Literary Nymphs
Interview
Title: Heartstrings
Author: S.J. FrostPublisher: MLR Press
Genre: M/M Erotic Romance, Contemporary
Release Date: May 18, 2012
BuyLink:
http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowBook.php?book=SJFHEART
What inspired the story?
I've always had a love for music. Sadly, no
talent for playing it, and perhaps that's why I seek to express my appreciation
for it through the written word. I've written a few books set in the music
world, and with Heartstrings, I return there again. While my books to date have
all been centered around the rock industry, this one is a little different in
that it crosses genres between classical and rock. My love for classical music
goes as far back as that for rock. Some may think it's an odd blend to have
those two genres as my favorites, but I don't think so. A lot of rock and pop
musicians use classical influences in their sound. So while I've been exploring
the rock world in my writing, I've also been hoping, waiting, for a classical
musician to come to me. He finally did in the form of violin virtuoso, Las
Lamont.
Las came to me fully formed. I knew all about
him within minutes of him stepping forward, but I also had a real life model I
looked to for inspiration in learning more about the solo career of a classical
solo artist. None other than my personal favorite violinist, David Garrett.
When hearing him play the violin, it's hard to not feel inspired.
I had also been wanting to write a story
featuring a "non-American" band, as I've been a fan of several
international artists over the years; Queen, Def Leppard, U2, Coldplay, to name
a few, and I wanted to write a band from somewhere other than the States. It
just happened right as Las came forward, so too did Quinn Patrick, drummer for
Lions Rampant, the Scottish rock band. It seemed my love for classical and rock
was melding together in a way and with a force even I hadn't expected. It all
led to the creation of Heartstrings, and what I hope will be an enjoyable story
for all who read it.
EXCERPT:
Lying on the king-size bed in his hotel room,
his eyes closed, Quinn let the soft notes from the violin float over him. He
could almost feel them caressing him. Each one moved so fluidly, with such
masterful skill in Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise, and yet with a power so subtle his
emotions stirred. He went from a sensation of awe, to yearning, to
invigoration, and behind his closed eyes moisture built in appreciation of the
sheer beauty. The music coursed through him, filling not only his ears, but his
whole being.
The way the violin sang, its
voice lush and rich, made it seem as though he were listening to a living
entity perform. Perfection. It could be described as nothing less. This was the
work of a virtuoso. This was Las.
With the violin’s voice
fading into the piece’s end, a knock sounded on his door. Quinn opened his
eyes, pulling in a deep breath. He felt like he’d just come out of a trance. He
sat up slowly, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, the violin continuing
to whisper through his mind.
Knocking rattled the door a
second time.
Quinn shook his head
slightly, attempting to clear it, and rose to his feet. He switched off the
stereo and moved through the bedroom suite, smoothing his clothes on the way to
the door. Anticipation replaced the sense of peace the music had brought to
him. Since meeting Las that afternoon, he’d had trouble focusing all through
lunch with Greg and the meeting afterward, wanting the business to wrap up so
he could call him.
Quinn stopped at the door,
doing a final glance down at his clothes and running a hand over his hair. He opened the door, presenting a smile. His
breath caught as he looked at Las.
Las stood with one hand on
the outer doorframe, the stance pulling open the top of his black button down
shirt. Quinn could see the muscled lines of Las’s chest, the skin smooth and a
light bronze. He wore perfectly pressed black dress pants and a black leather
jacket that ended just below his hips.
Las had been looking down,
but now lifted his head. Quinn noticed he’d forgone shaving, the stubble
accenting his dark clothing. He had his dark blond hair pulled back in a
ponytail, same as he’d worn it that afternoon, and Quinn couldn’t help but want
to see what it looked like taken down. Las’s eyes, a light brown, locked with
his own. It took only looking into them to wake his cock and send his heart
pounding. God, but he wanted to be fucked by this man.
A sensual smile slid over
Las’s lips. “Hey. It’s good to see you again.”
Quinn took a breath. “You,
too.” He turned from the door, using the moment of not looking at Las to find
his senses. “You can come in. I just need to grab my wallet.”
Las walked in, closing the
door behind him, his gaze on Quinn’s ass in snug black leather pants. Quinn wore a white long-sleeved shirt, the
material hugging his torso and arms giving Las a vision of what the muscular
body beneath would look like unclothed. Rings ornamented Quinn’s fingers, and
beneath the left shirt sleeve Las saw the edge of a thick black leather cuff
bracelet. As Quinn turned for the bedroom, he watched him shake his fingers
through his long, black hair.
Las smiled to himself. Quinn
was so rock star. It was impossible to look at him and not think he was
involved with rock music in some way. There was simply a different feel to him
from other people, as though the energy and power of the music he played
reverberated around him all the time. It
made him wonder what Quinn would be like in bed. Wild and unhindered, he imagined. He hoped to
find out tonight.
Las cleared his throat,
lifting his voice to carry into the bedroom. “I’m glad you called me this
afternoon.”
Quinn stepped out, smiling
and pulling on a black leather coat. “And I’m glad you weren’t busy. I was
afraid it’d be too short notice and you’d already have plans for the night.”
“Actually, other than
Julian, I don’t know anyone in this city. I live in New York
Quinn headed toward the
door. “You two go a ways back, then?”
“Back to Juilliard. He was a
couple years behind me, but we were still good friends.” As Quinn reached to
open the door, Las took a graceful step to the side, putting a hand on it to
keep it closed. He met Quinn’s eyes. “But I wanted to ask, do you really want
to go out to dinner, or should we just order something up?”
A surprised laugh broke from
Quinn. “Well, you’re not shy, are you?
But I normally like to have at least a couple hours of good conversation
with someone before I fuck ’em.”
Las took his turn to laugh.
“And here I thought all rock stars fucked on the fly.”
Quinn’s smile grew larger.
“Oh, I’ve done that, too. And I still do from time to time. But you see, if I want to have a conversation
with you first, then it means I really like you.”
Las moved his hand down to
the doorknob. “In that case, I feel honored. Shall we?”
Quinn nodded and walked
through the open door. With Las behind him, he adjusted his cock, made fully
hard from Las’s lack of subtlety.
The elevator opened right
after he hit the down button, and as he stepped in, Las moved to stand close to
his side. Though Las didn’t touch him, Quinn’s skin tingled with the desire to
feel him, even if it was just a brush of his hand. He took a deep breath, hoping to calm
himself, but all it did was let him inhale the spice of Las’s cologne, the
fragrance strong, sharp, and bold. Fitting to its wearer.
He slowly turned his head
toward him, finding Las gazing at him.
His voice low, husky, Las
said, “You look really good.” He touched the top of Quinn’s leather pants at
his hip. “I especially like these.”
“If that’s so, then you’d
probably really like my black leather kilt.”
Las leaned closer to him.
“The easier the access, the better.”
Quinn wet his lips. He
started to regret the decision not to have food brought up to his room, and
wondered if it was too late to change his mind.
The elevator door opened,
snapping Quinn back to the moment. He hadn’t even felt it stop. He glanced out, seeing a small group of
people staring at them, seeming hesitant to enter. If how he felt inside
transferred even halfway to his appearance on the outside, he most likely
looked about ready to drop to his knees to suck Las’s cock down his throat, so
he could understand the people feeling uncomfortable. He gave a polite smile
and nod to the group, and stepped out of the elevator.
Where can we find your website?
