filthy Boys is the collection for you.

- Emily Veinglory, author Lovers and Ghosts

To say this is a great book is an understatement. Filthy Boys transcends its genre of erotica and enters the realm of literature.

- Donovan Brown, author My Brotha My Brotha.

BodyWork:Male-Male Erotica
Now FREE!

There is simply no one better at writing hotter-than-hot gay erotica than the Lambda Literary Award Finalist M.Christian, and with this -- his newest collection -- you'll see why!  From cowboys looking for some same-sex love on the range to jocks working out in unique ways this book is guaranteed to reach out and give your gay desire a good tug! Check out this brand new book by an acknowledged master of genre and see why everyone says he's an wonderful erotic writer.

Reading these tales is like climbing on for a sexual magic carpet ride through different times and places, diverse bodies, and infinite possibilities.

- Carol Queen 

Rarely is raunch paired with such style and wit, M.Christian’s stories offer the sizzle of stroke-book sex combined with the dark lyricism of the perverse.

- Lucy Taylor 

DIRTY WORDS And RUNNING DRY - Out Now In Print!

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

Here's some great news for all your folks who are fans of dead-tree editions: the fantastic folks at Sizzler Editions has just released two of my queer books as print editions - each for just $9.00!

Running Dry: The Modern Classic of Gay Vampires

Manlove trilogy first time ever in one volume!

M.Christian's masterful queer thriller/horror series is now complete. He’s immortal. He drinks blood. But he's not a vampire. Doud’s totally unique – a being no one’s ever seen before – and he’s desperately lonely for a lover: a special someone who will not just join him in his bed but his strange life as well. But every time he thinks he's found someone it all goes horrifically wrong. Then one day a monster from his past returns: a thing of bitterness and fury he believed was long dead. Doud, with his friend Shelly in tow, begins a terrifying chase that begins in Los Angeles and ends in a blistering confrontation in the desert’s baking wastes. 

There, in the heat and the dust, Doud will confront what he is, what he’s become, his deepest and darkest sexual desires and lusts. Doud will get what he’s always wanted out of his long, strange life–but it will be nothing that Doud, or you, could ever have imagined!

Dirty Words: Lambda Finalist Man-Love Collection

Lambda Literary Award Finalist for best gay collection!

M.Christian shows just how hot and imaginative manlove erotica can be! From mischievous Native American spirits, to victims of cybernetic nightmares, these stories will enthrall, arouse, shock and – always – turn you on. M. Christian's well-crafted tales, filled with what some people call dirty words and dirty men, will touch you in ways you’d never expect. 

With a very special introduction by Patrick Califia. 

"A sense awakening experience, which enlivens and sweeps you away in the same narrative breath.... It’s dark, it’s dangerous, it’s horny, it’s mouthwatering, it’s witty and it’s sharp. Read my lips: Read this book."- Skin Two 

"To get the most out of M.Christian's haunting mix of rapture and horror, love of language and lust for flesh, read him out loud. If you have someone to read him out loud to, someone who knows that the best porn is also art, you're both very lucky." - Clean Sheets 

"Part folklore, part horror, part brutal romance - and all erotically kick-ass. Dirty Words takes readers in a tour of 14 contorted mental interiors and labyrinthine psychic dungeons inhabiting M.Christian's mind. Smart, hot, and vorpal-blade sharp, Dirty Words is perfect reading for those who love their sex fantasies in-you-face." -AVN

Excerpt From Running Dry: The Complete Series

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

Wheeee!  This is very cool - the very fun Gay/Lesbian Fiction Excerpts site just posted a teasing taste of my newly released Running Dry: The Complete Series (from the fantastic Sizzler Editions).  

Here's a bit of it - for the rest just click here.

 

EMPTY

 "You want some?" came a voice from the next-door stall: deep and mature, but not old; faintly lyrical but not threateningly exotic; alluring and tempting, but not shallow or jaded.

"S-sure," he stammered as he leaned forward to undo the latch, gently push the door open.

The similar sound of a cheap bolt being drawn back made his heartbeat race, a stroboscopic cascade of imagination making his eyes blur.

When he did appear, Vince saw that his voice was ... and could not be anything but, his: a face with lines of experience, but not aged; unique features, but without the fear of being too foreign; a sensually wry smile on delicate lips, but not mockingly lecherous.

Not old, but he immediately put his nearly-elegant and almost-refined face between thirty and forty; not local, but he dreamed of Cinzano umbrellas and waiters with thick mustaches ... a land within sight of an-always-turquoise Mediterranean; and a truly happy grin and an honestly playful dance of gray eyes. He wore simple but too-clean clothes, to be working simply: dark jeans, a pair of new-ish tennis shoes, and a black, well-washed, turtle-neck.

Standing, framed by the battered metal of the narrow bathroom stall, he looked down at Vince for a moment, as if doing the same cascade of imagination – and, as he did, Vince felt himself faintly blush: wondering how this handsome-but-not pretty man, who maybe (maybe-not) came from a warm land on a side of that southern sea, and who had asked to come over and suck his cock, saw him.

The floor of the bathroom was tiled, smudged and streaked here and there with whatever the owner of the Crooked Crow couldn't, or wouldn't be bothered, to clean, but it didn't stop him from kneeling down in front of Vince. The blush, at which Vince's face further warmed, didn't go away as the stranger put one hand, and then the other, on either side of Vince's thighs and gently – almost lovingly – parted them.

"You're new at this, aren't you?" the man said, with humor – but not laughter – in his voice. It matched the calmness in his touch; his playful, but not catty, tone. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"O-Okay," Vince said, his own voice coming out too many stepped-up octaves high.

From his right thigh, the man's hand deftly slipped further up, between Vince's legs to wrap firmly, but still kindly, around his hard cock. Vince's blush remained – but then faded quickly: he'd half-expected (and half-not) that his cock would fail him, that his naïveté would leave him at half-mast, and less-than-full-steam.

This time the other man did laugh – but with and not at – and squeezed Vince's cock ever-so tighter. "I think we'll have a good time," he said.

All Vince could do was nod – and that came as a basic, deep-down reflex.

Then the other man, the stranger, dipped his head down and – with a neat, smooth, and Vince suspected well-practiced gesture, put his lips around the head of his cock. The contact was almost an electric shock: a bolt of sensuality that made – another basic, deep-down reflex – Vince hiss, and then softly moan.

[MORE]

Amos Lassen Likes Running Dry

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

Now here's a treat: my great pal, Amos Lassen, just posted this review of the new edition of Running Dry - just released by Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions as part of their M.Christian ManLove special imprint.

 

Ernst Doud is non-human and 154 years young. He lives quietly in Los Angeles and all was fine until he got a letter from a lover he has not seen since 1913 and it was then that he killed him. Now that is a way to start a story as you soon realize that you are reading about the undead. Most of us love a good vampire story and I have often wondered why that is true. I suspect that there are two major reasons and a bunch of lesser ones. Vampires are very sexy and mysterious; they are dark and live forever.

This is a vampire story without all of the “vamping”. M. Christian writes stories that are quite far out yet maintain a sense of truth. This is his way of showing that our worlds can come together. We tend to fear that which we do not know and here is where vampires gain ground. We have never seen a vampire but he has a sense of mystery which is exciting and sexy. In this story we see the themes of vengeance, loyalty and “the humanity of the inhuman”. I believe vampires made a comeback with the AIDS epidemic when gay men’s lives depended on blood tests. The fact that blood is so essential in vampire lore has been a conundrum and an enigma for me especially when you consider the importance of blood in Christian religions and in Roman Catholicism when at the act of transubstantiation, wine turns into blood. Yet it is those very same religions that condemn vampires because of the emphasis on something that is so integral to what their members and religious leaders believe.

Unlike other vampire stories, here is one that will get the reader to think. This in one of those stories in which sex is not important but thoughts are. M. Christian is known as an erotic writer but this time he chose to forego sex and concentrate on the mind. Instead of using his literary skills to write vivid sex scenes, he chose not to write about sex this time and develop characters who not just sexual beings but who have minds with which to think. Instead of a lot of sex, we get a lot of adventure so this is not like other books in this genre. It may just be that M. Christian has begun an entirely new genre but I guess we may have to wait awhile to see if that is true. In the meantime there are many other opportunities to read M. Christian. He is always new and never bores.

Greener Grasses On GetLusty For Couples!

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

This is very cool: my queer BDSM story, The Greener Grasses - which is in my newly released collection, Filthy Boys, (and part of the Sizzler M.Christian ManLove imprint) - was just excerpted on the excellent GetLusty for Couples site.  Here's a link ... you need to register but there's no charge.

It's not often you hear of submissive males in erotica. We appreciate this perspective and recently had the pleasure of approving this erotica for your viewing pleasure. Because it's nice to hear erotic tales from the male point of view. Curious about the submissive gentlemen below? Erotica writer M. Christain will tantilize you with his erotic prose abilities. Read on, Lusties! Want more? Check out part 2 coming soon.
* * *
Hand on the knob, I took a deep breath. I resisted checking my watch again, not wanting to show, even just to myself, how nervous I was. Rules formed the world, framed it, and defined it. The door would only be unlocked from 1:15 to 1:25 PM. After that, the bolt would be thrown, and I'd have to come back next week – to a frightening punishment for being late.
I turned the knob. Open. I stepped in and closed it carefully. Japanese. I felt Japanese – or at least what I imagined it might be like – a member of a rigid world, where punishment for transgression was certain and terrifying. But I knew one thing for certain: I belonged to Mister Robert.
Down the hall, through the door at the end. The room. The room where I lived, where I existed: black carpeting on the floor and walls – even over the door. Bare wooden ceiling; rough, bare beams flaked with original white paint. Track light with three high intensity pots. One wall had a board bolted to it, on the board a line of cheap coat hooks. On the hooks the dark leather of the toys. Another board on the opposite wall, this one with two big eyebolts. In one corner the sawhorse. The room I wished I never had to leave.
I got undressed, carefully folding my clothes in a corner. I waited. Ten minutes, exactly. Then the door opened.
I didn't turn. To turn would break a rule. I was property; I belonged to Mister Robert. Property wasn't a man, with desires. Nevertheless, I was happy.
- See more at: https://couples.getlusty.com/Article/7609/Erotica!-The-Greener-Grasses-Pt-1#sthash.s0NNAVHD.dpuf

It's not often you hear of submissive males in erotica. We appreciate this perspective and recently had the pleasure of approving this erotica for your viewing pleasure. Because it's nice to hear erotic tales from the male point of view. Curious about the submissive gentlemen below? Erotica writer M. Christain will tantilize you with his erotic prose abilities. Read on, Lusties! Want more? Check out part 2 coming soon.

* * *

Hand on the knob, I took a deep breath. I resisted checking my watch again, not wanting to show, even just to myself, how nervous I was. Rules formed the world, framed it, and defined it. The door would only be unlocked from 1:15 to 1:25 PM. After that, the bolt would be thrown, and I'd have to come back next week – to a frightening punishment for being late.

I turned the knob. Open. I stepped in and closed it carefully. Japanese. I felt Japanese – or at least what I imagined it might be like – a member of a rigid world, where punishment for transgression was certain and terrifying. But I knew one thing for certain: I belonged to Mister Robert.

Down the hall, through the door at the end. The room. The room where I lived, where I existed: black carpeting on the floor and walls – even over the door. Bare wooden ceiling; rough, bare beams flaked with original white paint. Track light with three high intensity pots. One wall had a board bolted to it, on the board a line of cheap coat hooks. On the hooks the dark leather of the toys. Another board on the opposite wall, this one with two big eyebolts. In one corner the sawhorse. The room I wished I never had to leave.

I got undressed, carefully folding my clothes in a corner. I waited. Ten minutes, exactly. Then the door opened.

I didn't turn. To turn would break a rule. I was property; I belonged to Mister Robert. Property wasn't a man, with desires. Nevertheless, I was happy.

[MORE]

Kindle Give-Away! Get Running Dry FREE For Three Days!

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

This is exceptionally cool: for three days - starting today, May 14th - you can get the special edition of my gay/vampire/erotic thriller Running Dry absolutely FREE for Kindle! 

Just click on this link and you can start reading the brand new, expanded and enhanced, version of the book that will not just turn you on but totally change the way you think about vamps!

Every time he thinks he's found someone, it all goes horrifically wrong.

Manlove classic, first time ever containing the original story, the sequel novel, and a new, never-before-published concluding novella. M.Christian's masterful queer thriller/horror novel is back in print with 20,000 additional words.

He’s immortal. He drinks blood. But he's not a vampire. Doud’s totally unique – a being no one’s ever seen before – and he’s desperately lonely for a lover: a special someone who will not just join him in his bed but his strange life as well. But every time he thinks he's found someone it all goes horrifically wrong.

Then one day a monster from his past returns: a thing of bitterness and fury he believed was long dead. Doud, with his friend Shelly in tow, begins a terrifying chase that begins in Los Angeles and ends in a blistering confrontation in the desert’s baking wastes. There, in the heat and the dust, Doud will confront what he is, what he’s become, his deepest and darkest sexual desires and lusts.

Doud will get what he’s always wanted out of his long, strange life – but it will be nothing that Doud, or you, could ever have imagined!

#

"I found Running Dry to be a very good read indeed and especially enjoyed its message. Carpe diem, this story tells us. Love is a rare and wonderful thing; use the time that you have in this life to find it instead of reaching for the unattainable. Because where is the joy in a life lived alone?"
– Book Wenches 

"Let's see. Vampire bites man. Man becomes vampire. The biter and the bitten are in love. Must be a gay vampire novel. But not just another gay vampire novel. RUNNING DRY is, yes, about vampires. Hardcore vampires. Unless they're passing along the vampire gene, they don't just sip blood - they suck out every sweet empowering ounce of a body's bodily fluids, leaving behind but a dusty husk. Christian, author of hundreds of acclaimed short stories and editor of many fine anthologies, has crafted a brisk combo of decades-arcing romance, contemporary suspense thriller, and original horror story - Doud, the vampire longing for the lover he thinks he's lost forever, is a mysterious artist whose every painting is daubed with the blood of victims he's had to kill in order to survive, a spooky kind of homage. This is a rip-roaring read that ought to come with this warning: don't read the last page before starting the first, then devouring the rest. The book's ending is a shocker, as lives end and another begins. Enough said."
-Richard LaBronte 

"If you like fiction with gay themes their presence here is a bonus, but the reason to buy this book is because this book is good." - Emily Veinglory 

"With this impressive debut novel, one of our best short story writers shows why he is tops in his field; this book is fascinating, original, creative and can't be put down till it is finished. I cannot recommend it highly enough."
-Greg Herren, author of Murder In The Rue Dauphine and Bourbon Street Blues

Amos Lassen Likes Running Dry

(from M.Christian Queer Imaginings)

Now here's a treat: my great pal, Amos Lassen, just posted this review of the new edition of Running Dry - just released by Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions as part of their M.Christian ManLove special imprint.

 

Ernst Doud is non-human and 154 years young. He lives quietly in Los Angeles and all was fine until he got a letter from a lover he has not seen since 1913 and it was then that he killed him. Now that is a way to start a story as you soon realize that you are reading about the undead. Most of us love a good vampire story and I have often wondered why that is true. I suspect that there are two major reasons and a bunch of lesser ones. Vampires are very sexy and mysterious; they are dark and live forever.

This is a vampire story without all of the “vamping”. M. Christian writes stories that are quite far out yet maintain a sense of truth. This is his way of showing that our worlds can come together. We tend to fear that which we do not know and here is where vampires gain ground. We have never seen a vampire but he has a sense of mystery which is exciting and sexy. In this story we see the themes of vengeance, loyalty and “the humanity of the inhuman”. I believe vampires made a comeback with the AIDS epidemic when gay men’s lives depended on blood tests. The fact that blood is so essential in vampire lore has been a conundrum and an enigma for me especially when you consider the importance of blood in Christian religions and in Roman Catholicism when at the act of transubstantiation, wine turns into blood. Yet it is those very same religions that condemn vampires because of the emphasis on something that is so integral to what their members and religious leaders believe.

Unlike other vampire stories, here is one that will get the reader to think. This in one of those stories in which sex is not important but thoughts are. M. Christian is known as an erotic writer but this time he chose to forego sex and concentrate on the mind. Instead of using his literary skills to write vivid sex scenes, he chose not to write about sex this time and develop characters who not just sexual beings but who have minds with which to think. Instead of a lot of sex, we get a lot of adventure so this is not like other books in this genre. It may just be that M. Christian has begun an entirely new genre but I guess we may have to wait awhile to see if that is true. In the meantime there are many other opportunities to read M. Christian. He is always new and never bores.

Richard LaBronte Likes Running Dry

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

Here's another delightful review of Running Dry (out now in a new, complete, and totally WOW edition from Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions) from the great Richard LaBronte.

Let's see. Vampire bites man. Man becomes vampire. The biter and the bitten are in love. Must be a gay vampire novel. But not just another gay vampire novel. RUNNING DRY is, yes, about vampires. Hardcore vampires. Unless they're passing along the vampire gene, they don't just sip blood - they suck out every sweet empowering ounce of a body's bodily fluids, leaving behind but a dusty husk. Christian, author of hundreds of acclaimed short stories and editor of many fine anthologies, has crafted a brisk combo of decades-arcing romance, contemporary suspense thriller, and original horror story - Doud, the vampire longing for the lover he thinks he's lost forever, is a mysterious artist whose every painting is daubed with the blood of victims he's had to kill in order to survive, a spooky kind of homage. This is a rip-roaring read that ought to come with this warning: don't read the last page before starting the first, then devouring the rest. The book's ending is a shocker, as lives end and another begins. Enough said.

Billierosie Likes Running Dry

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

I probably say too much - but I really do have some truly wonderful friends.  Just take a look at this touching review Billierosie  posted for my very-first novel, Running Dry - out now in a new, expanded edition, from Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions.

Thanks so much, Billierosie: you are a real treasure!

In RUNNING DRY, M. Christian, elegantly re-writes the eternal themes of love, loss, betrayal, fear and death. With a flourish of his pen (or lap-top and cursor) Christian gives us a potent potpourri, that has little to do with gracious fragrances and everything to do with the pungent stench of bodily fluids; blood, bile, saliva and mucus.

This is a vampire story with a difference. Unlike Anne Rice’s exotic, erotic Lestat and Bram Stoker’s sinister Count Dracula, M.Christian’s vampires are riddled with guilt about what they have to do to survive. Ernst Doud, paints his guilt, with portraits lurid with the blood of his victims. Doud has a conscience, and he makes it up to those he has killed with a visual, tangible lament. His remorse is palpable.

There’s a mystery here. Who is Doud? Who is Sergio? What is their secret? Why has Doud given up on his art? Why is Sergio trying to seek out Doud? Why does Doud want to kill Sergio? What is Shelly’s place in all of this?

Yes, Doud and Sergio are monsters. They know it; Vince is a monster too. But he’s worse; he’s a killer without a conscience.

There is no “dark trick” in RUNNING DRY. Doud, Sergio and Vince won’t spellbind you with a glamour. In the tradition of the most gruesome fairy tales from the Brothers Grimm, or Angela Carter, they grab you, gobble you up; eat you. Your death won’t be romantic, erotic; sexy. Just complete, total annihilation.

The scene where Doud fights Vince in the desert, is terrifying. It’s visual; like watching a film. My heart is racing, as I read. I can feel the heat of the desert, scorching my lungs. I screw up my eyes, against the glare of the sun; the painful blue of the desert sky.

M.Christian, possesses a rare gift; that of making elegant, lucid prose appear effortless.

Just listen to this:

“...the world acquired sound, the ground achieved traction, the air thinned, the rose-red glow ceased. As his body slowed from the blinding acceleration Doud had forced upon it, the monster’s body completely disintegrated. A body once ninety-five percent water became nothing but a desiccated five percent, falling apart into dust, ash, and a few brittle bones; life and moisture gone.”

Don’t you wish you’d written that? I do!

For me, RUNNING DRY is every bit as good for a second reading; better. Buy it, borrow it, read it. It won’t fail you.

Book Wenches Likes Running Dry

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

Now here's a real treat: a very nice review of my neo-vampire novel, Running Dry, by Book Wenches!

He might be immortal, but artist Ernst Doud detests his state of being. The method he must use to stay alive fills him with guilt and makes him more a monster than a man. Although his loneliness is crushing, Doud has found that all his attempts to transform a lover to immortality have resulted in disaster, so Doud has chosen to live solitary life. The only person he is close to is his friend Shelly, the jaded and outspoken owner of a Los Angeles art gallery. 

When a man appears at Shelly’s gallery searching for Doud, Doud knows that Sergio has finally found him. Decades ago, Doud converted Sergio into a creature like himself in the hopes of having eternal love and companionship, but instead of remaining his gentle lover, Sergio became a bloodthirsty beast. And now that beast is seeking revenge against the one who made him and who subsequently tried to kill him.

Fearing for Shelly’s life now that his old lover has seen her, Doud snatches her away from her everyday world and runs. He wants to keep his friend safe from a monster who won’t think twice before draining her dry. But when Doud’s own hunger increases and his control grows thin, can he also keep her safe from himself?

#

When I opened M. Christian’s Running Dry for the first time, I expected yet another vampire story. A little extra angst, perhaps, and a GLBT twist but bloodsucking creatures of the night nevertheless – the same old same old. To my surprise and delight, I was completely wrong. This story about love, hunger, self-control, and the terrible cost of immortality is a fresh and intriguing take on the ever-popular vampire. This novel strips vampires of the pointy teeth, holy water aversion, and extreme photosensitivity that we have come to expect and instead offers readers a creature who is a hybrid of human and monster, whose sensitivity and emotions make him real but whose visceral need to kill makes him terrifying as well.

Mr. Christian has a literary and precise writing style that brings the action and the emotion into sharp focus and makes both the story and its characters feel completely real. He writes the way we might think, sometimes slightly stream of conscious but always intelligent and comfortable to read. He very expertly shows instead of tells, giving readers a chance to share in the discovery experience, drawing us in to the story until we feel almost a part of it.

Running Dry is one of those books that begins at a deceptively slow pace but then builds momentum as it goes along. Its short chapters keep the story moving forward at a fast clip, offering many tiny cliffhangers that keep us in constant suspense. I also found myself connecting with both the emotion and the horror of the story. The character Doud’s mental anguish permeates the entire narrative, coloring the simplest items in bleak tones. But even though Doud earns our sympathy, we can’t help but acknowledge the monster within him, because parts of the story are quite gruesome indeed.

I found Running Dry to be a very good read indeed and especially enjoyed its message. Carpe diem, this story tells us. Love is a rare and wonderful thing; use the time that you have in this life to find it instead of reaching for the unattainable. Because where is the joy in a life lived alone?

- Reviewed by: Bobby D Whitney

Out Now: Running Dry - The Complete Series

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

This is fantastic news: the great Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions - as part of the M.Christian ManLove Collection - has just released a very special edition of my queer thriller/horror/erotic novel Running Dry that includes not just the original novel but the erotic story that inspired the book ("Wet") and a never-before-published erotic epilogue story!

Not only that but the book is available as a free download to Amazon Prime Members!

Manlove classic, first time ever containing the original story, the sequel novel, and a new never before published concluding novella. M.Christian's masterful queer thriller/horror novel is back in print with 20,000 additional words.

He’s immortal. He drinks blood. But he's not a vampire. Doud’s totally unique – a being no one’s ever seen before – and he’s desperately lonely for a lover: a special someone who will not just join him in his bed but his strange life as well. But every time he thinks he's found someone it all goes horrifically wrong.

Then one day a monster from his past returns: a thing of bitterness and fury he believed was long dead. Doud, with his friend Shelly in tow, begins a terrifying chase that begins in Los Angeles and ends in a blistering confrontation in the desert’s baking wastes. There, in the heat and the dust, Doud will confront what he is, what he’s become, his deepest and darkest sexual desires and lusts.

Doud will get what he’s always wanted out of his long, strange life–but it will be nothing that Doud, or you, could ever have imagined!

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"I found Running Dry to be a very good read indeed and especially enjoyed its message. Carpe diem, this story tells us. Love is a rare and wonderful thing; use the time that you have in this life to find it instead of reaching for the unattainable. Because where is the joy in a life lived alone?"

- Book Wenches

"Let's see. Vampire bites man. Man becomes vampire. The biter and the bitten are in love. Must be a gay vampire novel. But not just another gay vampire novel. RUNNING DRY is, yes, about vampires. Hardcore vampires. Unless they're passing along the vampire gene, they don't just sip blood - they suck out every sweet empowering ounce of a body's bodily fluids, leaving behind but a dusty husk. Christian, author of hundreds of acclaimed short stories and editor of many fine anthologies, has crafted a brisk combo of decades-arcing romance, contemporary suspense thriller, and original horror story - Doud, the vampire longing for the lover he thinks he's lost forever, is a mysterious artist whose every painting is daubed with the blood of victims he's had to kill in order to survive, a spooky kind of homage. This is a rip-roaring read that ought to come with this warning: don't read the last page before starting the first, then devouring the rest. The book's ending is a shocker, as lives end and another begins. Enough said."

- Richard LaBronte

"If you like fiction with gay themes their presence here is a bonus, but the reason to buy this book is because this book is good." - Emily Veinglory

"With this impressive debut novel, one of our best short story writers shows why he is tops in his field; this book is fascinating, original, creative and can't be put down till it is finished. I cannot recommend it highly enough."

- Greg Herren, author of Murder In The Rue Dauphine and Bourbon Street Blues

Rainbow Reviews Likes Me2

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

Very cool review from Ryes from Rainbow Reviews about my queer horror/thriller Me2:

He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. Every day he becomes more and more like you, taking away that what was yours until there's nothing left. You may think you've met your match ~ or your double ~ but that's not even close.

Me2 is a psychological thriller about self and identity, written in a unique and interesting structure. The book starts off with an unnamed narrator who works at Starbucks. The narrator mentally labels the Starbucks customers by the flavor/cup sizes of the coffee they order and the personalities he associates with those coffees. This is not different from the way he views the world in terms of brand names. His description of himself also doesn't distinguish him from other men like him. His daily activities are routine, and he even gives his looks a name: a Boy of Summer look.

One of his Starbucks customers tells him about aliens, or clones, amongst us. They blend in with everyone else so you can't tell them apart. He starts wondering if there's someone out there trying to copy him in order to blend in. Suddenly, he starts seeing himself everywhere, and he's not sure why. Parts of the book read like dream sequences as his paranoia grows and he confuses small details like which car is his and which house is his.

The idea planted in his head about doubles and clones begins to consume all his thoughts and he comes to the conclusion that people really are copying details of himself to take over his life. As a result of all this, he begins questioning his identity and wondering what makes him different and what makes him an individual in a world operated by brand names and labels.

Me2 is set up with eleven chapters and three epilogues. Each of the chapters are titled (in order) "Me," "Me2," "Me3," "Me4," etc. The narrator of each chapter is not necessarily the same one from the previous chapters. The epilogues lead up to the publication of this novel, with an amusing letter from the editor to M. Christian (or whoever wrote this book).

Me2 is a well-written and well-thought out take on the issue of identity, and Christian writes with gripping and clear prose. He delivers the "horror" aspect without fail and executes a wonderful build-up. Me2 is an excellent novel that provokes thought and introspection; highly recommended.

"Love" From Filthy Boys

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

Just 'cause, here's a story from my recently-released queer collection, Filthy Boys.  I have a certain fondness for this story as it was written as a kind of thanks to all the gay men I've known - and who've changed my life for the better.

LOVE

"You could have stayed with me," he'd said the first time I went to Seattle to see him, but stayed in a motel.  I hadn't even thought of it, and so the disappointment in his eyes.

I never went back.  After he got promoted there wasn't any point.

You could have stayed with me evolves into a fantasy in which those four days play out differently: an invitation made earlier, my discomfort of staying in someone else's house miraculously absent.  Fresh off the plane, strap digging into my shoulder (I always over-pack), out of the cab and up a quick twist of marble steps to his front door.  A knock, or a buzz, and it opens.

A quick dance of mutual embarrassment as I maneuver in with my luggage, both of us saying the stupid things we all say when we arrive somewhere we've never been before.  Him: "How was your flight?" Me: "What a great place."

Son of a decorator, I always furnish and accessorize my fantasies: I imagine his to be a simple one-bedroom.  Messy, but a good mess.  A mind's room, full of toppling books, squares of bright white paper.  Over the fireplace (cold, never lit) a print, something classical like a Greek torso, the fine line topography of Michelangelo's David.  A few pieces of plaster, three-dimensional anatomical bric-a-brac on the mantel.  A cheap wooden table in the window, bistro candle, and Don't Fuck With The Queen in ornate script on a chipped coffee cup.

Dinner?  No, my flight arrived late.  Coffee?  More comfortable and gets to the point quicker.  We chat.  I ask him about his life: is everything okay?  He replies that he's busy, but otherwise fine.  We chat some more.  I say that it's a pleasure to work with him.  He replies with the same.

I compliment him, amplifying what I've already said, and he blushes.  He returns it, and then some, making me smile.  My eyes start to burn, my vision blurs, tears threatening.  I sniffle and stand up.

He does as well, and we hug.  Hold there.  Hold there.  Hold there.  Then, break – but still close together.  Lips close together.  The kiss happens.  Light, just a grazing of lips.  I can tell he wants more, but I'm uncomfortable and break it but not so uncomfortable that I can't kiss his cheeks.  Right, then left, then right again.

But his head turns and we're kissing, lips to lips again.  Does he open his first or do I?  Sometimes I imagine his, sometimes mine.  But they are open and we are kissing, lips and tongue, together.  Hot, wet, hard.

But not on my part.  Wet, definitely – in my mind it's a good kiss.  A generous and loving kiss.  Hot, absolutely, but only in a matter of degrees as his temperature rises and mine does in basic body response.

Not hard on my part, but I am aware of his.  Between us, like a finger shoved through a hole in his pocket, something solid and muscular below his waist.

Does he say something?  "I want you," "Please touch me," "I'm sorry," are candidates.  I've tried them all out, one time or another, to add different flavors, essences, spices to that evening.  "I want you," for basic primal sex.  "Please touch me," for polite request, respect and sympathy.  "I'm sorry," for wanting something he knows I don't.

"It's okay," I say to all of them, and it is.  Not just words.  Understanding, sympathy, generosity.  All of them, glowing in my mind.  It really is okay.

I'm a pornographer, dammit.  I should be able to go on with the next part of this story without feeling like ... I'm laughing right now, not that you can tell.  An ironic chuckle: a pornographer unable to write about sex.  Not that I can't write about myself, that making who I am – really – the center of the action is uncomfortable, because I've certainly done that before.  I've exposed myself on the page so many other times, what makes this one so different?

Just do it.  Put the words down and debate them later.  After all, that's what we're here for, aren't we?  You want to hear what I dream he and I do together.  You want to look over my mental shoulder at two men in that tiny apartment in Seattle.

I'm a writer; it's what I do, and more importantly, what I am.  So we sit on the couch, he in the corner me in the middle.  His hand is on my leg.  My back is tight, my thighs are corded.  Doubt shades his face so I put my own hand on his own, equally tight, thigh.  I repeat what I said before, meaning it: "It's okay."

We kiss again.  A friend's kiss, a two people who like each other kiss.  His hands touch my chest, feeling me through the thin cloth of turtleneck.  I pull the fabric out of my pants with a few quick tugs, allowing bare hands to touch bare chest.  He likes it, grinning up at me.  I send my own grin, trying to relax.

His hand strokes me though my jeans, and eventually I do get hard.  His smile becomes deeper, more sincere, lit by his excitement.  It's one thing to say it, quite another for your body to say it.  Flesh doesn't lie, and I might have when I gave permission.  My cock getting hard, though, is obvious tissue and blood sincerity.

"That's nice," "Can I take it out?" "I hope you're all right with this." Basic primal sex, a polite request including respect and sympathy, and the words for wanting something he knows I don't – any one of them, more added depth to this dream.

My cock is out and because he's excited or simply doesn't want the moment and my body to possibly get away, he is sucking me.  Was that so hard to say?  It's just sex.  Just the mechanics of arousal, the engineering of erotica.  Cock A in mouth B.  I've written it hundreds of times.  But there's that difference again, like by writing it, putting it down on paper (or a computer screen) has turned diamond into glass, mahogany into plywood.

Cheapened.  That's the word.  But to repeat: I am a writer.  It's what I do.  All the time.  Even about love – especially about this kind of love.

He sucks my cock.  Not like that, not that, not the way you're thinking: not porno sucking, not erotica sucking.  This is connection, he to I.  The speech of sex, blowjob as vocabulary.

I stay hard.  What does this mean?  It puzzles me, even in the fantasy.  I have no doubts about my sexuality.  I am straight.  I write everything else, but I am a straight boy.  I like girls.  Men do not turn me on.

Yet, in my mind and in that little apartment, I am hard.  Not "like a rock," not "as steel," not as a "telephone pole," but hard enough as his mouth, lips, and tongue – an echoing hard, wet and hard – work on me.

The answer is clear and sharp, because if I couldn't get hard and stay hard then he'd be hurt and the scene would shadow, chill, and things would be weighted between us.  That's not the point of this dream, why I think about it.

So, onto sex.  Nothing great or grand, nothing from every section of the menu.  A simple action between two men who care about each other: he sucks my cock.  He enjoys it and I love him enough to let him.  That's all we do, because it's enough.

He sucks me for long minutes, making sweet sounds and I feel like crying.  He puts his hand down his own pants, puts a hand around his own cock.  For a moment I think about asking him if he wants help, for me to put my hand around him, help him jerk off.  But I don't.  Not because I don't want to, or because I'm disgusted, but because he seems to be enjoying himself so much, so delighted in the act of sucking me, that I don't want to break the spell, turn that couch back into a pumpkin.

He comes, a deep groan around my cock, humming me into near-giggles.  He stops sucking as he gasps and sighs with release, looking up at me with wet-painted lips, eyes out of focus.  I bend down and kiss him, not tasting anything but warm water.

I love him.  I wanted to thank him.  I hope, within this dream, I have.  The night that didn't happen but could have.

For me, writing is just about everything: the joy of right word following right word all the way to the end.  The ecstasy of elegant plot, the pleasure of flowing dialogue, the loveliness of perfect description.  Sex is good, sex is wonderful, but story is fireworks in my brain.  The reason I live.  The greatest pleasure in my life.

And he has given me that, with nearly flowing letters on an agreement between his company and I, between his faith in my ability and myself.  He looked at me, exposed on the page of a book, in the chapter of a novel, in the lines of a short story, and didn't laugh, didn't dismiss or reject.  He read, nodded, smiled, and agreed to publish.

Sex cannot measure up to that.  Bodies are bodies, but he has given me a pleasure beyond anything I'd felt: applause, and a chance to do much, much more with words, with stories.

He doesn't have a name, this man in my fantasy.  There have been a lot of them over the years, and a lot more in the future, no doubt.  Gay men who have touched me in ways no one has ever touched me before, by making love with my soul through their support of my writing.  Each time they have, this fantasy has emerged from the back of my mind, a need to give them the gift they have given me: passion and kindness, support and caring, and pure affection.

I worry about this.  I worry that they won't understand, take this secret dream of mine as being patronizing, diminishing them to nothing but a being with a cock who craved more cock.  I've confessed a few times, telling a select few how I feel about them, how I wish I could do for them what they have done for me, to be able to put aside my heterosexuality for just an evening, an afternoon, and share total affection together.

Luckily, or maybe there really isn't anything to worry about, the ones I've told, they smile, hold my hand, kiss my cheek, say the right thing and to this day, even right now, make me cry: "I wish we could too, but I understand.  I love you too."

Am I bi?  I know I'm physically not – I simply don't get aroused by men – but that doesn't mean I don't adore men, or for the ones I care about, the men who have touched my soul through their support and affection for my stories and writing, I wish I couldn't change.  More than anything I wish I could give them what they have given me.

With a cock or a pen, with a story or hours of wonderful sex, it all comes down to one thing: love.

Orson Scott Card Should Not Be Writing Superman

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

I don't touch on politics ... much on my blog, but the idea of a homophobic bigot like Orson Scott Card being paid to write Superman - a symbol of liberty, trust, and justice - is completely offensive.

Here's a hyperlink to a petition to get Card fired ... and if you doubt his bigotry just click here (and here's a tease):

According to science fiction author Orson Scott Card (pictured above), recent court decisions in Massachusetts and California recognizing same-sex marriage mean “the end of democracy in America.” As such, he advocates taking down our government “by whatever means is made possible or necessary." 

It’s all there in a truly frightful — and brazenly dishonest — essay that Card published in last Thursday’s edition of the Mormon Times.
I can’t think the last time I’ve read something so offensive and bigoted written by a major media figure. Overthrowing the government because of same-sex marriage? As far as I know, even Pat Robertson doesn’t advocate this. We’re talking Fred Phelps territory here. 

And Card is definitely a major figure in the science fiction community, a three-time winner of both the Hugo and Nebula Awards, and a winner of both the World Fantasy and Locus Awards. His novel, Ender’s Game, is considered a classic, one of the best-selling science fiction novels of all time. A major movie version is in the works with a screenplay written by Card himself. Wolfgang Petersen and Warner Brothers had both been involved, though it’s unclear if either still are. 

Additionally, at this month's Comic Con in San Diego, Marvel Comics announced that this October they are publishing a six issue miniseries based on Ender's Game. 

Some of Card’s arguments against same-sex marriage are straight from the far-right conservative playbook: for example, that marriage is, and must always be, synonymous with procreation. Infertile heterosexual couples are okay because they affirm “the universality of the pattern of marriage” — at least if they adopt. Card seems to grant no credence or respect to heterosexual couples who are childless by choice. 

And Card clearly seems to detest gay people. 

“When gay rights were being enforced by the courts back in the '70s and '80s, we were repeatedly told by all the proponents of gay rights that they would never attempt to legalize gay marriage,” Card writes. “It took about 15 minutes for that promise to be broken.” 

I have absolutely no idea what Card means by this spiteful comment. As long as I’ve been alive and working in gay activism, we gay people have been quite clear about our long-term agenda: liberty and justice for all. It's really not that difficult a concept. 

Card spends a lot of time arguing that the availability of same-sex marriage and the open acknowledgement of gay people is destroying the “family,” but our families definitely don’t count. At no point does Card acknowledge, even tacitly, the legal and psychological burden we gay people bear when our relationships are literally made to be illegal. He certainly doesn’t see us as equal citizens and doesn’t even seem to think of us as human.

[MORE] 

Bravo On The Sizzler Blog Tour

(from M.Christian's Queen Imaginings)


The great Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions just posted a rave - a complete well-deserved one - about the book tour they so thoughtfully arranged for my new book, Stroke the Fire:

First Two Sizzler Blog Tours Big Success

Coordinated by Nikki of BTS Virtual Tours, our first author blog tours were smashing successes. Increase in sales and visibility for both authors. Very different though their work is, M. Christian and Betty Carlton both found themselves and their books on nine very different but appropriate blogs. Copies of each author's featured book were given away as prizes - with s grand prize winner receiving copies of all that author's books! The next tour will feature Olivia London's erotic romance novels and collections. 

Thanks Nikki and the great people at BTS!

Book Devotee And Stroke The Fire

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)

The blast that is the Stroke the Fire blog tour continues with a great little write-up and except on the every cool Book Devotee site:

Excerpt: 

“STROKE THE FIRE”

“Man’s got a home, then that’s where he sleeps. Can’t, myself, see how you can stand the god-derned quiet out there in the flats,” Lew had said, listening to the music of the man’s voice.

The man shrugged, the tip of his cigar bobbing in the soft night. ”That it be. Name’s Last. Jeff Last.”

Lew wiped the grime off his hands (and hopefully the fool’s grin off his face) and offered his own. ”Lew. Just Lew around here.”

The handshake lasted a bit too long, long enough for the two men to size each other up. Lew in his Stinkhole clothes was a burly barrel of a man, all beard and round blue eyes. He looked fat from aways, but if you’re ever seen him haul cornmeal or lumber you’d know that it was iron, fella, strong, strong, iron and not just insulation against Craggy’s winds.

Last was long and lanky, and while the light was none too good in that narrow little ways between the public corral and Miller’s Fine Feeds, you could tell that he was a beanpole: Six feet easy, in buckskin and serape. In the dark beneath his wide brimmed hat, his shaved face was carved and as Craggy as Lew’s mountain home. The handshake had lasted way too long. Now, he thought, how to get this fine feller up the mountain…

“Gotta hit the trail if I’m ta make Ridgewood by dawn,” Jeff had said, and Lew’s heart had sunk down to his Stinkhole boots.

“Knows how it is–” he had said, starting to turn, maybe extend a hand, and an invitation for another time.

“But you is one fine figure of a man. Might temptin’–”

Lew stared, unsure of how exactly to respond.

“You think the same, Lew of the Mountain?” Jeff had said.

Even in the low light cast from the lanterns of Sal’s Lew could see Jeff’s fine figure, out in all it’s glory there in the “street” of Stinkhole.