Sionnach Wintergreen

author of romance and fantasy


An Audiobook with Heat and Heart

My contemporary M/M romance, Zen Alpha, is now an audiobook vibrantly narrated by voice actor, Hugh Bradley! You can buy it on Amazon and Audible. If you subscribe to Audible, you can get it for free. Zen_Alpha

Although ‘alpha’ is in the title, it’s not an Omegaverse story. (No MPREG, no shifters—not that there’s anything wrong with those.) Zen Alpha is a contemporary romantic comedy. I wrote this story shortly after Trump won the U.S. presidential election. I was appalled to hear people around me describe him as ‘strong.’ He’s a chest-thumping, bullying, bellowing idiot. Narcissism isn’t strength. Cruelty isn’t strength. Willful indifference isn’t strength. I don’t know how, or exactly when, Americans started thinking personality defects were virtues, but it makes me sick.

So, I wrote Zen Alpha. No, it’s not a political diatribe or anything. It’s a sweet love story with gay characters and erotic sex scenes, but there’s an allegorical thread running through it. It’s about a young, somewhat insecure, man who keeps insisting that his obnoxious, emotionally abusive boyfriend is the man of his dreams. Even as he begins to develop feelings for his kindhearted, helpful neighbor, he wonders how he can love someone who isn’t an alpha male—the sort of self-centered, uncouth silverback society seems to think is so desirable.

Because a good romantic comedy needs a few teary scenes, Zen Alpha has some drama. But it’s a romance, so, of course, there’s an HEA (happily ever after.) If you hate Trump like I do and want to escape the toxicity of our current age, or if you just love steamy M/M romance, give Zen Alpha a listen. I hope it makes you smile and takes your mind off your problems for a bit. We all need more joy in our lives.

 


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You’re Not the Boss of Me–My Cats Are

I’m not feeling well today, but I’m attempting to write because of my cats. Yes, I said my cats. I have five of the furry divas, but only two to three are allowed in my office. There simply isn’t enough room in there for five cats. Honestly, there isn’t enough for three, but the third gets in sometimes.

Bruce and Loki

Bruce and Loki (in the living room–there’s no bar in my office. *sigh*)

The two main office cats are Loki, the little blue god of mischief, and Bruce Banner, who has a PhD in cuteness. Bruce especially loves my office. He looooooves it.

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Bruce destroying a curtain in my office. Such fun!

 

 

 

 

I wanted to die quietly in my recliner all day, but Bruce kept rubbing on my feet and nipping them. This is his cat language for ‘I want something.’ He’ll then look up to see if he has my attention and trot toward the hall that leads to my office. He’s very smart. I think he knows that if he looks cute enough, I’ll follow him anywhere.

Hecate and Loki

Hecate and Loki snugglin’

The sometimes office kitty is Hecate, my lady cat. She and Bruce don’t get along very well, but she seems to like Loki. Loki is a sweetheart; he loves everybody.

Anyway, my feline masters are insisting that I sit upright like a person with a spine and work on my upcoming gay paranormal romance. Remember to check out my latest release, A Little Sin. It’s available on Amazon and is FREE with Kindle Unlimited. It’s a mystery M/M historical romance with a western flare and steamy sex scenes. (The cats helped write that one, too.)

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Grisly murders, a hot veterinarian, and a sexy sheriff!

 


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Why Gay Men Weren’t in the Closet in 1923

A_Little_Sin

My latest gay (M/M) romance is set in 1923 in a small rural town in East Texas. A Little Sin is available through Amazon and is FREE with Kindle Unlimited. While researching this historical western mystery romance, I discovered that gay men weren’t in the closet in 1923. No one was. Closets didn’t really exist back then. People kept their clothes in armoires, chest of drawers, and chifforobes (basically an armoire combined with a chest of drawers.) The idiom didn’t exist.

Instead, gay men who pretended to be straight to fit in with the oppressive heterosexual society were said to “wear a mask.” I found this phrase both poetic and poignant. It describes so beautifully what it feels like to have to hide your true self from people. I’m genderqueer, but I am biologically female and “read” female. Most people have no idea who or what I really am. (Even when I tell them, they often don’t really understand.)  I wear a mask. The stakes, of course, of someone discovering my true identity aren’t as high for me as they are for my protagonists in A Little Sin. Still, the idea that they were wearing masks made me feel very close to them.

There are so many things we take for granted in modern America. In the world of Avery and Garland, indoor plumbing and electricity have not found their way to rural areas. There are no antibiotics. “Okay,” one of my favorite words, didn’t exist until WWII (and it was OK). Prohibition made having a glass of pinot noir illegal. In Texas, literacy tests prevented many people from voting. (It was designed to suppress the black vote.) Texas legislators were openly members of the Ku Klux Klan. (At least now they make some attempt to hide it. Yes, I live in Texas. Yes, I’m bitter.)

Although women now had the right to vote, their roles were largely domestic. Even Garland, the more progressive and enlightened of my two main characters, is amazed when his secretary—a black woman—is curious about his work as a veterinarian and wants to read his old textbooks. The fact that she is interested in science blows his mind.

There were times when I felt quite estranged from my protagonists, who are deeply religious Christians (I’m not), drink buttermilk (ugh), rarely curse, and smoke like fiends. (Smoking was okay, apparently.) I kept wanting to put glasses of scotch in their hands or make them use the “f-word.” (Because I do…a lot.) Writing for these guys was like discovering a new world. Along the way, I fell in love with them. I hope my readers do, too.

There are so many things, so many advancements—both scientific and social—that we take for granted. These things didn’t always exist. They aren’t permanent. We need to be wary of people who want to take us back into a dark, oppressive, and often violent past. We need to be vigilant, vote, and keep moving forward. How can we make America great again when the past is littered with injustices and wasn’t too great for children, people of color, women, and LGBTQIA people? I like to write about history; I wouldn’t want to live there.


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The Fur Coats

Authors often talk about what music they listen to while writing, but what do their characters listen to? In my new gay romance, Zen Alpha, the two main characters get their blood pumping with the pop punk sound of Austin’s The Fur Coats. Ward listens to them every morning before work, where he teaches autistic children. On this particular day, he and Bradley listen to them after a long night looking for a lost cat.

Check out The Fur Coats here and wake up!


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But…I Like it Rough

So, my first negative review ever was about the only book I’ve published that has been a commercial success. The reviewer criticized the BDSM in my M/M romance, Lover, Destroyer, as being “borderline hardcore” and violent with “a frail veneer of consent.”

What hurt most about these comments, once I was able to separate my bruised writer feelings and set them aside, was the fact that it felt like an attack on my lifestyle. I don’t read about BDSM in books. The BDSM in my story might be a bit edgy because that’s how I like it. I’ve been a practitioner for about twenty-five years.

In the Dark Ages, when the Internet was in its infancy and few people had access to it, people who didn’t live in a city with a BDSM club–or who simply didn’t want to be part of a club–couldn’t just google ‘BDSM etiquette.’ They had to explore and discover things on their own. That was part of the fun.

Even in an age where such things are codified and catalogued,  accidents happen. Scenes go wrong. Feelings–and sometimes flesh–get hurt. One time my husband had to see the doctor because I bruised his spleen. He’s a wonderful sub, we’re closely bonded, and he was ready to go the next weekend. (Although I limited myself to flogging his bottom.)

Sometimes BDSM, like life, is messy and chaotic. Maybe some people like to conduct their BDSM like Vulcans in surgery–and more power to them–but I don’t. It’s  not fair to say that my way is bad simply because you don’t like it or don’t understand it. In Lover, Destroyer, which is set in a pre-industrialized world, Elarhe, a budding dom, is trying to understand what masochistic Kite wants. They are learning what works for them and discovering each other’s boundaries. They’re learning about each other.

I wanted to include a snippet from one of my sex scenes, but couldn’t find a piece tame enough. So, here’s Elarhe learning about after care following his first session with Kite.

When they were done, Elarhe removed the clamps from Kite’s nipples and sprawled on the floor, panting. Kite thudded next to him. He lifted his bandage, revealing his eyes. Elarhe stared at the high ceiling. Kite stared at him. After a moment, Kite asked, “Will you hold me?”

Elarhe couldn’t help himself and laughed at him. He stopped laughing when he saw the sincerity on Kite’s face. “I guess. I’m all sweaty.”

“So am I.” He looked rather childlike. “It’s just—it’s like I’ve been on a long journey. I need help coming home.”

Elarhe pulled Kite into his arms. Kite snuggled against his chest in a quiet, fragile way that took Elarhe by surprise.

Elarhe kissed the top of Kite’s head. “I didn’t realize there was this part. I would have done it sooner if I had known.”

“This part is just as important as the rest,” Kite said quietly, tracing one of the lean muscles in Elarhe’s arm. “You didn’t know because I failed to tell you. It’s not your fault. You performed splendidly.”

As they embraced, Elarhe realized that he needed the cuddle, too. It closed the door on their game and returned them to their normal lives. It reassured him that Kite bore him no ill will, carried no grudges. The dungeon was its own world.