Thank you so much for coming today to support our very serious cause and have some fun at the same time. This is the Hop Against Homophobia and i'm Tara Lain. I write The Beautiful Boys of Romance. My novels focus on the loves of gay and bisexual men and even an occasional lesbian sneaks in there. Like many writers of gay romance, i'm a heterosexual woman married happily to the man of my dreams for many years. I was completely free to meet, fall in love with, and marry my guy and i can't imagine why any other person should not be allowed to do the same.
When i was a very young woman, i barely knew what gay was but i discovered that two of my dearest friends were gay. One of them, my best pal from high school who took me to the senior prom when i was a sophomore, went into the military and became a male nurse. Talk about hotbeds of homophobia! I think back now and shudder at the torture his life must have been hiding who he was from everyone around him. I used to go to his military balls with him so he would have a "girlfriend". He finally met the man of his dreams but, of course, he had to hide that too. I cry now realizing how little i knew then. My friend died from cancer and i miss him so much.
The other gay man in my young life was my brother's best friend. He was like something out of one of our novels -- handsome, athletic, a man of few words. I had a terrible crush on him although he was a few years younger than i. After high school, he married. He did all the things that a man from his blue collar, Pennsylvania upbringing was expected to do. I never knew when he discovered he was gay. But years later he came to California to visit my mom and me bringing his beautiful, flamboyant, fashionista boyfriend. I wish i had really talked to him about what his life had been like. But i was too "polite" and he was, after all, a man of few words.
Today, i'm not too polite. Today, i'm honored to get to write about gay men and women who get their happy ever after -- just like i did.
- A $10 gift card to Amazon
- A copy of Volley Balls or Fire Balls (if you haven't already read them)
Here's what you have to do to win:
- Leave a comment
- Leave your email address
- I'd love it if you would follow this blog
- Like the Hop Against Homophobia Facebook Page
Now, the next thing to do is go HERE to check out the list of hundreds of authors and publishers who are supporting this Hop. Go visit them ALL!
Below, i posted a scene from my LGBT novel, Fire Balls. This scene shows a perfect response to homophobia! Thank you again for visiting!
Fire Balls by Tara Lain -- MM Contemporary
Rodney Mansfield is tiny, flamboyant and, oh yeah, a black belt in karate. He is also one of southern California’s greatest artists. Too bad the work of art he really wants is firefighter, Hunter Fallon. But the gorgeous “straight gay” guy could never want the Runtback of Notre Dame, so when Rodney’s handsome, surfer friend, Jerry, develops an unexpected passion for the beautiful firefighter, Rodney breaks his own heart by helping Jerry land his man. And then Rod makes it worse by embarrassing Hunter when he protects him from a firehouse bully. Hunter hates gay guys like Rodney – doesn’t he? Then why can’t he get the powerful pipsqueak’s face out of his mind… and cock out of his ass? And why does he risk his job and his life to rescue Rod from a burning building? Isn’t it time for him to admit he’s not an alpha male after all and that he is the property of the artist?
Jerry was coming across the lawn pushing a man in a wheel chair, an older guy with a husky upper body. He looked tall though his legs appeared shrunken. Handsome, though. Hunter walked behind with a beautiful woman, probably in her late forties, who looked so much like Hunter she had to be his mother.
So this was the fabled father for whom Hunter lived his life. Shit.
Jerry bounced up breathlessly, pushing the chair.
“You should have gone around the lawn, Jerry darling. That must have been a bumpy ride.” Might as well beard the tiger in his den. He stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Roman.”
“Hey, Roman, this is Matt Fallon. Hunter’s dad.” Jerry stepped back. “I’m gonna go get us some Cokes, OK? Then I’ll show you my pictures.”
Mrs. Fallon smiled absently. “Yes, dear.”
The older man gave Rodney an appraising look, but shook hands firmly. “Matt Fallon.”
“Delighted to meet you. And you must be Mrs. Fallon.” Again he extended his hand. Yeah, he knew she should offer first, but he and Emily Post were only kissing cousins.
She took his hand but kept gazing past him. “Hello.” She shook. “Hunter, that’s you,” she whispered.
Hunter stared at the painting like he had seen a rattlesnake. “I didn’t know you were going to show it here. Dammit, Rodney. I wouldn’t have come, and I certainly wouldn’t have brought my parents.”
Well, hell. “I didn’t know you were going to be here, Hunter. And if you’re so damned ashamed of it, why the hell did you pose in the first place?”
The high cheekbones colored. “I didn’t know it would be so—”
“Beautiful,” Hunter’s mom whispered, smiling. “Roman, it’s simply gorgeous. I can’t begin to tell you how extraordinary I think it is.”
Matt Fallon gazed at the painting with an unreadable expression.
“I knew that damned picture looked familiar. Moonlighting for a little porno, Fallon? Make some movies too?” The snarky voice came from behind the Fallons.
Rod looked. Ah. The asshole from the fire station.
Hunter spun, his face flaming. “Leave it, Mick.”
“Leave what, fag? Your cock? It’s all over the place.”
Hunter’s parents had turned to stare at the big blond with the pugnacious jaw. The idiot was bad news. Rod couldn’t stand him and they hadn’t even met.
Mrs. Fallon’s eyes were wide, and Mr. Fallon appeared confused. “Excuse me, young man. I thought you were a firefighter. I saw you at the station.”
“Yeah, I’m a firefighter. But I joined up when there were just real men on the force. Not homo queers.” That fucking guy didn’t seem to respect the fact that the man was in a wheelchair or that there were women present. The pissant. OK, bloodshot eyes, but the guy wasn’t drunk enough to justify being this big a reptile.
The drunken ass stepped closer to the painting. “I always figured you had some profession you were better suited for than firefighting. And here it is. Porno model.”
Hunter’s eyes shifted from his abuser to his parents and back. His fists clenched; he looked like he wanted to hit the guy but didn’t want to make a show in front of a crowd.
OK, my turn. Rod stepped past Mr. Fallon’s wheelchair and looked up at the drunken idiot. “This is my space and you’re not welcome in it. Go elsewhere, darling, or I’ll ask the guards to remove you.”
The man called Mick looked like he had seen something repulsive. “And what have we here? Is this your costar in the porno movies, Hunnnn-ter?”
The statement was a little too close to home, which made him madder. “Please leave!”
The big idiot stepped toward Rod, hands balled into fists. “Suck my cock!”
OK, he’d had enough. Deep breath. Mawashi geri. One upper roundhouse kick. Tobi geri. One jumping kick. The satisfying connection of foot to softening tissue. Wap! Oof.
The asshole wavered, his head cocked to the side, then went down like an axed tree. Lookie loos scattered behind him. Mrs. Fallon and her husband stared open-mouthed.
Quick and efficient. Rod took a deep breath. “Sorry, darlings. I so hate violence.”
Two security guards rushed up. The smaller man, Hank, asked, “What happened, Roman?”
“Sorry to make a scene, dear. He was more obnoxious than a body could bear.” People around nodded and murmured in agreement. “Will you get him out of here and call the police, please? I don’t know what they’ll do since he’s a firefighter and I’m a fag, but I’ll file a complaint if necessary.”