Aleks Voinov and Rachel Haimowitz talk Riptide Publishing

Hi Rachel and Aleksandr, thanks a lot for taking time out of your busy schedule to answer a few questions that we have about your new venture, Riptide Publishing.

AV: Hi Carole, thank you for having us over, it’s great to be here.

In a previous post, we've heard about how you both came to establish a publishing house--Riptide Publishing--together. Please give us a short introduction to Riptide Publishing and the books it offer.

AV: In short, Riptide Publishing offers gay and trans* fiction – so we publish a huge range of stories, from traditional m/m romances to literary fiction, because we believe that readers are ready and willing to read outside the box if the stories are good. So we’re offering good stories in that spectrum. Riptide is small, invitation-only, but we do have op

How has the experience (of managing a publishing house) been so far, since you opened your doors on October 2011?en submission calls and our authors range from old hands to hot, young talent.

AV: It’s been a ride. Things I thought would be easy turned out to be really hard, and things that I thought would be hard were no challenge at all. Basically, whatever we expected, this wasn’t it, it has surprised me personally at every turn.

In terms of the business, we were surprised by our own success, very much, but it’s a huge team effort with everybody working stupid hours especially in the set-up stage. That said, our models and ideas and concepts have held up pretty well, all told.

For me, personally, it’s a huge rush to build a business and see how everything works and I do like to think on my feet and reach out to people and juggle a million balls – something I know from my time in journalism, but it’s so much more satisfying if you’re working for yourself and so closely with the other partners and authors.

RH: Absolutely amazing. In a lot of ways it feels like always juggling five balls at once, even in your sleep, and desperately hoping not to drop them. But there’s tremendous satisfaction in managing that, and your partners can pick up the slack when your arms get tired. We’ve all been surprised and humbled and awed and just so grateful for the response Riptide has received from readers, bloggers, and authors. Makes it all so, so worthwhile.

How is it like working together managing a publishing house? I'm sure it must be very different from co-authoring a book!

AV: Actually, it’s like co-authoring fifty books that are all due next week. Communication is absolutely key. Thankfully, all partners are very good at that. Overall, we all have the same vision, and everybody brings their own individual strengths to bear. Rachel is a natural businesswoman, I wouldn’t want to have anybody else doing her job. Chris and I are both people people – she’s amazing in her network on the marketing side and I’m doing a decent job, I hope, on the author and editor side. Still, writing a book looks really easy now, like something you do in your lunch break.

RH: Yes and no. On the one hand, it’s a lot like co-authoring in that, as Aleks said, communication is key. We all basically live on our gmail accounts, probably exchange upwards of a few dozen emails each day that basically function like

office memos, since none of us share a physical location. As in co-writing, it’s all about talking things out, reaching shared understandings, and making compromises. Unlike co-writing, there’s often a lot less creative freedom and a lot more drudge work: you don’t get to flex your writing wings doing a proofing pass or spending eight hours uploading files to sell at third-party sites. But even those things move very smoothly between us. Certainly there have been some bumps in the road, some times when we didn’t all agree, but in the end, the shared vision and shared passion trump all, and have carried us through every obstacle and difficulty.

What does Riptide Publishing offer that other publishers don't?

AV: Other publishers offer great covers, very good royalties, developmental editing, close contact to the editor and a personalized marketing plan, too. But there are very few that offer all of those. Also, we are very open-minded about what we publish – we take shorter works than many, and we are also interested in trans* fiction and literary fiction, which in some houses might sit a bit oddly right next to the other offerings.

RH: While we certainly offer our share of more “traditional” M/M romances—Cat Grant’s contemporary Once a Marine, for example, or Brita Addams’s Romeo Club erotica shorts—we also see ourselves as a destination for the different. Like Aleks said, we have a particular interest in trans* fiction, which is notoriously difficult to place with a publisher. We take some very short stories—vignettes that do one particular thing exceptionally well, like Andrea Speed’s Josh of the Damned series, most of which are under 5,000 words. We take some very untraditional heroes, like Aleks Voinov’s unrepentant mafia killers in the Dark Soul series. We delve into the deeply literary and creepy, like with Peter Hansen’s First Watch (a.k.a. “Tentacles!”). It’s scary to move outside the traditional mold, to do something very different from what’s already out there, because you don’t really know if there will be an audience for it. But among the founders, those are the kinds of stories we love the most as readers—and also very often the stories we write as authors—and we wanted to create a home for things like that, a house willing and able to take all kinds of risks. Having the right editorial staff, the proper funding, and the right marketing strategies make that possible. So too does having strong traditional pieces that we know will pay the bills, even if our risks don’t. And that’s such an amazing position to be in—to have the luxury of exploring, of bringing tremendous new voices and styles and stories to folks without having to fret quite so much about the bottom line.

What can authors expect when they publish with Riptide Publishing? How about the readers?

AV: Being small, we respond very fast – the whole process is very transparent, and authors work closely with their editors. Stories that are submitted and accepted (and we turn down a lot, or send R&R letters) will get edited a lot. This includes things that many publishers out there don’t touch – we’re looking at characters, plot, pacing, tension, satisfying emotional arcs, and making sure that the book has no fatal craft issues left. This means, often, that the manuscript goes through five or seven editing passes. It’s a lot of work for authors and editors both, but the results are worth it.

Readers can expect tasteful covers that won’t embarrass them when they read them on public transport or if somebody finds their e-reader, well-edited text, and a wide range of quality stories. I’d say there’s something for everybody in our catalogue.

What’s your submission process? How long do the authors have to wait before they hear from you on their submissions?

AV: Since we invite our authors, the process is very short. At the moment, we’ve accepted stories in anything from half an hour (yes, that good, but of course short!) to about two weeks. As all partners have to okay an acquisition, it can take longer in some cases, but we’re usually fast.

RH: We did just start some open calls when we opened at the end of October, and I’m looking forward to seeing what comes over the transom, so to speak. We’ve given ourselves six weeks or thereabouts to respond to those submissions, and we’re likely to need every last second of that time. We also have some folks with long publication histories reaching out to us, and we try to get back to them within a few weeks. But as Aleks says, for those authors we invite, we’re quite eager to work with them, and we don’t like to keep them waiting.

What genres and heat levels are you looking for in the submissions?

AV: All sub-genres of gay/trans fiction, all heat levels – that includes no sex at all. We do do pure erotica, but once it has a certain length, we want more than strung-together sex scenes.

RH: To me, a good story’s a good story regardless of genre or heat level, but we all certainly do have our hobby horses. Aleks is particularly interested in military and historical fiction. I’m particularly interested in fantasy, soft SF (but not hard SF; I have no taste for the dense high-tech stuff), cyberpunk, magical realism, westerns (please, someone, get me some gay Deadwood!), and 100% realistic BDSM. Our editorial intern, Callie, has a particular soft spot for steampunk—and yes, she can absolutely pitch a manuscript at an acquisition meeting. We’re all hoping for more trans* submissions. I suspect we’re developing a reputation for the dark and the strange, which is fine—I don’t mind being known as the place you go to look for something off the beaten path—but we do want people to know there’s plenty of room for lightness and humor and exceptionally well-done traditional pieces at Riptide as well. Humor especially, actually; we have a surprisingly large percentage of humorous stories in our initial offerings.

Which debut authors from Riptide Publishing should look out for in the future? Please tell us a little about their works.

AV: Well, I have two favourites: Peter Hansen’s “First Watch” is creepy, literary and sexy, and he’s definitely somebody to watch, not only for the marvelous worlds he creates, but just for everything. Characters, intelligence, and sheer brilliance of style and execution.

Rhi Etzweiler is pretty new and should be mentioned, too. While we did co-write one book for Carina, Blacker than Black is Rhi’s first solo book, and it’s going to make waves; it’s lyrical, sincere, engrossing and atmospheric, with very strong characters.

Both writers are stylistically so good that they could give anybody else in the genre a very good run for their money, so both are extremely hot in my view.

How do you foresee the world of epublishing?

AV: It’s going to grow. The big publishers might catch up eventually, but indies have up to ten years of experience in the space and are navigating these waters extremely well, so I would imagine that the cutting edge remains with the indie publishers for the foreseeable future. People will attempt to cash in (like Penguin’s freshly-launched e-publishing service shows), and all the rules that we thought were sacred and hewn in rock will be changed. It’s extremely dynamic, really interesting, a game-changer.

With the advent of technology, it becomes increasingly easier for authors to self-publish. Why should an author submit her manuscript to you (or to other epublishers) instead of self-publishing her work?

AV: Self-publishing is absolutely a valid option. I’ve looked at it, Rachel has done it, and many people are using that channel extremely well (like Josh Lanyon, who is publishing his backlist via Amazon direct).

Basically, however, every author needs editing (both for content and spelling/grammar). You need a good cover, ideally a marketing plan, and the book needs to look professional or it might be rejected by the reading public. This costs money and is also pretty time-consuming. A good editor charges more than many are willing to pay, a good proofer too, and uploading the files everywhere and maintaining a publisher account at all the big e-tailer sites is just a load of hassle. A publisher takes care of all that, which makes it definitely the easier option. But of course there are many self-published authors who do an excellent job on all counts.

What advice do you have for authors wanting to publish with Riptide Publishing?

AV: Be ready to be edited. Some authors have never had any content editing and are surprised, even shocked, when their clean manuscript comes back with hundreds of comments. I started in traditional print publishing, so having a comment like “these three chapters are weak, because… Please rewrite!” was normal business for me, I never thought it could (or should!) be different. In our space, few people look that deeply into a text, so we’ve had authors receive their very first set of developmental edits from us and were surprised. Some loved it, others didn’t love it quite as much. But it’s inevitable – we do have an old-style editing process.

RH: What Aleks said, times a billion. Editing is not a fuzzy lovey process. It is by its nature inherently critical, sometimes stunningly so. Just remember we loved your book enough to buy it in the first place J For those who are hoping to get in via an open submission call, bring your best game. Polish to a high sheen. Stories with craft issues are auto-rejects. Stories with developmental issues may be worth taking on anyway if the writing is pristine and the voice is strong.

What amazing thing or lesson have you discovered/experienced in the course of establishing and/or managing Riptide Publishing?

AV: I just love the people involved in this. From our authors to our blogger contacts, to readers leaving comments and encouraging us, and last but not least the other partners – it’s all about the love of books and stories, so working together like this toward an ambitious, idealistic goal is just really good fun.

RH: Miscommunication is terrifyingly easy and can be an incredibly powerful destructive force. I’m learning to slow down a little and be a lot more precise when conveying ideas. You might think an author would be inherently good at this—after all, we make our living conveying ideas—but it’s an entirely different animal in the real world and something that, as a bit of a loner, I wasn’t accustomed to at all. The second big lesson for me has been about time. Apparently, it’s quite fluid, and likes to squish and compress on you in direct correlation to the number of critical deadlines on your plate.

But beyond any of that, the amazing discovery, day after day, is our authors’ heart and talent, determination and hard work. It’s wild to joke on Twitter with Andrea Speed about a rampaging mustache and have her find enough inspiration there to turn that into her next Josh of the Damned monster (look for The Night of the Mustache this February). And on a similar note, it’s equally amazing to see the readers respond with such joy and enthusiasm to that talent and heart.

Any last thing you’d like to say?

We invite your readers to visit our Riptide website, read the blurbs and excerpts and hopefully they will find titles that pique their interest. Thanks so much for hosting us!

Thanks a lot, Rachel and Aleksandr!

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Aleksandr Voinov talks about his Dark Soul

First of all where are you from?

Originally Germany, living in the UK.

What do you like to read?

Good stories. I’m pretty choosy and demanding, but open-minded about genres. Right now, I’m mostly reading books my friends write, submissions for Riptide, and non-fiction.

What do you love about being an author?

Being anybody and anything I want. Also, I keep meeting amazing people.

Where do you get your inspiration?

Nono, the question is: Where does your inspiration get you? It happens. Inspiration is like a switch flicked in your brain. That easy, and that complicated.

Do you tend to base your characters on real people or are they totally from your imagination?

Of course I’m taking bits and pieces from real people I’ve met. But they are all Frankenstein’s monster. I take pieces and put them together into a new shape, then inspiration strikes and they shamble off to wreak havoc.

Do you have a favorite character out of all the ones you’ve written?

I’d like to meet Silvio, my current character, just to experience what it means to be in the same room with him.

Why is he your favorite?

The favorite is always the one I’m currently writing. I admire William’s passion and I’m really, really intrigued by Silvio’s sensuality.

Here's a blurb and an excerpt from Dark Soul Volume 1. You can get a sense of Silvio for yourselves:

Stefano Marino is a made man, a happily married west coast mafia boss who travels east to await the death of a family patriarch. All the old hands have gathered—of course sharks will circle when there’s blood in the water—but it’s a new hand that draws Stefano’s eye.

Silvio “the Barracuda” Spadaro is protetto and heir to retired consigliere Gianbattista Falchi, and a made man in his own right. Among his underworld family, being gay is a capital crime, but the hypersexual—and pansexual—young killer has never much cared for rules. The only orders he follows are Battista’s, whether on the killing field or on his knees, eagerly submissive at Battista’s feet.

But Silvio has needs Battista can’t fill, and he’s cast his black-eyed gaze on Stefano. A fake break-in, an even faker attack, and Silvio is exactly where he wants to be: strung up at Stefano’s mercy, driving the older Mafioso toward urges he’s spent his whole life repressing. Stefano resists, but when the Russian mob invades his territory and forces him to seek aid, Gianbattista’s price brings Stefano face to face once more with Silvio—and his darkest desires.

This title is #1 of the Dark Soul series.

Excerpt:

The most annoying thing about all this was nobody knew when the old badger was going to kick the bucket. But to make the wait comfortable, at least, Stefano had secured a nice leather chair near the fireplace, Vince covering his flank.

He didn’t expect hostility. If he had, he wouldn’t have shown up; he wasn’t that brave. But he still liked having Vince at his side. This way he had at least one ally in the room. The others were fleeting alliances or all-out rivals for the business soon to be up for grabs.

Luigi Ferretti, the old badger’s right-hand man, stepped into the room and walked toward Rossi, an east coast boss. They exchanged a few whispered words, then Rossi put his wine glass down, straightened his suit like a boy being called to the principal’s office, and followed the consigliere.

Stefano was too low on the food chain to receive the call so soon. First the dying man’s old comrades, then the young Turks. No doubt the big pieces of the old man’s empire would be taken by the time his turn came. But even if there were only scraps left, he couldn’t afford not to be here. He had to circle with the other sharks.

His cell phone buzzed. Just short; a text message. He fished it from his pocket and cast a glance at the screen.

Having a great time, but the hotel bed is so empty without you.

He smiled at the thought of Donata in that Parisian five-star hotel, wearing a silken negligee—maybe the one as red as spilled blood—her small breasts and hard nipples pushing against the barely-there fabric. He was damn lucky to have married her rather than taken her as a mistress, even if he did tend to send her away on shopping trips to London, Paris, or New York when he had to get this involved with the family business. Even if, as she put it, she only bought the clothes so she could take them off for him.

His neck was cramping up, so he stood, stretched out, and then headed for the open balcony doors and the salty breeze. In a corner, two men were talking in murmurs, denying him solitude, so he headed down the broad stairs toward the front of the mansion.

The white gravel driveway was lit all the way from the road. Above the rhythmic swell of the ocean sounding from beyond the house, Stefano heard the revving of a powerful, aggressive engine.

A motorcycle, all sharp edges, painted black with white highlights. It zipped along the winding driveway as if it had a race to win, swerving dangerously and then stopping with a dramatic turn, spraying gravel everywhere.

Including across Stefano’s polished leather shoes.

The driver was hunched over the handlebars, wearing a matching full-body leather suit with Kevlar plates.

Like some modernist centaur on wheels.

The driver stepped off, displaying long, long graceful legs and a tiny ass clad in leather. Woman? Lean and angular, but feminine, even when kicking the stand underneath the bike. The helmet came off after a somewhat awkward release. Short, spiky hair beneath. Not a woman—and that jolted through Stefano just as hard as the driver’s cold, motionless, focused expression. In that pale face lurked the blackest, darkest eyes Stefano had ever seen, and lips like they’d been cut with knife blades, perfect, sharp, and deadly.

The driver cast him an annoyed glance—At his proximity? His staring?—but then paused and regarded him longer. No smile, no recognition. Eventually, he turned to hang the helmet from the handlebar.

Stefano backed away, but watched the man unstrap saddlebags just large enough for a proper suit and toiletries.

The driver glanced at him again. “Old guy’s not dead yet?” he asked.

“Not that I know of.”

“Bene.” The driver shrugged. “I’ll go have a shower now. Wanna come?”

What. The. Fuck. He forced himself not to recoil. Think, Stefano. Think. If he’s family. Son?

Cousin? Grandson? He couldn’t afford to make enemies here, even if those words—that invitation—could get men killed.

Wanna come? The way he’d said it could have meant anything.

Stefano decided on a sneer. “That would hardly be appropriate.”

The driver shrugged and sauntered past him toward the house. The guards near the door stopped him, but when he produced a piece of paper from inside his leather suit, they let him pass. They even looked a little impressed. Or was it bewildered?

Stefano followed back into the house—not following the driver, though, of course not—and watched him climb the big central staircase inside.

The leather played off his body in interesting ways. He tried to ignore the other details—taut piece of ass, broad shoulders, the V-shape of the back at odds with the first impression of femininity when he’d straightened up from the bike.

Not that women had any reason to be here. At least not attractive single women. Stefano shook his head and turned away.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” one man said, casting a baleful eye up the steps.

“He’s Battista’s boy,” another man said, in the far more hushed tones of respect.

“Gianbattista’s getting senile to rely on him,” the other man sneered. “Fucking wild card.”

“Well, seems Battista’s not coming personally.”

Stefano inched closer, ostensibly to settle at one of the small round tables scattered around the house, and pretended to be interested in the glass of salt sticks nobody else had touched.

“What’s he up to these days, anyway?”

“Breeding roses, they say.” The boss ignored his companion’s incredulous snort. “For all intents and purposes, Battista’s retired. I’d say the boy’s making sure nobody comes calling in favors.”

“Security?”

“Oh yeah. He killed Diego Carbone. In self-defense.”

The other man grimaced. “I’d heard Carbone was dead, but not who did him.”

“I have it on good information. He did Diego. Pumped him full of lead and then strangled him. It was a massacre. Diego shot him, too. Put the boy in the hospital for a few months—blood poisoning or some shit like that. People say he’s just as insane as Carbone now.”

“Cazzo.” The man glanced up the stairs, but the driver was gone. “I believe it.” He looked around as if trying to escape the conversation, then stood and followed a servant with a silver tray of canapés.

Stefano made eye contact with the boss who’d been left behind. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help overhearing that conversation. Stefano Marino.” Stefano offered his hand.

Gathering information beat sitting near the fireplace being bored. The thought that the driver had killed Diego—an enforcer so violent as to be virtually insane—made him uneasy. He didn’t hear much news from the east coast, wrapped up as he was in the microcosm of his own territory and his immediate interests. But some interesting names in all that. Il Gentiluomo, Gianbattista Falchi, cultured on the outside with his mild manners and graying temples, an old-style consigliere like straight out of The Godfather. Stefano had met him only once, warned and aware that Falchi was a trickster and schemer, yet still not immune to his charisma.

How curious that the old consigliere trusted his security to this young killer who didn’t seem to give a fuck about tradition. Maybe as a retiree with still-considerable influence, Gianbattista Falchi could afford to ignore tradition, too.

“You’re still here,” a voice said at his back.

Stefano turned around to find himself standing way, way too close to the driver. Those black eyes were without light, without reflection. The stare punched the air from his lungs, and those lips . . . God, those lips. Distantly, he heard his conversation partner making his excuses, but he paid the man no mind, and neither did the driver. He could feel the heat from the driver’s body. Imagined touching. Being touched. He blinked and stepped away.

Only then did he realize the driver had changed and showered, as promised. His short hair was still wet, and he was wearing a severe black suit over a white shirt. No tie. The suit was cut to hide the gun under his right shoulder, but also showed off a whole lot of lean muscle. Not an ounce of fat on him.

Stefano swallowed. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“They call me Barracuda.” No smile, just stating a fact. The name was oddly fitting for that expressionless face. “Silvio Spadaro.”

Spadaro was offering his hand. Stefano took it, the grip firm and dry, the skin rough. Of course, he was a killer, a sicario, so he’d have to touch guns enough to harden against them. Stefano swallowed. He shouldn’t be thinking about what this hand touched and how. “Stefano Marino.”

“I know.” Spadaro lifted an eyebrow, and didn’t release Stefano’s hand. “How long have you been waiting for the old man to die?”

“Leukemia takes a while. We’ve had some false alarms in the past.”

“This time it’s real. That’s why I’m here.” Spadaro kept holding his hand, and Stefano realized he was beginning to sweat. It wasn’t fear. The man was just so intense. Not freakish, not insane. Just mental games, psychological warfare. A killer’s job.

“So, how—” he forced his hand from the man’s grip “—is Gianbattista Falchi these days?”

“Sta bene.” Spadaro cast a quick glance around the room. When the eye contact broke, Stefano could breathe again. But then the eyes came back, staring him point-blank in the face. “He sent me to pay his respects.”

“Why’s he not coming personally?”

“Want the truth or a polite lie?”

Stefano huffed. “Surely he’d say goodbye to his old friend?”

“He fucking hates the rest of the family,” Spadaro said flatly. “And he hates the smell of hospitals. The lies, the polite smiles. He said he wouldn’t trust himself not to make a scene.”

Seemed Gianbattista had embraced his retirement. Or saw a danger to himself here. Stefano filed the thought away. “So he figures you of all people won’t?”

Spadaro’s lips quirked. “Maybe I’m here to make sure the old guy meets Death properly this time. Do you know what’s going on in people’s heads here?”

“I have an educated guess.” Stefano reached for the glass of salt sticks, more unnerved than he wanted to admit by the killer’s comments. He didn’t expect violence, but you never really knew with the family, did you?

“Yeah, well, fuck ’em.” Spadaro cast another glance at the assembled Mafiosi. “I wouldn’t change places with any of them.”

Was that a slip of the mask? Calculated provocation? “Oh? Why not?”

“You know what they did to Joey D’Amato?”

Stefano straightened. Why would Spadaro mention the faggot? Way too crass and unsettling, especially considering he’d been vanished, not even a body to bury.

Spadaro studied him, head tilted. “That’s why I don’t belong to anybody,” he said quietly, but with the force and conviction of a kidney punch. “I’m not following their fucking rules.” He swept the crowd again with his expressionless black eyes, then fixed them on Stefano’s face.

Stefano’s lips tingled. It was still hard to breathe and he had no idea why. He couldn’t let this man intimidate him. Couldn’t be seen as too interested. Barracuda or not—even Gianbattista Falchi’s protetto or not—he could afford zero suspicion. He’d be dead. Fuck Spadaro for flustering him so, and fuck himself for getting flustered, but he’d never show it. “Well, give Falchi my best wishes when you return to him.”

“Will do.” Spadaro sketched an ironic salute and stepped away.

Stefano fought the urge to straighten his tie, fought harder against the urge to watch the Barracuda cut through the assembled groups of men.

He caught Vince’s gaze, and though his bodyguard relaxed a little, he still looked worried. Stefano could see why. A sicario who belonged to a “retired” consigliere, and not just any pensioner, but crafty old Gianbattista Falchi, who’d been more powerful in his own right than many bosses. That was all manner of disturbing. “Paying his respects” by being anything but respectful. Mentioning D’Amato like killing the faggot was somehow wrong. Mentioning him in fucking public.

He stood around, restless, then noticed Luigi approach Spadaro and touch his shoulder. The black eyes flared and Spadaro glowered at Luigi as if he were about to take the older man’s head clean off. But he reached into his suit jacket, pulled his gun from his holster with two fingers, and handed it to Luigi. The consigliere took it without batting an eyelash, then went upstairs. Spadaro followed.

Vince stepped to his side. “That’s really fucking impressive. Arrives here and gets seen almost immediately.”

“Well, he was sent by Gianbattista Falchi.”

Vince nodded solemnly. “I don’t like his attitude.”

“I fucking hate it.” The way the man’s presence made his skin tingle wasn’t hatred, but that wasn’t something he could admit. Spadaro seemed to have that effect on people. The fact that he clearly carried weight and power was even worse.

So what was this guy’s game?

You can purchase Dark Soul Volume 1 by clicking the title.

Dark Soul Volume 2 is also available for instant download. Here's the blurb:

In "Dark Whisper," Gianbattista may have broken Silvio's heart and sent him off to the States, but he's still just a phone call away. When Silvio returns from a sex shop with a bag full of goodies, Gianbattista can't resist topping his boy one more time, even if they are 4,000 miles apart.

In "Dark Night," the Russian problem comes back to haunt Stefano, and when a dark encounter leaves him bloody and broken, Silvio knows just the right way to ease his pain.

This third volume in the episodic Dark Soul novel features the stories "Dark Lady #1," "Dark Lady #2," and "Dark Brother." To purchase it on presale, click here.

It will be released on December 19^th.

Where are your favorite online hangouts? What are your daily must-stop blogs and websites?

Livejournal, Goodreads, Twitter.

Speaking of online hangouts, where are yours? Where can your readers find you?

Website

Blog

Twitter: @vashtan

Goodreads