Please welcome, A.M. Arthur to Book Reviews & More by Kathy for today’s stop on the The World As He Sees It tour.
Thank for chatting with us today. Would you mind telling us a little about yourself, your background, and your current book.
Hello! I’m a contemporary m/m romance author (who occasionally dips into paranormal). I hail from the Eastern Shore of Maryland, equal distances from beaches and corn fields, and I currently share my apartment with two rascals of kitties.
My current book, The World As He Sees It, is the second in my Perspectives series with Samhain Publishing. It’s Tristan and Gabe’s book, and anyone who read the first Perspectives knows why Tristan is super special. He has severe short term memory loss, which prevents him from living a fully realized life. Gabe spends all of his time and money taking care of his alcoholic mother, which prevents him, also, from living a fully realized life. I’m so excited for readers to finally get their story.
Tell us something about your character’s friends.
Readers met Tristan’s best friend Noel in the previous book in the series, The Truth As He Knows It (and if you haven’t read it yet, that’s okay, he has a good sized role in this book). Noel is a young police officer in a small town, settling into a brand-new relationship with a dancer named Shane. Tristan and Noel met in college and became fast friends. They’ve been intimate in the past, but quickly decided friends was way better for them. They were also together the night that changed Tristan’s life forever.
Gabe is more of a lone wolf, with casual acquaintances that filter in and out of his life. His best friend is fellow porn actor Jon Buchanan. They work out together once a week, and occasionally film scenes. Neither one is looking for romance, so they’re comfortable being around each other, bending each other’s ear, and generally being a good influence.
What is your character’s favorite meal? Favorite dessert? Favorite snack food?
Thanks to one particular scene in this book, they both have a brand new fondness for sausage….
What activity does your character absolutely hate?
Tristan hates yardwork. He doesn’t like getting dirty and sweaty and gross out in the sunshine. Growing up he learned to hate summer for the simple fact that he’d have to help trim the hedges and mow the lawn—things his very rich parents could have paid someone else to do, but his father liked giving his own personal touch.
Gabe…well, to be honest the activity that Gabe hates the most is taking care of his alcoholic mother—cleaning up her trash and empties, cleaning her up if she passes out in her own vomit, doing all of the shopping and cooking. He hates doing it, but he doesn’t know how to stop.
What other author’s book do you think your character would be good in?
Now that’s an unusual question! I’d kind of love to see Tristan interact with the Carlisle College group from Heidi Cullinan’s Love Lessons series. I think he’d get along well with Baz.
What’s your favorite decade and why?
The fifties. I love the poodle skirts, the greaser jackets, and the start of rock and roll. I’m not much for the gender role stereotypes from back then, but the fashion and the pop culture is awesome.
Title: The World As He Sees It by A.M. Arthur
Perspectives Series Book Two
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd
Genre: Contemporary, M/M, New Adult, Romance
Love knows no limits…but fear could keep them from seeing it.
Perspectives, Book 2
Gabe lives a double life. As Gabriel Henson, he works multiple jobs to support his remorseless, alcoholic mother. As Tony Ryder, he does internet porn for extra cash and regular safe sex without complications.
Yet when he encounters a scared young man freaking out in a night club, he’s compelled to reach out. Ever since then, the memory of that young man has haunted him.
Tristan Lavelle lives his life thirty minutes at a time. After a traumatic brain injury three years ago, he gets through his day recording his life in spiral notebooks and sticky note reminders.
A month after Tristan’s embarrassingly public meltdown, another chance meeting with Gabe sparks a warm, emotionally fulfilling email relationship. Both men crave more, but fear of the next step stands between them.
Until Tristan gets the opportunity to take part in a clinical trial that could improve his memory—if the side effects don’t kill him. But for Tristan, the possibility of a real life with Gabe is worth any risk…
Product Warnings: Contains two damaged but lovable heroes, secret-keeping friends with good intentions, and an abundance of inappropriate food innuendo.
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The late hour didn’t diminish the sweltering August heat, and Tristan worked up a good sweat walking. Shane and Noel both looked crazy sexy in their club clothes, and even sexier walking side by side. He was happy for Noel. Happy his best friend was in love and enjoying himself.
He was also stupidly, insanely jealous.
He stuck close with his stupid, insane jealousy because the streets were teeming with people of all ages, heading into and out of the different restaurants and clubs. They turned down a quieter side street that was more like an alley. Halfway down the block a few guys hung out against a stone wall, most of them smoking cigarettes. An industrial door with no sign or markings was being guarded by a big, burly bear of a man in a black leather vest.
“Hey, Officer Carlson,” the bouncer said. He had a deep voice to match his broad body. “Nice to see you again.”
“Hi, Mr. Henson,” Noel said.
“Bear, son. Everyone calls me Bear.”
“Right. This is my friend Tristan Lavelle.”
“A right pleasure.”
Tristan shook Bear’s hand, surprised by the gentle grip. “Hi.” He glanced at Shane, who didn’t seem at all annoyed at being left out. “Um, that’s Shane. Noel’s boyfriend.”
Bear grinned. “Yeah, I know that one all right.”
“You do?” He reached for a notebook he didn’t have, then looked at Noel for answers.
“Shane dances here once a week,” Noel said. “He got the job through Bear’s son Gabe.”
“Oh.” He didn’t bother asking if he’d already been told that. Probably. Every single piece of information that was mildly important to his life had been repeated to him at least, oh, eighteen times. Minimum.
“Enjoy yourselves, boys,” Bear said. “First drinks are on the house.”
“Thank you,” Tristan replied.
Noel pulled the door, and what had been a distant bass became an impressive thumpa-thumpa in Tristan’s chest. The interior of the club was wide and deep, with a high ceiling decorated in strands of red and blue lights. Strobes and other lighting flashed around the dance floor, which seemed to make up most of the floor space. A small U-shaped bar stood to the right. In the rear were what looked like raised platforms. Two hot guys in red short-shorts were gyrating together on one of them.
This is the kind of dancing Shane does? Shit.
He was probably twenty kinds of hot up there.
Someone jostled past them, reminding Tristan to keep moving forward. Noel was hustling them straight for the bar. Tristan couldn’t drink alcohol because of his antidepressants and anxiety medications, and Noel was driving so the only person able to drink much was Shane.
Not that Tristan was going to mourn his dry night. Men. Everywhere around him, a sea of hot men. All kinds of eye candy. Every age, height, weight, shape and body hair amount. He observed and mentally drooled over the flesh on display. The air smelled of liquor and sweat and sex, and good Lord he was starting to get lightheaded from it all.
Noel nudged them closer to the bar. A middle-aged man with gray hair and a pink sequined vest gave them all a big, toothy smile. “Noel and friends,” he said. “Richard Brightman, pleased to officially meet you, Tristan.”
“Hello,” Tristan said. Officially meet you implied they’d interacted before, but the man’s name meant nothing to him.
“I’m Bear’s husband. We own the place.”
“Oh. It’s a great place. I’m pretty sure this is my first time. I like it.”
Okay that was wrong. When was I here before?
“So what are we drinking tonight?” Richard asked. “First round on the house. Samuel Adams for you, Shane?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Shane replied.
Richard knows because Shane works here.
“I’ll have a vodka tonic,” Noel said. “Tris?”
“Virgin margarita,” Tristan said. He loved margaritas, and while a virgin wasn’t as good as one with Patrón, he couldn’t mix with his meds.
“Coming up,” Richard said.
The music changed to a faster, sharper beat. Tristan’s hips rolled in tiny motions, instinct bringing out his love of club dancing. Of getting into it with another dude, all writhing bodies and gyrating hips. Arms and legs. Sweat and heavy breathing.
Wonderful arousal stirred in his gut, heating his blood already. He might not be getting laid tonight, but damn it, he was going to have some fun.
“Hey, you guys made it,” said a sexy, sultry voice.
Tristan glanced over his shoulder to see who the voice had spoken to, only to find himself staring into a pair of kind, dark eyes. Kind, dark eyes belonging to a stunningly handsome face. Black hair. Tan skin. Tall and well-built. A walking wet dream who was smiling like they were old friends.
Holy fucking hell, he’s gorgeous.
“Hey, Gabe,” Shane said.
Those kind, dark eyes never broke from his, and Tristan couldn’t look away. Gabe was a stranger, and yet somehow familiar.
His eyes. The eyes I see. We’ve met.
“We’ve met,” Tristan said before he could think twice.
Gabe’s eyebrows twitched. “Yes, we have. Do you remember that?”
“I remember your eyes.”
A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone’s throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She’s been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop. She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn’t been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories.
When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder. She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she’s an amateur chef and trying to not poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.
Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org with your cooking tips (or book comments).
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