Welcome to the official website of author Jayson James!

Finding Our Way Series Collection

Read the books that have made up this popular series!

Pieces of Us

Jesse is an average teenage boy making his way through living in 1988 with the help of his best friend, a girl named Dylan.

Read My Story…

As I share my experiences in "Tormented Discovery" with my best friend Ryan who continues the story in "Drifting."

T.E.D.

TIM is being bullied. ERIC is frustrated with life. DELSIN is gay and ready to come out.

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Guest Blogger = Alina Popescu


7 Crazy Things Authors Do or Say

Writers are a crazy bunch, and I say that with all the love in the world. I am one, I have friends who are writers, I stalk enough authors, in a word, I am dedicated to the trade… Yet we are as crazy as they come and some of the things we say or do are just way too out there! So this is a humorous take on the many little things that we say or do that drive our fans and friends and families and pretty much everyone positively insane.  *Insane in the brain being shouted in the background for a little musical stimulation*

#AmWriting

Yes, we need to share with the world every time we’re at our keyboards, typing away our stories. Why? Cause we’re sadistic little bastards who like to keep their readers on edge. They have to know about each and every phrase and sentence we add to the story they have been waiting for. We’re like the ultimate teases, keeping people right on the edge, tormenting them for days and weeks and months on end, but failing to provide the much needed release. And we wonder why readers growl at us when we post yet another teaser…

“I’m not writing”

Writer’s blocks are just as big of a topic as the times when we are coming up with new stories. We complain and when all else fails? We write tips about dealing with writer’s block.  We’ve obviously become very good at dealing with it.

Post our visual inspiration

Want photos of men and women to drool over? Follow a few writers. The amount of toe curling images they provide is unmatched. You’ll sob and swoon and fall in love every five minutes, I tell you.

Dance like a crazy person when we get good reviews

Nothing like a good review, pouring love and appreciation and everything cute and cuddly in the universe! The sun shines brighter, birds singing are no longer waking us up at ungodly hours, they just delight our ears, everything tastes better… You get the general idea!

At the opposite end are the bad reviews. “Any publicity is good publicity! Any publicity is good publicity! It’s good, all good, I’m breathing.  Nooooooooooooo! That review sucks, it’s mean, and unfair, and the reviewer does not get me… Oh, mother of pain so profound!” Again, you get the picture.

Drink too much coffee/tea or make huge amounts of chocolate disappear

It’s like our coffee or our tea or our sweets are what powers our ability to write. Can’t write? Get more coffee! Those edits killing you? Chocolate helps. We have evolved into these peculiar organisms that turn their favorite foods or drinks into story lines and characters and conflicts and cliffhangers.

Get their revenge by creating characters in your image and killing them off

Yup, that, or worse, making the character in your image the most hateful one in the whole damn novel! So not only do I hate you, but I get the whole world to hate you with me! Brilliant, isn’t it? While you read the story, you know it’s you, and you can’t help but cringe at the world of pain you’re being put through.

Worst off, you inspire a main character and writers show their love for you by putting you through even more pain! Does not matter, it’s all washed away in the end with a happy ending and the knowledge that you made it out alive. Unless we’re talking George R.R. Martin or someone of similar convictions and then… everybody dies!

Explain everything with research!

You never, ever want to go through the browsing history of an author. Ever! Everything from murder and mayhem and weird diseases to giant beasts, enough legal procedures to make your head spin, to very detailed encounters of the sexual nature, a whole lot of Tumblr and Pinterest, and impressive amounts of time spent on Facebook… all that huge mess and procrastination, all of it is actually research :D

Last but not least, writers do something that I’ve been doing for the past… oh, almost 700 words! Admit to their crazy, embrace it, love it, and go forth to victory with it!

 


About the author

Writer, traveler, and coffee addict, Alina Popescu has been in love with books all her life. She started writing when she was ten and even won awards in local competitions. She has always been drawn to sci-fi, fantasy, and the supernatural realm, and has recently released The Edge of Hope, the first novel in the Bad Blood Trilogy.

Social Links







 

 

1) Living in Bucharest, Romania, how much do you know about Romanian Tale of Der Grossman?

 

To be honest, I have no real clue about the Slenderman. Before seeing your interview questions, I didn’t even know it was supposedly a Romanian folk tale. I did not grow up with it, and I think it’s nothing but an urban legend born outside of Romania. Why I believe this? Well, Sorina is a pretty modern girl’s name. Some of our folks tales and fairy tales are a little twisted, granted, but this one has nothing familiar about it and I honestly couldn’t find any information on it from Romanian sources.

 

2) What makes you excited to get out of bed every day?

A very excited dog? Does that count? Unfortunately, I don’t have time to wake up fully or think about what’s exciting to me before he drags me outside to play with his friends. Leaving all jokes aside, I am usually excited about everything, because I happen to be a morning person and every beginning is wonderful to me. Yes, I am one of those weird people that love Mondays.

 

3) Do you have any rituals you do when you are writing, like listening to music?

Coffee and music are almost always part of my writing process. I can do without either or both, but I prefer to have them close by. I don’t need to be in a certain room, or type on one laptop, or write at a certain time of day. Music and coffee I am strict about though, but I don’t necessarily need to listen to my own music.

 

4) Speaking of music do you have a favorite song or band?

No, I don’t. I have favorite songs and bands and solo artists, but I can’t come up with a short enough list.

 

5) What writing projects do you have for the near future?

I am currently working on book two of Bad Blood and an MM romance project that seems to be getting most of my attention these days. It’s a fantasy/historical type of setting, without any real magic or mythical creatures. It does have the gorgeous, antihero warriors, the scheming and plotting rulers, and a pretty difficult road to a happy ending for the main characters.

 

6) When you are writing a book how much research do on the subject?

It depends on the subject. In some cases I spend a lot of time on research, in others, not so much. With my vampire trilogy, for example, the research was limited because vampires have always fascinated me and I knew a lot on myths, literature, ideas, real life cases… Also, most of the places I described in the book are destinations I’ve traveled to before.

 

7) Have you had any fans that have scared you by the way the act or things they have done?

I’ve just lunched my debut novel, so I am relatively new at this. Nothing scary so far, but I have been brought to tears quite a few times by artwork they did, the support they’ve shown or the reviews they’ve written.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Guest Blogger = JC Wallace


Hi, everyone! I want to thank Jayson for hosting me!

 

I want to talk about M/M and vampires!! Very Hot!

 

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So, I wrote a vampire story when the market is flooded. Why? Why not, lol. What I tried to do was something different in this story. One way I did this was to add supernatural/magical elements to an already varied depiction of vampires and their world.

 

Carson Locke is a rare Tabula Rosa vampire. Tabula Rosa is Latin and loosely translates into blank slate. When he bites another vampire, their mind is wiped clean, erased, creating a reprogrammable, blank slate, which can take on any personality, including mindless killing machines. That is why Carson has been sheltered his entire life and hidden away. In the past, Carson was forced to bite someone he cared for deeply and is haunted by the terror of that memory.

 

Commander Lincoln Samuels is a Sanatore vampire. In Latin (I love Latin if you hadn’t noticed), Sanatore means healer. Lincoln’s blood has the ability to heal other vampires. However, there is a possible side effect - Lincoln could bond physically and mentally with that vampire. In the past, Lincoln bonded with another vampire with near disastrous results. Now, he must decide if he will save Carson and risk that happening again.

 

And, then, there is the Salutem vampire...but to get into that would be a spoiler so you will have read the story to find out about that vampire.

 

Add in a shaman with supernatural powers and the ability to predict the future, and a destiny put into place hundreds of years before Carson was born, and, I hope, this vampire tale will satisfy the most die-hard fans of the genre.

 

 

 

 

Buy Link:

 



 

 

Blurb:

Carson Locke is a Tabula Rosa vampire—a dangerous rarity in the world of vampires. With one bite, he can wipe clean a vampire’s mind, creating a mindless drone. Because of this, Carson has spent his entire twenty-three years sheltered at home. That changes when his entire family is murdered. Now on the run and near death, Carson meets Commander Lincoln Samuels, a beautiful vampire who tries to heal him. In doing so, Carson is bonded to the vampire and turned into something the vampire world has never seen. When Carson is poisoned, he believes that someone wants him dead as well, however there are greater plans for Carson put into motion hundreds of years before his birth.

 

Lincoln is a Sanatore vampire with the ability to heal other vampires. He heads a team in the New Vampire Justice police force in Utica, NY. Late one night, he is called to a local Vampire Blood Market where a starving Tabula Rosa vampire is about to be executed by one of his officers. Feeling a strong connection to Carson, Lincoln wants to heal the broken man despite knowing the risk in doing so. Healing Carson could destroy Lincoln and cost him the chance to love again. What Lincoln finds is that there is a greater evil threatening to take Carson from him.

 

Can two vampires who have loved and painfully lost in the past, learn to trust one another, defeat the evil rising against them, and dare to love forever?

 

 

Excerpt:

Carson Locke was starving. Thoughts of veins and warm blood flowing through arteries clouded his thinking. His stomach had hollowed. His bones protruded and his muscles shook from weakness. His self-control, held by a fragile thread, stretched to the breaking point. When it snapped, he’d turn into the monster he’d avoided becoming for over twenty-three years.

He needed food. He needed blood. Now.

Despite crouching behind a Dumpster in the dark, the cold wind reached Carson, biting at his thin skin. Ten days. Ten days since he’d last eaten. Ten days too long for a young vampire. Ten days since he’d fled his home. Ten days since his mother and brother and uncle had been slaughtered and he’d run for his life. They were all dead because of what he was. Choking back a sob, he forced himself to focus on the back door of the building he’d been watching.

This was his last chance. If he couldn’t get the blood he needed here, that last thread of self-control would snap and he’d attack someone. The memory of the last time he’d been forced to bite—the screaming, the wide, vacant staring eyes, the nothingness—still haunted him. Carson squeezed his eyes tight and drew in several deep, steadying breaths. This task was too important to mar with past horrors he couldn’t rectify.

Two women bundled against the cold and a large, dark-haired man exited the back door he’d been staking out. As the women shuffled off to their cars, the man punched numbers into a keypad, securing the door. Carson clenched his fists as the man pulled out a cigarette and patted his pockets, no doubt searching for a lighter.

“Just leave,” Carson said in a pleading whisper.

Cigarette finally lit, the man moved toward the parking lot. Carson held his breath as the man disappeared around the corner. A siren blared in the distance, startling him. He clenched his teeth, drew air in through his nose and blew it out through his mouth. The beating of his heart threatened to fill the night air. He was terrified, but he was more hungry than scared.

Creeping from behind the Dumpster, Carson pulled his parka up over the lower half of his face. Jumping up, he grabbed the bottom rung of the fire escape and struggled to pull himself up.

His arms shook with the effort. Sweat broke out on his skin as he managed to get a foot on the rung. The idea that vampires possessed superhuman strength was a myth, but damn, he was about as strong as an eight year old. He just had to climb to the roof, drop through the small window, and get the blood. Then he could worry about bigger issues.

Carson climbed over the ledge of the old brick building on shaky legs, propelled by his adrenaline. Without that extra push, he would have been flat on his face. The night before he’d been in this same spot on the roof and had jimmied the lock on the old wood-framed window. Before he could enter, the sound of a door slamming somewhere had scared him away. Being caught trying to enter the VMB could bring certain death, but that was better than starving.

Carson sighed in relief as the window slid open easily. His hands were so cold that he would have been unable to jimmy the lock again. Feet first, he shimmied into the dark room. He was on the third floor and unsure what he would find there. During the three days he’d staked out the building, he hadn’t seen any lights on this floor. Pulling out a flashlight, he surveyed the empty room and located the door.

The blood roared in his ears, and his speeding heart felt as if it would explode as he opened the door. Of course, the damn thing would creak. Stepping lightly, Carson walked down a hallway filled with closed doors. Undisturbed dust covering the floor spoke of the vacant nature of this floor of the building. Within the corridor, the noises of the surrounding city were faint, yet still pushed his heart rate faster. In the floor beneath his boots, the constant hum, like an engine running, vibrated up into his legs. At the end of the hall was a steel door with a small dark window that he hoped led to the stairway. The longer he spent wandering, the higher his chances of being found. Clenching his jaw, he pushed open the heavy door, the cold metal chilling the sweat on his palms. His light flashed over the edge of a railing. He found stairs going down to the left. Walking down one flight, he found another door, but what he needed was on the first floor.

Descending farther, the flashlight flickered. Carson froze. Stopping to shake the light, he could hear the beating of his overwrought heart in his ears, feel the knot of dread expand in his gut. Gods, if he had anything in his stomach to throw up, he would. Right now, he needed the blood that the Vampire Blood Market (VBM) provided. Carson’s teeth had only sunk into a vein once and the nightmare of that moment had forever been burned into his memory. Besides, from what he’d heard, the bite hurt the donor like a bitch. That was mainly the sport of pain sluts and adrenaline junkies who visited bars where biting was still legal. In his isolated world of Gifford, NY, blood had always been supplied. Now, he had to feed himself. Without money, that meant stealing what he needed.

At the bottom of the stairs, he peered through the small window into the VBM. Walls of illuminated refrigerated cases held blood in containers similar to milk jugs. Unfortunately, stealing milk didn’t hold the same consequence as stealing blood.

Ignoring the dangerousness of his mission, Carson grasped the door handle. What he feared would be locked opened freely. Inside the VBM, the refrigerated cases hummed. The air was cooler than in the hallway. Carson’s mouth watered and his empty stomach clenched tight. Rushing to the first case, he pulled open the door. He grabbed the closest opaque white container and ripped the top off. Just as he lifted the container with the lifesaving liquid to his lips, the lights came on and a voice shouted, “Freeze!”

Carson dropped the container and gasped. His heart pushed into overdrive, his breaths barely escaped his throat. He gaped at the three men and two women dressed in black uniforms pointing guns at him. Carson tried to remain still but his feet moved backward without thought.

“Freeze or we’ll shoot!” A man with short black hair, who was larger than a truck, leveled a gun at Carson’s head. The man could end all of Carson’s pain. The fear, the hunger, the uncertainty, the agony of losing his family. Just charge at the giant—or slip his hand into his pocket as if he had a gun—and the bullets would do the rest. But as he ran into the wall behind him, his muscles seized. He was going to die no matter what he did.

“Down on your knees and hands on your head!”

Without thought, Carson went down hard on his knees and rested his hands on his head. His head swam from hunger, and his legs shook. It was all he could do to remain upright. Carson closed his eyes and thought of his younger brother, Caden, and his mom. He just wanted this to be over quick.

“Strip him,” he heard the gruff voice say.

Carson’s chest locked up as hands grabbed him. They ripped Carson’s parka over his head and then his sweater and T-shirt were next. The chill on his skin sent a shudder through his emaciated body.

Please, do it quickly.

Hands held him by his shoulders and arms, as if at any minute he might resist. There wasn’t an ounce of resistance left in him, not an ounce of fight. Tears burned his eyes like acid. Gods, his life had sucked so far. This was the perfect ending.

The large man stepped forward. Heavy black boots scraped the floor. NVJ in large white letters crossed his chest. New Vampire Justice. The vampire equivalent of a SWAT team, there because Carson had been trying to steal blood, an act punishable by immediate death.

“You have been caught in the act of stealing blood from a certified Vampire Blood Market, an act punishable by death by the Vampire Justice Act of 2003. Under the jurisdiction of the New Vampire Justice code number 456.5, I, an enforcment officer for the city of Utica, NY, hereby pass the sentence of death. Do you have anything you wish to say before this judgment is carried out?”

 

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About JC Wallace

 

JC Wallace started writing from a young age, but took a break for marriage, kids, and college (in that order). He recently rediscovered his passion and ventured out into the brave new world of publishing with his short, Waiting for Snow, and his first novel, Curiosity Killed Shaney. At night and on the weekends, JC writes about all things men, believing there is nothing hotter than two men finding and loving one another, whether for a night or forever. An avid reader of M/M romance, JC loves a good twist of a plot, HEA, HFN, or tragic ending. He also writes what his bestie calls HUNK (Happy Until the Next Kidnapping).

 

In his daytime hours, JC works with individuals with autism and behavior problems. He is owned by three kids, one grandchild and one on the way, two dogs and one cat. He lives in the beautiful Adirondack Mountains in Northern NY.