Fugly - K.Z. Snow [Aug 02]

[Maria]

Soon to be released - a new Molten erotic romance book

Fugly

by: K.Z. Snow

ISBN: 978-1-59578-739-2

Stay tuned to this topic for all the latest on this new Molten

Blurb:


When a wizard is happily in love, he tends to get complacent. When he gets complacent, he tends to let magick fall by the wayside. Jackson Spey hasn't thrown around any mojo in a while. Here's his chance.


What happens to a young man's self-image, and his sex life, when he wakes up one morning to see his good looks significantly altered for the worse? In this modern fable, three gay friends find out the answer when they hit on the wrong guy in a club one night.

Todd, Fallon, and Jake think they're pretty damned hot. As a result, their standards for worthwhile hook-ups are appallingly superficial. The men aren't total jerks; they just need an adjustment in perspective. And they get it, in spades, from a mysterious stranger who's sick of seeing his beautiful partner pawed by dawgs.

As the trio of friends try to understand and cope with their new appearances, the pretty boys they normally pursue continue to shun them. But in the eyes of three ordinary, overlooked men on the sidelines of their lives, it's the heart that matters far more than the hot.

BUY IT NOW!

[Maria]

Excerpt:
(unedited)


Another day, another dreamer.

Fallon strolled around Runway Room Two. He checked the audio and video equipment and the positions of the lights—everything was good to go—then sat on a folding chair before a table that supported a small control panel. He crossed his arms over his chest and his legs over each other and impatiently began bobbing the uppermost.

“Tyler?” he called out, then checked the wall clock.

Although Tyler Burke was paying for ninety minutes’ worth of coaching, he was again pissing away at least thirty of those minutes in the dressing room. Fallon had yet to see him in street clothes. He always arrived at Stage Right before Fallon got there, and he always departed after Fallon had left the room.

Fallon rose, walked the length of the runway, and went to one of the two doors flanking the stage. “Ty, you don’t have to practice in costume, you know.”

“Yes I . . . fuck . . . yes I do.”

Fallon leaned an ear toward the door. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Another “fuck,” this one clipped and muted. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. I just speared my goddamned cornea with one of my eyelashes.” He obviously meant the fake ones.

“I’m telling you, you don’t have to be in full—”

“Just go away and let me get ready. Christ knows I’m paying enough.”

Shaking his head, Fallon went back to the console. Many of the hopefuls who paid for Stage Right’s services were lost causes—Tyler Burke was a perfect example—but the coaches and instructors weren’t allowed to tell them that.
Another five minutes went by. For the umpteenth time in the past month, Fallon touched his face. The rash, or whatever the hell it was, had put a heavy damper on his sex life. Going out in this condition didn’t net him anything but negative attention. He’d found that out at Bent this past weekend and at Lady Dah’s the weekend before.

Humiliating, being treated like a leper. One tantalizing techie he’d asked to dance had even said to him, “Sorry, man, I don’t know if you’ve got scabies or herpes or what, but I sure as hell don’t want it.” After that, Fallon had gone on the Internet to look for a less threatening skin condition to call his own. Now he blamed the blotches on eczema. Todd fell back on the latex allergy and Jake claimed to have a form of dermatitis.

None of the excuses helped much. He and his friends were still generally shunned.

“David Ocho thinks we’re cursed.”

A chill crawled across Fallon’s back. What a freaky thing to say. David Ocho didn’t seem like a nutjob. Then again, Fallon didn’t know any writers but him. Maybe they were all a bubble off plumb.

Occasional thumps and mutters came from the dressing room and redirected Fallon’s thoughts. He checked the tune Tyler had picked for this session.

“Oh no,” he groaned under his breath.

Etta James, “Tell Mama.”

The dressing room door opened, and the World’s Ugliest Drag Queen rocked and faltered up the steps to the stage.

“Well?” Ty said. “Hit the lights.”

His vocal register was closer to Paul Robeson’s than Etta James’s. Good thing he’d be lip-syncing. Fallon hit the lights.

A blinding sparkle and gleam surrounded Ty’s beefy form. Fallon squinted against it. Tiny stars born of sequins, glitter, and bugle beads went nova every time he moved.

Fallon lifted a hand to shield his eyes. “Don’t you think that gown is a little . . . Vegas showgirl with relatives in a Chinese bead factory?”

“The boss likes glamour.” Ty smoothed his square hands over his platinum wig, highlighting the stitchery of fine black hair on the backs of his fingers. “Besides, I got this for a steal from a guy who’s retiring from the business. I can’t afford new dresses.”

Fallon wanted to say, Ty, for godssake, you look like a man piñata at a birthday party for Cher. You are not cut out for this line of work.

“I’ll show you what I’ve come up with so far,” said Ty. “Then you can help me finesse it.”

“But we haven’t finished ‘finessing’ the Nina Simone song yet.”

“I worked on that at home. Now I need to get his one down.” Ty glanced at his palm.

“What’s on your hand?” Fallon asked suspiciously.

“The lyrics.”

Fallon sagged. Why on God’s green earth had this man decided to moonlight as an entertainer?

Ty was getting antsy. He wriggled. “Let’s just kick this off, okay? I’m starting to itch under here.”

There wasn’t much Fallon could do except honor Ty’s wishes. The client was king—or, in this case, some bizarre king-queen hybrid. After adjusting the level of light, Fallon checked the angle of the stationary camcorder and turned on the music.

With a series of body-wide jerks, Tyler “Bubbles” Burke began his assault on Etta James.

Fallon paced around the runway, studying his student. He mounted the stage and regarded Ty from the rear. He had a damned nice ass, but it was hardly a girly ass. His shoulders were too wide to convey lithe grace. And his movements . . .

“Stop!” Fallon clicked off the music with the remote he carried.

Startled, Ty turned. His feet wobbled, ankles nearly buckling.

“Okay,” Fallon said, walking up beside him. “For starters, you need lower heels. You’re either gonna cripple yourself or somebody in the audience when you fall off the damned stage. For another thing, you’re too focused on remembering the lyrics to ‘act’ the lyrics. We’ve discussed this before. Let the rhythm of the song and the story it’s telling determine your movements.”

He looked up at Ty. Damn, the dude was tall. Within the tar pits of his eye makeup, his gray irises were astonishingly pretty. Fallon suddenly wished he could see this man in his natural state, stripped of all the goo and bling.

“Are you sure you’re gay?” he asked without thinking.

Ty put his hands on his narrow hips and compressed his glossy lips. “Actually, no. Even though I haven’t been near pussy in the thirty-one years since I emerged from the womb, I’m still not sure.” His sarcasm morphed into suspicion. “What are you getting at?”

What he was getting at hit Fallon in a most abrupt and jarring way. I’d love to see you come out of that dressing room looking like a boxer instead of a bitch. “Nothing. Never mind. Just stand at the end of the runway and watch me. I’ll show you what I mean and talk you through it.”

His reaction to Ty rattled him. He’d been attracted to a man in drag just once before, and that was six years ago in New Orleans. But that man was physically flawless, moved liked a gazelle, and was done up only for Mardi Gras night. It was all in fun, and he worked that fun to perfection. Tyler Burke, however, wanted to make this a second career and, what was worse, looked and moved like an alien inhabiting a human body.

When Fallon wondered if Ty could see his “eczema,” his surge of self-consciousness rattled him even more. Why should he care how he looked to this guy?

He reran the song to the beginning. Ty took up his viewing position at the end of the runway.

Just do it. Just ignore him and do it and don’t think.

It wasn’t hard for Fallon to let the song carry him away. As long as he could remember, his body had responded to music as naturally as a planet responded to gravitational force. So, as Etta James sang, his arms made a fluid flourish here, his hips swayed there, his hands and feet rose and fell in pantomime, and his upper body shimmied seductively. It felt great. Better than a swim in a cool, clean lake on a hot, muggy day. Better than any drug- or alcohol-induced buzz. People who said they didn’t like to dance always left Fallon incredulous.

“Repeat please,” Ty murmured after the song ended. He stood with his arms crossed beneath his false bosom.

Fallon went through the song a second time, explaining why certain motions and gestures fit certain parts of the lyric. He tried to keep his improvisations similar to the first run-through so his student wouldn’t get too confused.

Tell mama, he cajoled his audience-of-one, what you want, what you need.

Ty didn’t look confused. He looked mesmerized. And Fallon was starting to feel just a little aroused. He didn’t know if dancing was doing it, or the fact he had such an attentive audience, or, God forbid, the thought of a butch man in a lounge-singer dress suffering the unique agony of a growing erection. A hideaway gaff, designed to keep one’s dick tucked neatly between one’s legs, was not a boner-friendly piece of apparel.

[K. Z. Snow]

Thanks, Maria!

[Lily]

I'm so looking forward to reading Fugly!

[Val]

Looks good!

[wren]

Loved the excerpt! Looks like another winner, KZ!!

[Teresa]

I can't wait to read Fugly!

[K. Z. Snow]

Hi, everybody! Thanks for stopping. (You know I mean that. ) Christine Griffin's bee-oo-tiful cover should be up soon. I just saw it today, and I was really thrilled.

By the way, if you're in the mood for a protagonist with an unusual profession, one of the guys in this book is an embalmer. You'll get to see him at work, too.

[Jenre]

I'm eagerly anticipating this book, KZ. Love the extract

[K. Z. Snow]

Hi, Jen!

[Tam]

Originally Posted by K. Z. Snow

By the way, if you're in the mood for a protagonist with an unusual profession, one of the guys in this book is an embalmer. You'll get to see him at work, too.

Only you sweetie, only you.

Looking forward to it. Now give me a cookie.

[Tam]

Hey, why does it say I'm a virgin? I have the kid to prove it's not true. Sigh.

Oh, well, I see Wren, Lily, Val and Jen are all virgins too and lord knows Wren's not, so I'm okay with that.

[K. Z. Snow]

You guys are the greatest.

(Wren, yeah . . . uh )

[Mike]

Hey looky, a little Snowstorm swingin' thru town--just look at all those new Flakes

Originally Posted by K. Z. Snow

Christine Griffin's bee-oo-tiful cover should be up soon.

Yes it should, so let's... Oh look!

PS virginity doesn't last long around here

PPS KZ, your sig line so matches your nanas

[Tina Burns]

Wow, awesome cover.

[Bonnie Dee]

Great idea and your cover is so unique. Love it.

[K. Z. Snow]

Originally Posted by Mike

Hey looky, a little Snowstorm swingin' thru town--just look at all those new Flakes

I assure you, they are all highly literate Flakes.

Yes it should, so let's... Oh look!

PS virginity doesn't last long around here

I can verify this.

PPS KZ, your sig line so matches your nanas

Heh-heh.

[K. Z. Snow]

Hi, Tina! As I mentioned on my blog, LSB's covers have become absolutely outstanding -- some of the best in the business. This one bowled me over at first sight.

[K. Z. Snow]

Originally Posted by Bonnie Dee

Great idea and your cover is so unique. Love it.

Hi, Bonnie! Nice to see you here. Thanks so much for the kind words.

[Eve Langlais]

Wow that cover is striking. The anguish in his eyes, so evocative. Sounds wicked too.

[Rachel Fox]

Look at the art -- way cool.

Rachel

[K. Z. Snow]

Hi, Eve and Rachel. That cover portrait nearly threw me off my desk chair when I saw it. Christine's interpretation of the theme is amazing.

[Tam]

Hey sweetling. He looks so sad. Poor dear. :-( I love the font. It's cool that looks like scribbles.

[Gem Sivad]

The excerpt has me hooked, the cover is dessert. Wow! Congratulations.

[K. Z. Snow]

Welcome back, Tam.

[K. Z. Snow]

Hiya, Gem! Long time no see. It's really nice to hear from you again. How's the writing life been treating you?

Yep, that cover is a "hooker." Any talent I don't have, which pretty much covers most talent, really leaves me in awe.

[wren]

Just stopped by to visit and now I want to know what the hey is with the f*cking bananas? KZ?

[K. Z. Snow]

Originally Posted by wren

Just stopped by to visit and now I want to know what the hey is with the f*cking bananas? KZ?

Wren, think about this. It follows from Tam's comment re. virgins, which in turn follows from your memorable (all too memorable; in fact, never to be lived down) comment re. you-know-what-with-whom. Capisci?

Besides, who doesn't like bananas?

[Maria]

Release date: August 2.

[K. Z. Snow]

A release date -- woot! And here's something else I discovered. I just got my 'puter back from "the shop" (a really big, bad worm had royally messed it up), and the repair guy added more RAM. Suddenly, for the first time ever, I see that the danged Smilies actually move.

I had no idea. None. Now I want to play with these things all day!



(Gawd, I'm pathetic. )

[Rhonda Print]

Congrats on the release date!
I love the cover.

[K. Z. Snow]

Thank you, Rhonda! Release days never get old. I can only take a teeny-tiny slice of credit for the cover, and that's in the idea department. But Christine's execution was amazing.

(Oh those Smilies!)

[Maria]

Originally Posted by K. Z. Snow

Suddenly, for the first time ever, I see that the danged Smilies actually move.

I had no idea. None. Now I want to play with these things all day!



(Gawd, I'm pathetic. )

No yer not, you're cute!

[Rhonda Print]

Originally Posted by Maria

No yer not, you're cute!

I love these things! Didn't realize I could click on more.




Okay, okay. I'm back to work...

[K. Z. Snow]

Maria, you made me laugh. So here I am again, ogling those damned bananas.

I think we need even more, Rhonda!

Okay, let me get some exercise before I return to my WIP.



(Phrew! I'm worn out.)

[Danielle D Smith]

GORGEOUS cover...what one can do in Photoshop and Painter...WOW.

I also enjoy the boinking bananas (bananas being a good symbol of the fabulous phallus... )

[K. Z. Snow]

I have no clue how that cover was made, Danielle, which is why I'm a writer and not an artist. But there's clearly a level of expertise here that too few cover designers possess.

[Rhonda Print]

His eyes on the cover are sooo sad. I just want to give him a hug.

[K. Z. Snow]

Yes, his eyes are what make his face so expressive. And that hint of a pout. Brilliant!

[Danielle D Smith]

I'm familiar with C. Griffin's portfolio (we both have portfolios on Epilogue and DeviantArt). I know she works primarily in Photoshop. Used to hate digital art, but now I'm loving it with all the upgrades available. You can create art that looks much more like a "real" painting. Love it!!!

[K. Z. Snow]

I used to hate it too, Danielle -- not because I'm an artist, but because I've seen such cringe-worthy examples of digitally created covers. And honestly, I did think at first that Christine's image for Fugly was a painting! (Then, of course, common sense smacked me upside the head and said, "Snap out of it! Who do you think you are? Stephenie Meyer?" )

[Mike]

Originally Posted by K. Z. Snow

I've seen such cringe-worthy examples of digitally created covers

That's not a digital thing, check out a nearby fridge door, or better still, Longmire

[Violet Summers]

Stunning Cover!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[K. Z. Snow]

I guess I meant abuse of Photoshop in the third degree: bad composition; clashing colors and inappropriate fonts; zombie-like poser figures {{{shudder}}}.

And I LOVE Longmire!

[cgriffin]

Didn't see this conversation until now...blame it on the day job!

My background is in traditional media, but when my kids came along, I had to put the paints away. Digital is SO much neater! (I'm trying to get back into oils now that the rugrats are older, though.)

'Fugly' was actually painted with Corel's Painter program; it mimics traditional media wonderfully, but is a little hard to control. PS is da bomb! I'm still using PS7, and I've no complaints. Someday I may graduate into one of the CS models...when I HAVE to!

[K. Z. Snow]

Christine, thanks so much for the explanation. I can't begin to tell you how many compliments I've received on that cover and how many times I've mentioned your name. That portrait does look like a painting . . . and now I (and my blog visitors ) know why.

Get out those oils again, girl. If your talent with digital media is this extraordinary, one can only imagine what you can do with real paint!

[Amanda Jayde]

Happy Release Day K.Z.!!!

[Alanna Coca]

Congrats on the release K.Z.

[Rhonda Print]

Happy release day!

[Danielle D Smith]

Happy release day!!!