Thursday, August 29, 2013

Billierosie Likes Running Dry

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.

Monday, August 26, 2013

The Neverending Me2 Horror

Yet another reviewer has been tricked by my hideous doppelganger!

Brian Jewell from Edge Boston (and Bay Windows):
Until the most recent movie version, each iteration of Invasion of the Body Snatchers has been tailored to the up-to-the-minute fears of its generation. This eerie novel goes where the Nicole Kidman vehicle should have, drawing on conspiracy theories, urban anomie, identity theft and consumerism to create a subtle horror tale about erosion of the self. The nameless lead character is a shallow twink, over stimulated but isolated, who has acquaintances and tricks instead of friends, and products and catalogs instead of values. After a street crazy puts the idea of pod people in his head, our hero starts noticing strange things. People are referring to conversations he doesn’t remember and events he didn’t witness. Does he have a double? Is this doppelganger trying to steal his life from him? And does this interloper come from outer space, a secret government cloning lab, a disordered brain, or is he a thought experiment come to life? Christian keeps the reader guessing, using repetitive language and a deliberate pace to evoke our Everyman’s sense of disorientation and disconnection as he realizes that no one would notice if he were erased, while barreling towards a suitably trippy conclusion. Like a lot of good science fiction, this is as much a contemporary social satire as an unsettling fantasy.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Amos Lassen Likes The Very Bloody Marys

Check out this wonderful review of The Very Bloody Marys that Amos Lassen has on Amazon. Thanks, Amos!

The homoerotic nature seems to appeal to gay people. Anne Rice had a career based upon the blood sucking creatures until she turned to Jesus. Other vampire novels and movies have won us over but "The Very Bloody Marys" is M. Christian is headed to be our new favorite. Christian is a new voice in the field and he is unique and fascinating. His arrival on the vampire scene gives us an entire new way to look at the demons. He is funny and fierce at the same time and will keep you entertained throughout the 171 pages of his new book. 
Christian is not new to the gay writing scene having been responsible for over fourteen anthologies and his short fiction has appeared in over 200 books as well as one novel and several collections. "The Very Bloody Marys", however, is about to become his breakthrough novel. 
Christian is not new to the supernatural and horror genre and in this book he has mustered up all of his strengths and given us a wonderful read. San Francisco is undergoing major woes with a clan of Vespa riding vampires killing citizens without seeming cause and it looks like the city is about to go through a "dry spell" as they threatened to drain the place of blood. Valentino, our hero and a gay cop is undergoing training through a supernatural law enforcement agency, "Le Counseil Carmin" and is swept up into the whole blood-sucking business. When Pogue, his mentor, becomes missing, Valentino is called upon to rid the town of the menace but the "Bloody Marys" are very clever and very thirsty and Valentino must use all he knows and do so quickly or possibly be done away with himself. He realizes that in order to dispose of the vampires, he must go into areas he never dreamed of, deal with some very strange characters and learn what the mystery of them is. 
This is not only a horror book but a romp which deals with many aspects of supernatural life. Apart from the vampires, there are also fairies and the undead and ghouls. The fear evoked by the novel often gives way to comedy and the mixture of the two is a wonderful way to spend some time reading. You embark upon a journey and a ride through the dark side of San Francisco and get a view of the tow you have probably never had before. 
Christian gives us a whole new way of reading and I absolutely loved it. Almost equal amounts of fear and fun make this one of the books to be read this summer.

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Mascara and Tears

Here's a little treat: the very short - but I think quite nice - story, "Mascara and Tears," from my queer erotica collection, Bodyworkout now from the always-fantastic Renaissance Books/Sizzler Editions.

Mascara and Tears

Lost in memories, Juan didn't care his mascara was running.

He'd started the night pretty. Spent his usual too much time picking and discarding this dress, that boa, that wig, those shoes, those hose, those boobs and sitting in front of the mirror playing with eyeliner, lipstick, blush and all the rest. When he'd left his little place he'd been what he wanted to be: gorgeous with just the right touch of over-the- top tacky.

For that night he had to be – he had to be more than just his usual devastating best. Tonight was their one-year anniversary. One year ago. He had to look his absolute best for that.

Done up, he'd though about going clubbing – showing off his gorgeous self to his friends, the other dames. It's what he'd been doing a year ago, exactly – going from this hot stop to that one, prancing and posing, whooping and playing with fans, dishing and laughing – when he'd met Alda.

Queens don't have kings. At best they have boyfriends, lovers and admirers. But Alda was different. He didn't wear a crown, didn't act like it at all but, sure enough, for Juan he was a king. From their first meeting he treated Juan like the queen that he was – held his hand, stroked his brow, told him when he looked gorgeous, said – and meant it – if this or that dress made him look fat. He was perfect, ideal.

He was a king in bed, too.

Though he didn't wear the toys on his hips like a regular leatherman, he had quite a hefty bag of tricks. In his car, parked on a dark street, looking up at a dark apartment window, Juan remembered one special time: It was after a Brazilian Carnival party – Juan done all Carmen Miranda with fruit balanced on his head – when Alda took him into an alley. Slipping on a cheesy Spanish accent Alda rumbled out "Fucking bitch – you're gonna take it and like it" and lifted Carmen's skirt, tore off her pantyhose, yanked down her panties, spat on his hand, got her all good and wet and open, slipped on a handy condom, and fucked her right there with her face pressing into dirty bricks. Sure, Juan liked it rough and wasn't new to it, but he wasn't Juan, he was Carmen and Carmen protested and fought as Alda's big dick slid into her. Squealing with pain/pleasure as Alda fucked her South American ass until Carmen ... well, Juan ... couldn't take it anymore and hard to (had to!) haul his own cock out and stroke himself as Alda. It was love, and a lovely fuck – and Alda came (jerking like a man shocked) just as Juan did, his own come painting the brick walls with shiny jism.

In his car, Juan looked up at the dark apartment window, mascara streaking his cheeks. He thought about Alda, about the other times – many in his king's apartment. 

Alda liked westerns. His little apartment had been decorated with the stuff of them: barbed wire, a saddle over the foot of his big bed, paintings of lonely-looking cowboys, wrought-iron fixtures sporting his bottomless collection of cowboy hats. On Alda's twenty-sixth birthday Juan had surprised him – doing an Indian princess was surprisingly hard (without making himself look like a cheap costume shop reject) but he was pleased with the result.

And, seeing him, Alda was as well. Juan almost didn't have enough time to even start the patter he'd been rehearsing all day before Alda grabbed Pocahantas like a starving mountain man.

"Ain't you the most beautiful thing I've ever done seen," Alda said, tossing one of his hats on his head and tearing at Pocahantas – removing her simple buckskin with one swipe of his meaty (though fine) hand.

The Indian princess squealed in protest – but not for long: it's hard to argue when a condomed cock is filling your mouth.

"Tasty as sweet corn," Alda said, slowing moving her mouth up and down on his cock, fucking her face with his big dick. Pocahantas tried to force him away but the cowboy was too strong for her (that and Juan didn't really want to escape). Savagely, persistently, he filled the girl's mouth, pushing and pulling his cock into her till – with a hearty "Yippie Kay Yay!" that must have startled the neighbors – he came: hot cream jerking out of his cock and warming the inside of Juan's mouth.

Pocahantas and the cowboy fucked and sucked each other till they couldn't – till their bodies refused to come any more: it wasn't until late the next day that Juan could turn, dazed and blurry, to wish his lover, "Happy Birthday."

One year. In his car, Juan looked up at the window. Remembering other times, other kisses, chats, dinners, breakfasts – other comes and laughter. He remembered and cried, his tears marking his face with the stigmata of a sad drag queen.

Starting his car, he blew a kiss to the dark apartment window. Driving away he remembered one more thing, one of the last things Alda had said, before the machines stopped beeping and the crying really started: "The king is dead, sweetheart – long live the queen."

Friday, August 16, 2013

Out Now: BodyWork - Gay Erotica

Wonderful!  I'm proud to announce a brand new collection of my gay smut, from the always-wonderful Renaissance EBooks/Sizzler Editions: BodyWork - Gay Erotica!

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 my an acknowledged master of genre and see why everyone says he's an wonderful erotic writer. 
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 
M.Christian is one sick fuck – the reason I still read erotica- Shar Rednour 
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 stries offer the sizzle of stroke-book sex combined with the dark lyricism of the perverse.-  Lucy Taylor 
M.Christian’s fiction has a sexy logic all its own.  He’s inventive and he’s irreverent.  His language can seduce, surprise, and body-slam you.- Cecilia Tan

Monday, August 12, 2013

Excerpt From Running Dry: The Complete Series

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.


 "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.


Sunday, August 11, 2013

Mysterious Galaxy On The Very Bloody Marys

Here's a very cool pre-release review for my queer vamp noir thriller novel, The Very Bloody Marys - part of the new Sizzler Edition's ManLove Collection, of course

"Combines several of M. Christian’s strengths, writing queer and supernatural / horror fiction, with only occasional touches of his other strength, erotica. Vampire protagonist Valentino is a reluctant trainee in the supernatural international law enforcement organization, Le Counseil Carmin. He half heartedly assists his mentor, Pogue, in enforcing the rules in San Francisco—that is, until Pogue goes missing and Valentino must strive to rise to the occasion to rid the City by the Bay of trouble in the form of The Very Bloody Marys and a deadly faery or two, using what he recalls of his training and the limited resources at his disposal. Readers will never view night life in San Francisco quite the same way. A WELCOME ADDITION TO THE VAMPIRE NOIR GENRE."
-Maryelizabeth Hart, Mysterious Galaxy, San Diego

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Lynna Reynolds Likes Stroke The Fire

Here's a great review of my new book, Stroke The Fire: The Best ManLove Stories of M.Christian (part of the new M.Christian ManLove Collection from Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions) by Lynna Reynolds - from the very cool Stroke The Fire blog tour!

This book is the best of M.Christian’s ManLove Fiction but it is so much more. Instead of giving us one story, he packs in a lot of stories in just a few pages. When you purchase this book you need to know that the stories can be very graphic. And what’s good about an anthology is you don’t have to feel as if you have to read all the stories at once.

M.Christian gives us one story where he has you thinking of food. He also shows the reader that there is more than one way for two people to love each other. Some couples seem totally vanilla and others more adventurous. There are those people that like to be treated like someone else’s property. One short story had me thinking that if it were made into a movie Nathan Lane would be the perfect diva (a la Bird Cage).

Our author also doesn’t use the same type of story over and over. We get some paranormal, a lot erotic, and even some gore (think bloody). This book is not for someone who can’t think outside the box or have an open mind. You need to accept strong language and scenes that are very descriptive. There was one short story that had me think “incestuous”. M.Christian even surprised me with one story with religious undertones (I have a feeling you will know it as soon as you read). I will admit that a couple of the stories lost me – but it’s possible it was just me. You will have to let me know if you feel the same.

If you are looking for a straight book of romance, you won’t find it here. M.Christian explores all different types of love and you become a part of the story. Unless you are a person with no feelings, you can’t help but be touched (good or bad) by his writing. If you are someone that likes a little “meat” to your story, then you will want to get this book.

Rating: 4 stars

Monday, August 5, 2013

Kathleen Bradean Likes Filthy Boys

Here's a very nice review of my queer collection, Filthy (now reprinted by the great Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions as Filthy Boys) by the ever-great Kathleen Bradean:

I read a guide to reviewing books recently. It said a reviewer should be impartial. I can see that point of view; the work should be judged on its own merit. However, it's impossible for me to pick up a book by M. Christian and not have expectations that are based on previous works I've read. So I guess it's only fair to begin this review with full disclosure: I'm a fan.

I'm torn over the idea of erotica as a distinct genre, and M. Christian's work is fuel for this internal debate. In The Hope of Cinnamon, a future society rescues gay victims from Nazi death camps and brings them forward in time to a sanctuary. Gen, one of the Helpers who works to integrate the Rescued into their new home finds out that few of the Rescued successfully survive the transition. He decides to travel back in time to experience the death camps for himself so that he will have a better understanding of why the Rescued fail to thrive in a society that fully accepts them. While this story does touch on sex and sexuality, it is a great example of speculative fiction that prompts further examination of our time and how current and future gay generations need to be aware of the history of gay culture and see it in proper historical perspective instead of viewing it, and judging, through hindsight.

As much as I hate the term coming-of-age tale, Utter West is a near-future story that shows a character coming of age, and more. Pony is the narrator's hero, the one who escaped their suburban hell and went beyond it to something wonderful and mystical - or so the narrator wants to believe. Unaware that he's destroying the beautiful myth that's grown around his disappearance, Pony comes back as an ordinary adult, prompting the narrator to break free and take the journey Pony failed to make into the beyond of the Utter West.

If noir is more your style, enjoy M. Christian's homage to Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood Boulevard, or sink into the corner pocket of the night world of pool hustlers in The Hard WayThat Sweet Smell is really the scent of corruption, but keep telling yourself it's success, because in this story, that delusion is all the narrator has to cling to.

Moby is purely tall tale, told with the flair of real yarn-spinner. Could anyone stink that much, be that cussedly mean, or be that hung? It's all in the telling - joyously and outrageously over the top.

Or maybe you're in the mood for bittersweet romance and love. Flyboy is the soaring romance we all long for, crashed down to earth by the military's Don't Ask Don't Tell policy. And Love is a writer's story, about how much it means to us when our stories are wanted, and how hard it is to separate the pure love of acceptance from the physical.

And then there's horror. Friday Night at the Calvary Hotel is the hardest story to read in this collection for it's intense mix of sadism, masochism, religious imagery and sex. Stories like that cling to you long after you've put the book down. You decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but I like that. Suddenly, Last Thursday is horror of a different stripe - lush and gothic, where you might have to read a line several times before your brain accepts what it's telling you. That slow dawning of realization is delicious and shivery.

In the movie Sunset Boulevard, Joe Gillis says, "Sometimes it's interesting to see just how bad bad writing can be." Yes, but it's gratifying to see just how good good writing can be too. It's unfortunate that erotic writing has a reputation for bad writing, but sit down with this collection and let M. Christian change that prejudice.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Out Now: The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of M. Christian

I am extremely pleased and proud to be able to announce the publication of The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of M. Christian

What makes this book so special is that it is made up of stories that have previously appeared in Maxim Jakubowski's excellent Mammoth Book of New Erotica series - an honor that still makes me giggle like a schoolgirl.

What's also cool about this new collection is that it has a little bit of everything ... for everyone: erotic science fiction, queer erotic stories, and more! It's quite literally a book for just about everyone.

The Color of Lust - A shark, seedy poolhall, and a wager ... Daisy knew the hustle but what she didn't count on was being played herself. But in the best possible way.... Everything But The Smell Of Lilies - In the near future, Justine is a sex worker with a unique twist: for a fee her clients can do whatever they want - including kill her. Everything is going well for her ... until, that is, she comes across an ambulance attendant with his own unique fetish.  Betty Came - A sweet, and extra-hot, tale of longing and lesbian desire: what do you do when you know what you is so very wrong ... but feels so very right?  Regrets - Sitting on a chair, arms on the desk, fingers on the keyboard, words on the screen-" the letter is a final goodbye from a fellow to the world he's wronged ... or is it? And if he didn't write it then who did?  The New Motor - A steampunky tale of outrageous turn-of-the-century inventiveness: John Murray Spear created The New Motor, The Mechanical Savior, but it was a special woman who gave it a sexy spark of life ... and then some.  NY by Way of Taos - In a trailer baking in the hot desert sun, two women lose themselves to desire and fantasy: going to new and, for them, unexplored sexual worlds ... like New York City