Saturday, July 6, 2019

FREE Excerpt Gay Fiction: A STARR IS BORN; 10 Married Gay Couples and Relationship Envy; Ryan Field Books

A Starr is Born by [Field, Ryan]FREE Excerpt Gay Fiction: A STARR IS BORN

Here's another excerpt from my newest release, A STARR IS BORN. I've posted it below, and here's the blurb. 

Written by Lambda-Award winning author Ryan Field, A Starr Is Born is a queer retelling of an old rags to riches trope that’s been reinterpreted many times, but this time it’s totally different with gay main characters, a gay love story, and a gay male point of view. It’s partly a light-hearted parody and partly sarcasm. It’s also highly erotic and charged with authentic, emotional gay male romance. 

From the day they meet for the first time until the day their lives change forever, Harrison Parker and Morton Starr were destined for greatness—and each other. A Starr is Born follows the paths of handsome, badly-behaving rock star Harrison Parker and sexy gender-bending performer Morton Starr, who is just starting his career.

Morton is so madly in love with his husband, Harrison, he’ll do anything to please him, including overlooking all his self-destructive issues. However, as openly gay Morton gains more fame and success in the mainstream with his popular gay love songs and his unique gender-bending image, and Harrison continues to slide downhill, there comes a point where everything has to change. And when that climax finally happens, Morton isn’t certain about anything in his future or his marriage. 


Here's the link to Amazon This book was pubbed with Riverdale Avenue Books in NYC, and it's also on their web site, and other web sites where books are sold. 

10 Married Couples and Relationship Envy

I know many, MANY gay couples who've been together anywhere from 20 to 60 years. We've been around for a long time and this is nothing new. I can tell you that first hand. I've been with my husband for 27 years and I've also never envied any of the couples in this article. I think it's wonderful, but not enviable. So I think if you take these articles with a proverbial grain of salt, there's no harm done.

And in that decade and a half, we’ve swooned over several power couples: Ellen and Portia, Elton and David – the list goes on. But with queer visibility hitting an all-time peak, we’re finding new couples to obsess with every day.

Here's a link to more


FREE Excerpt

 After Harrison took him on a tour of his music studio, Morton sang something for him, and then Harrison asked him if he wanted to go uptown to his apartment. “I’m starved,” he said. “We can go back to my place and order take out.”
Morton wasn’t so sure. “Where is your place?”
“East 69th.”
“I can’t go like this,” Morton said. He gestured to what he was wearing. “I was dressed for an audition. I only perform in drag. I normally don’t walk around town this way.”
“Are you ashamed of the way you look?” Harrison asked.
“Of course not,” Morton said. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I were ashamed.”
Harrison grabbed him by the waist and pulled him closer. He kissed him on the mouth, and then said, “Then let’s just go. My car is right downstairs. And I really am starved.”
Morton smiled and looked down. Harrison was still holding him and he realized he did want to get to know him better. “I guess we could order a pizza. It couldn’t hurt.”
“Chinese,” Harrison said. “I can’t stand pizza.”
Morton took a few steps back and gaped at him. “Who doesn’t like pizza?”
        Harrison shrugged. “I guess it’s one of my flaws.”
“Like alcohol and drugs?”
“Probably,” Harrison said. “I know my flaws all too well.”
“At least you’re not in denial,” Morton said. He was only half joking around. He’d grown up with an alcoholic dad and he’d seen denial all his life. His dad, Albert, would never admit to being an alcoholic. He considered himself a heavy drinker, which is how he wound up getting killed in a car crash along with Morton’s other dad, Stephen.
“Sometimes I wish I were in denial,” Harrison said. “It’s harder when you know you’re a fuck up.”
Morton felt a little sorry for him. “You’re not a total fuck up. You’ve done a lot.”
He smiled at Morton and said, “You know, Morton Starr, you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”
Morton felt his face turning red and he glanced down at the floor. He never knew how to reply to compliments. “You said you were hungry. We should go.”
Harrison smiled and took his hand. He led him out of the studio, down the hall, and to the elevator. Morton was relieved when the elevator didn’t stop at the floor where he’d auditioned. He didn’t want to run into any of those people because it would have been too awkward and weird, and he would have had to make up an excuse about why he’d left.
When they were outside on the sidewalk, Harrison led him to a brand new Bentley he’d left parked in front of the building in a no parking zone. As he reached down to open the passenger door for Morton, he reached up with his other hand to yank a parking ticket from the windshield. Morton looked at the parking ticket and shook his head. “You know it’s a lot easier to just follow the law and park where it’s legal. Have you ever considered that?”
“I never take the easy way. C’mon, get inside.”
This was the first time a man had ever opened a car door for him. At least it had been his experience, based on the many dates he’d had over the years, this kind of gesture wasn’t part of the routine with two gay men. He actually felt awkward about it but he didn’t say anything. Harrison seemed to be such a strong controlling man he didn’t want to insult him.
When they pulled away from the curb, Harrison hit the gas and Morton grabbed his seatbelt. “I think I just heard the car scream out in pain.”
Harrison started driving even faster, and he blew through a red light without glancing back. “These cars are practically handmade. They’re built to withstand anything.” He looked at Morton and smiled. “They’re tough as anything, like you.”
He made a right turn, hit the curb, and nearly took a street light with him. Morton held his seatbelt tighter and said, “And it’s a good thing, too.”
Harrison just laughed and drove even faster.
By the time they reached East 69th Street, Morton was ready to jump out the window and run for his life. He’d never been with anyone who drove so recklessly, and he couldn’t wait to get out so his feet could touch solid ground.
Harrison pulled up to the front of one of the newest high rise buildings in the neighborhood and the Bentley screeched to a halt. As the car jerked and Morton fell back against his seat, Harrison smiled and said, “Here we are. Home sweet home.”
“Can we just do one thing first?”
Harrison tilted his head sideways and stared at him. “What?”
“Can we go back to East 44th Street and get my stomach. I think I lost it somewhere near Lexington. Seriously, dude. You need to slow down a little.”
“You sound like my manager.”
“Good,” Morton said. “Someone needs to tell you.”
Harrison opened the door and said, “”C’mon. Let’s go up and order.” Then he unfolded from the car, handed the keys to a doorman with a tip. He was the only one who didn’t seem to notice or care that it was a $50 bill.
The lobby of Harrison’s building reminded Morton of hundreds of other lobbies he’d seen in New York. Cold, stark gray marble floors, walls of glass mixed with wood and stone. Grey mid-century modern furniture of the most generic kind that seemed to suggest the designer hadn’t been too worried about clich├ęs. The only thing different about this monochromatic grey lobby was there were no people in sight and it was about 10 times larger than most other lobbies.
They took an elevator to the top floor where Harrison said he owned a penthouse. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, they both stepped into the front hall of Harrison’s apartment.  The walls were all white and the floors were that light high gloss polished concrete that seemed so popular lately. They shined with such intensity he felt as if he were walking on water. And when he glanced down he actually could see his reflection.
“So this is home?” Morton asked, as Harrison led him to the right.
“I’m still working on it,” he said. “I haven’t had time to do much. I’m always working on music.”
Morton noticed there were still a few unopened boxes in the hall, and there didn’t seem to be much furniture either. They passed what appeared to be a formal living room with a long black leather sofa and a black baby grand piano. There were two modern lamps with square shades resting on the floor in front of a marble fireplace not far from a few more unopened boxes. The room across from that appeared to be the dining room, but without a table and chairs, and just one massive crystal chandelier suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the room. As magnificent as this place was, it lacked something fundamental that Morton couldn’t quite figure out yet, and it left him feeling a little glum in spite of how much he liked Harrison. Even worse, with the white mini-dress and the white stilettos he wore, he blended into it all much to well for his own comfort.
Harrison led them back to a massive kitchen area with an island that was larger than the bathroom in Morton’s apartment. It had a sparkling white stone top that went down each end like a waterfall, and a pale grey base that matched the polished concrete floors and the other cabinets against the wall. The appliances were all those high end stainless steel affairs Morton had seen in magazines, with European names he couldn’t pronounce. And when he looked up at the ceiling and noticed how high it was, he wondered who got up there to clean it.
The great room was open to the kitchen, with one long wall of glass that led to a substantial terrace and a fireplace surrounded in white marble. The only piece of furniture in that room that commanded attention was a long, white grand piano . Harrison walked over to a glass coffee table in front of a white leather sofa to get a take-out menu. Morton laughed and said, “You still use take-out menus?”
Harrison sent him a look and said, “Yeah. We older people aren’t like you young ones who just order from an app on our phones. We still need to hold the menu in our hands.”
They hadn’t discussed the age difference yet. “You’re not that much older.”
He sent him another look and said, “We’ll see about that.”
Morton slowly walked over to where he was standing and he reached for the menu in his hand. As he took the menu, his fingers brushed against Harrison’s large hand and the menu fell to the floor. Harrison was speaking with that deep, smooth voice again, and his expression suggested he had a few vulnerabilities about his age, and the age difference between them. Morton wanted to make it clear that the least of his concerns was their ages, and he wanted to do this by showing him instead of telling him. He wanted Harrison to know this wasn’t about an older man going after a younger man. He felt the same attraction.



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