James Buchanan Gets Down & Silly with Me

Handsome, hard-drinkin', cigar-smokin', Harley ridin' James Buchanan sat down with me in the rose garden of her Pasadena home to answer my 10 silly questions over tea and crumpets. The world-renowned m/m erotica and romance writer didn't have to think twice about her answers. And she gives us all an exclusive sneak peak into her latest fictional outing, Inland Empire.

Listen:

1. If you could invite any famous person, dead or alive, for dinner, what would you eat?

Steaks…nice thick aged beef. Grilled out back – I prefer rare…but medium rare is good too. Add some of SG's homemade pickles (they will fry the inside of your nose with the peppers), tomatoes and basil from his garden served with fresh mozzarella and drizzled with a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Simple, fresh and really, really good.

Or sushi. 'Cause I adore sushi.

Reality check though, it would be whatever SG felt like making. He rarely lets me cook. Not because I'm not good at it (I'm a wonder at "what luck"—what luck, we got cold chicken, a handful of macaroni, three slices of cheese and a frozen block of spinach we got dinner), but because the "rule" in our house is "he who cooks washes dishes." Which I always honor…and then SG always comes back in the middle of the night and re-washes my dishes because I don't do it good enough.

No, we don't have a dishwasher.

2. Who do you think you are?

A hack. In a good way. I would far rather be a "hack" writer who sells books, than some "literati" whose stories are so absolutely incomprehensible that people claim they love them just so they don't look stupid to their friends. It's much better to be on a quarter of the nightstands in the Midwest than discussed in some chi-chi salon in Manhattan.

3. What’s your problem?

Not enough time in a day, week, month, year for all the plots running around my brain. Two spawn who constantly are asking, "can you?" while I'm in the middle of something else. Clients who expect too much. At 42 there's not enough Ibuprophen in the bottle to kick the pain of a hard day of yard work – at least not without developing stomach ulcers. Having a credit score in the 700's and the banks still want to yank my interest rate…okay, I'll stop before we hit pity party.

4. If you could have one wish, would you give it to me?

Depends on what you needed it for or how bad you needed it. If you're going to wish for a sausage on the end of some old woman's nose…nope I'm keeping it. But if you came up with a really good solution to AIDS – you know one of those wishes that wouldn't backfire. I'd give it to you. Or if you really needed it, you could have it.

5. Where you at?

Six feet under.

If not that, then smoking cigars while riding the Harley. Nothing beats a stretch of freeway, a set of twin heads and free afternoon. Okay, well maybe sex, but the spawn can't ride bitch for that.

6. If you had to choose only one vice, what would it be?

Can I tell you that my eyes bugged out of my head at that one. Really. ONE…only one???? Dear God, I'm dead! No espresso martinis? No yakking with you, and Tim Kelly and Jolie DuPre over craptastic Middle Eastern food? No Rice Crispies Treats? No See's Chocolate? No sex at 3am? No steak smothered in blue-cheese sauce? No riding the Harley around just to piss off the neighbors? AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

7. What’s your favorite brand of cereal?

The little voice in the back of my brain is whispering to give you something adult and healthy…and I'm ignoring it. Captain Crunch Peanut Butter, which is almost in a dead heat with Captain Crunch Crunchberries. Forget the spoon, forget the milk, heck who needs a bowl. I'll eat that crap right out of the box.

8. When you wake up in the morning, what celebrity do you most resemble?

Well, not a celebrity, but a TV character. Do you know Beakman…from Beakman's world? Mr. Wizard on crack. If you're not acquainted with him, here's the site. Geek that I am, I love to sit and watch it on Sundays with the Spawn. (For those who are curious why they are the spawn…it's, for me, a Goth thing. Children of Darkness – there are three stages: darklings – those who are unable to truly ambulate around, Demon Spawn [shortened to Spawn] from around ages 3 to 14 and finally Baby-Bats, those who are out testing their wings but not able to really fly on their own yet.)

9. Do you know your ass from a hole in the ground? And if so, how do you tell the difference?

Yes. And my very trusted beta reader made me delete the "how you know portions..."

10. Do you have anything you’d like to plug?

Does SG count? Snort! Okay, okay…more serious.

First my website...and my just released book, Inland Empire, Book 2 of the Taking the Odds series. Ebook from Torquere Press and paperback from MLR Press.

SYNOPSIS: Agent Nick O'Malley and Det. Brandon Carr are back. Nick heads to Riverside, California, center of the Inland Empire and Brandon's home turf. But every minute Nick's in Riverside threatens to out Brandon. When events embroil Nick in one of Brandon's investigations -- gang hits, prostitution, illegal gambling and human trafficking - can they survive both?

EXCERPT: It was always so good to hear Nicky’s laugh, deep and rich and all for Brandon. The cop drowned in the warm tones of it. Then Nicky sat up and twisted to lean over the end of the bed. He fumbled in the carryon for a moment and came up with a black plastic bag. “Look, I bought you something.” From the confines of the shopping bag, Nicky drew a stuffed dog. Carmel fur fluffed between his fingers. The floppy ears were black, matching the spot over its left eye.

A stuffed dog. His lover was presenting him with a toy and not the cool adult kind. It took a few moments for that fact to click into place. “Nicky, I’m almost thirty. I grew out of stuffed animals when I was, like, ten.”

“But it’s a Harley hound.” Nick bounced the stuffed dog on his knee. “Look he’s got the orange and black T-shirt with a bike on it. And little black riding chaps. He’s even got the logo on his little paw.”

Brandon wasn’t sure which was worse; the puppy eyes on the toy or the puppy eyes on Nick. “Okay, that’s just scary Nicky. I don’t know if that makes you too fem or too young to fuck anymore.”

“Jesus, Brandon, you’re always so serious.” Using one black ear as a fulcrum, Nick lobbed the dog. It landed, legs obscenely spread, across Brandon’s chest, head pointing toward his crotch. “Lighten up. Where’s your sense of humor? It’s just a stupid toy I found at this outlet store. I though it was funny. Let it live on your couch or something.” Waving toward the wall and pictures, Nicky continued, his tone sharp. “Shit, you could give it to Shayna as a reminder of her daddy if you wanted. I don’t care.”

Staring down his nose at the dog’ upturned tail, Brandon snorted. “Well at least it’s a gay dog. It’s already assumed the position.”