Welcome Sedonia Guillone - Acts of Passion
A big welcome to Sedonia Guillone today as part of her blog tour with Creative Minds Promotions for her new release Acts of Passion.
Can you tell us a bit about yourself and your writing?
I’m 46. Jewish. I love pizza and Thai food. I’ve been in a wonderful relationship with my boyfriend for the past 20 years and he is the inspiration for all my books, no matter the genre. I write mostly m/m romances but I have a backlist of m/f titles as well. I also have written a YA historical novel titled, I Was Hannah under my other pen name, Sedonia Jacobs.
Can you tell us about your new release? What inspired you to write it?
My new release is actually a re-release. Acts of Passion first came out in 2010 at Ellora’s Cave. However, my editor at the time had talked me into deleting a scene that I felt was very important. I don’t know why I gave in, but I always regretted it and promised myself that I would get the book back and put that scene right back in which is what I did.
The book was inspired by the need to tell Michael di Santo’s story and get him his HEA with a hunky loving man. Michael had broken up with his first and only other serious love, Toshi Genjin (hero of His Beautiful Samurai, Ai Press) years back and never got over it. I realized that I didn’t want Michael to suffer anymore and needed to give him a happy ending too. Hence, Acts of Passion.
How did you come up with the title?
The title kind of bubbled up organically from the plotline itself. It has several meanings. It refers to the crime of murder committed which has at its deepest base, passion. Then you have the budding romance between Dr. Michael di Santo and homicide detective Jack Cade who are finding passion between them. It seemed like the right title and I hope others find it so as well.
What was the hardest part of writing your book?
The hardest part of writing this book in particular was constructing the mystery. That is a whole other thing in itself. It’s a meticulous process of sending out threads of ‘what if’ and finding characters who could look like the guilty ones and aren’t while others look not guilty but are. There was also the issue of police procedure, which is quite involved and needs a lot of research and careful detail. My editor suggested that I speak with an actual homicide detective and I was really nervous about doing that. I was used to researching through books and articles, photos, etc. Since the story is set in Boston, I called the Boston Police Department. Their media relations office put me in touch with a sergeant detective in homicide and we had several conversations. He is really great and we developed a rapport so whenever I have questions about police procedure, I can go to him. Once I got over that hurdle and the hurdles of constructing the mystery, things went more smoothly.
If you had access to a time machine just once, is there anything you'd go back and change? Either on a personal level or an historical event?
Immediately what comes to mind when you ask that question is, I would be very tempted to go back and kill Hitler. If I wasn’t able to do that, then I would probably have tried to do something to prevent the African slave trade. Either way, millions of souls suffered and perished needlessly because of others’ greed and insanity. I would like to think that by using the time machine I could have prevented it. Of course there are other great tragedies I would like to have prevented with a time machine, but sadly, there are just too many to name them all.
What are you working on at present? Would you like to share a snippet?
Currently I am working on another book in my White Tigers series, which by the way are all available to read on Kindle Unlimited - FREE for subscribers).
Just to give a quick background to show the degrees of separation from Acts of Passion: In Acts of Passion, Michael thinks a lot about his first serious relationship. Back when he was a grad student at Berkley, he met Toshi Genjin who was doing his undergrad there but had to go back to Tokyo after graduation. Michael has never really gotten over that loss. Toshi is one of the romantic heroes of His Beautiful Samurai and Beautiful Samurai, White Tiger (Ai Press).
In Beautiful Samurai, White Tiger, Toshi and his new lover, John Holmes, search for a missing young man in the sensual White Tiger, a men’s love hotel. There is a cast of hot characters who live and work in this place. Each man, loving and sensuous, had his own story to tell and the White Tigers series was born, begun with a title my boyfriend had suggested to me: Men of Phuket. (You see how a writer’s mind can work, lol) That became Men of Phuket: Tongue-Thai’d. After that book, I went back to the beginning and started with Men of Tokyo: Sudden Bliss.
More recently I wrote the pre-quel, Men of Tokyo: Forbidden Cravings, which is actually a twincest m/m/ Sooo, all that said, anyone who has read Men of Tokyo: Sudden Heat, may remember that part of the story takes place in Shanghai where the White Tiger sect originated (adapted from the Taoist White Tigress practices of using qi to find enlightenment that also originated in China centuries earlier)
In Sudden Heat, there are two characters in the Shanghai location, Jin and Wu Li. They have a rocky relationship in the book when their blooming romance was disrupted by circumstances. I recently began writing Men of Shanghai: Golden Dragon to recount the beginnings and early challenges of their romance. I would love to share a snippet with you. Since I am in the early stages, this is the moment they first meet, on a rainy night (thank you for reading!):
(unedited - may differ slightly from final version)
Jin pressed his hands onto the countertop, closed his eyes and took yet another deep breath. If he continued on this way, that lone couple at the corner table, nursing their pot of green tea would begin to notice. He took an extra moment to collect himself. Rainy days often had this effect on him. They always reminded him of Quan Chan. Of the sweetness of first love. The exquisite moments they’d spent lying in each other’s arms, listening to the rain. Jin had never known greater pleasure.
Briefly he closed his eyes, savoring an image. It would disappear in seconds. The horrid memories always tore away the sweet ones. Bam. The way he’d broken Quan Chan’s heart. The look on the other man’s vulnerable, gentle, handsome face. Quan Chan had especially kind, deep eyes, sloping upward under his thick sculpted eyebrows. Quan Chan looked like a movie star, he was so handsome, like he’d stepped off a silver screen in Hong Kong. An involuntary shudder wracked him. Now that Japanese gangster in Tokyo had Quan Chan’s hot, sensuous body underneath his whenever he wanted it. Jin wanted to blame that guy for coming here and seducing Quan Chan with his commanding voice, athletes build and body full of tattoos, but Quan Chan had the most loyal heart of anyone. He’d been suffering heartache and loneliness in the thirteen or so years since Jin had laid down the rules about impersonal love and thrown the other man out of his bed. Jin had no one else to blame for adding that cruel act onto the roster of others he had committed in his life.
Well, maybe one person. The one person in his entire life after Mao himself that he couldn’t afford to hate and resent…
Jin repacked the delicate tea leaves he’d been blending. He’d caught himself making the special mixture of various Oolongs that he used to make for Quan Chan whenever the younger man felt feverish. No one here had ever responded to that blend the way Quan Chan had, experiencing its full healing power as a manifestation of true love, as if Kwan Yin, the goddess of compassion herself had guided Jin’s hands in the preparation. Or maybe it had been his own love that had done it. Quan Chan had worshiped him, saw the heavens in his face. And when he’d looked into Quan Chan’s eyes and saw that devotion reflected back at him, Jin had felt like an actual decent human being and not the vile Red Guard he’d once been under Mao. After hurting the one person in the world he should never have hurt, Jin saw nothing else but that piece of shit Red Guard whenever he looked in the mirror.
“Good night.”
Jin looked up. The last two customers of the evening had stood, leaving payment and tip on the table. They were regulars. They never came for a massage or bath, but seemed to enjoy the cozy, non-judgmental atmosphere in which they could steal a few moments together, perhaps going back to their married lives once they left here. He smiled at them, a practiced smile that gave no hint at the ache inside him and gave a small bow. “Thank you. Please come back.”
They nodded acknowledgements and went to the door. Jin watched them go through and the taller man open an umbrella to protect his companion from the cords of rain. He picked up a tray to clear off that table. Just as the bells jingled in the wake of the closing door, Jin saw a figure rush under the eaves and stand, huddled.
Something about the thin form drew Jin’s attention. Instead of going about his business of wiping the tables and putting the chairs on their surfaces in order to sweep and mop, he watched. The visitor, a young man with long hair tied back at his nape, pulled something out of his pants pocket, a bean paste bun by the look of it, and proceeded to devour it like a hungry dog with a scrap.
Jin came out from behind the counter, his gaze fixed on the stranger. He approached the door and stopped again. The young man, his t-shirt and loose beige pants all rain-soaked, pushed the last bite of the bun into his mouth, chewing vigorously. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and then peered through the window.
Their gazes met.
The youth, his age hard to distinguish at this distance, started, as if Jin had stuck him with a cattle prod. Jin expected him to turn and leave, but he didn’t. He just continued to stare, as if Jin were in a fascinating film on a screen.
Jin’s heart jumped. He recognized that look. Quan Chan had worn a similar look the day he’d showed up here, also peering through the glass as if to look longingly on warmth and welcome that would never be his. Lifting his hand, Jin gestured to him to come in.
The young man’s large eyes widened. He remained fixed, as if seeing the film he was watching had begun to speak to him and include him in the action. He looked around, behind him.
Seeing no one else the person inside could be addressing, his expression showed recognition that Jin was gesturing to him.
Jin closed the small distance between himself and the door and pulled it open. “Come in and get dry,” he said.
Those large eyes looked into his. Up close, the face they stared out from was exquisite. Skin pale and smooth, cheekbones high, lips sensuously shaped. The kid could be a model or something. The glow of beauty he radiated, even in his raggedly clothed, drowned rat state was like a force in and of itself. “I don’t have any money.” His voice, as smooth and clear as his face, also radiated beauty. Beauty mixed with hopelessness.
Jin’s heart squeezed. As if he didn’t already know the kid didn’t have any money. “You don’t need money. Just come in and get dry.”
The young man nodded. “Thanks.” He passed by Jin and went in.
Jin locked the door behind him, turned the sign to “Closed” and collected the money, empty cups and pot. “I was about to make some tea for myself,” he said, setting down the tray behind the counter. “There is plenty for two.”
“Okay. Yes, please.”
The youth had manners. Someone had raised him right. From the look of him, he came from farmers outside of Shanghai. Jin had met plenty of folks like that back in the days of Mao when kids of his middle class were sent out to the peasants to learn farming. They had a…courteous way about them that was unmistakable, as if all city people were smarter and slicker than they and deserved their deference.
Jin reached under the counter and grabbed a couple of dry dishtowels which he handed to his new guest. “Here,” he said, “You can dry off a bit.” He flicked off the switch to the ceiling fans so that the potentially chilling breeze would cease.
Just then, Ping came out from the kitchen. Ping, sometimes known affectionately among their group as Beautiful Ping, had once actually been a model. In spite of his success, his own personal hard knocks had brought him to the White Tiger Teahouse more than five years earlier and his skills in the kitchen had provided an invaluable service along with his kind-hearted friendship. Though Ping now shaved his hair close to the scalp as per their in house custom, his blend of ruggedness and refinement was no less striking. Ping’s gaze alighted on the youth. He paused. “We have a guest, I see.” He gave the kid a courteous bow. “I’m Ping. You are?”
The young man cleared his throat, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men as if they might be planning to trap him. “Wu Li.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“I was just making us some tea,” Jin said, grateful for Ping’s warmth. Wu Li so obviously needed warmth. “Would you like some, Ping?”
“No, thank you. I have a lot to do in back. But I do have plenty of buns left over from this afternoon. I’ll bring them out for you.”
Jin saw Wu Li’s tongue dart across his lips at the mention of the food. Poor kid. “That’s perfect. I was about to go back there and ask you for some, actually.”
Ping smiled and bowed again. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Jin gestured to one of the tables. “Have a seat.”
Wu Li looked between him and the proffered table a few times, as if deciding whether or not accepting all this hospitality would be rude. The youth’s hunger and need obviously won out. In the next moment, he pulled back a chair and dropped into it.
Jin went back behind the counter to prepare the pot. Quan Chan’s blend still sat on the counter. Jin took the small container and put some fingerfuls into a gray and blue earthenware pot. The one he’d always used expressly for this blend.
Do you get emails asking why characters didn’t get together and whether you’re going to write more about them?
I have gotten questions from readers to that effect. One that stands out in my mind was a character from Beautiful Samurai, White Tiger. This reader found him intriguing even though he was supposed to be someone who is not a character you’d want to see more of. Something about this guy struck a note with her and she wrote to me asking if I would ever write a romance about him. I have to admit that while I was flattered she enjoyed the book so much and wanted to read more about one of the characters I’d created, I didn’t like this guy and so I found it difficult even to imagine what I would write about him. Nothing would come to mind.
However, I did get emails from readers of the White Tigers series who asked about the sexy twins, Mod and Tatou, and would I ever tell their story. In that case, YES I definitely loved these guys and eventually wrote Men of Tokyo: Forbidden Cravings. Which, like I mentioned elsewhere, is on Kindle Unlimited.
Are you a cat person or a dog person? Can you tell us about your pets?
Do you have a few hours to listen to me talk about my cat, Molly? Lol. Just kidding. I will keep it shorter than that. I have hundreds of photos I’ve taken of her. I had a cat, Squeaky who was wonderful but she got ill and died several years ago. After a year or so, I realized how much I missed having a little animal to care for. I began looking to adopt a dog or cat (I love both). The process wasn’t going so well. I found the adoption agencies, while rightfully careful, were actually making adoption incredibly difficult. My boyfriend said to me, “Just let it go, don’t worry about it. When the time is right, we’ll get an animal.” I did as he suggested and turned it over.
Well, not even two weeks later, he was walking in the neighbourhood and saw a garage open of one of our neighbors who had a huge kennel cage with 5 little kittens in it, playing. It turns out a feral cat in the neighbourhood had had the litter a few weeks earlier and another neighbour found them in her bushes and brought them to Sandy who she knew would trap the mother, spay and release her and care for the kittens until they could be adopted. Of course, I went over to look at them and immediately agreed to adopt one. We asked Sandy to pick which kitten she thought would be best for us because we needed an animal that was quiet and sweet. She chose the one kitten of the litter of five who spent a lot of time under a little pink rug in the kennel while the others were playing. That was Molly. Once we brought her home, it’s been love and hugs ever since.
Molly is incredibly smart and sweet. Because she’s been handled by humans her whole life, she is very people oriented and cuddly. Every night she loves to nurse on my sweater and waits for me to put it on and sit down so she can have her cuddle while my boyfriend gives her belly rubs. It’s precious. She loves to play with the feather stick and be chased around and kissed. She has entire conversations with my boyfriend. He asks her questions and she answers in her funny cat way of communicating. Anyway, I’d better stop here, otherwise I will go on and on. lol
Are there big events in your life that affect your writing?
Yes. The loss of a loved one years ago had a deep impact on me and I wrote out many of my feelings about it in Men of Tokyo: Sudden Heat. I also lost a friend to AIDS years ago and miss him so much. I often incorporate my feelings about this loss in my stories.
TITLE: Acts of Passion
AUTHOR: Sedonia Guillone
COVER ARTIST: Louca Matheo
LENGTH: 186 Pages
GENRE: LGBT; Gay Romance; Mystery and Detective; Romantic Suspense
RELEASE DATE: January 15, 2016
BLURB: When a man is found in his apartment, appearing to have committed hara kiri with a samurai sword, Boston Homicide Detective Jack Cade suspects more is going on than what it appears. The department’s criminal profiler has left and a new guy is taking his place. At first, Cade is skeptical of Dr. Michael Di Santo. Di Santo seems so absent-minded and too neurotic to be effective. But he is brilliant and hot and Cade finds himself falling hard and fast, both in lust and in love. The attraction is mutual, although Michael's past demons haunt him, keeping him from getting too close. Together, they begin to unravel Michael's emotional knots even as they close in on a killer, another brilliant, wily person whose sights are now set on Michael.
Studying the front area of the building, he wandered down the flower box lined stone walk of the apartment building and turned to face it. Crime lab workers and patrol officers moved around on either side of the yellow crime tape, keeping the building cordoned off until Jack gave instructions to clear out and retain only the apartment as the crime scene.
Jack stepped aside to let someone go past him and bump! Smacked into something.
He turned. “Excuse me, I’m-” Or rather, he’d bumped into someone.
The man was adjusting the glasses Jack had apparently knocked off his face. “You’re in a crime scene,” Jack said.
“Yes, I know.” Almond-shaped brown eyes seemed to study Jack from behind round lenses. He looked Asian, yet sort of…not Asian at the same time. His dark brown hair was styled in a conventional way, parted on the side in short layers. The crumpled navy suit he wore, complete with diagonally striped tie against a light blue dress shirt made him appear as if his mother had dressed him for a spelling bee at school even though he was probably about Jack’s age. Forty.
Jack blinked. He was taking absolutely too long to find out who this man was. Then light dawned. Of course. “Dr. Di Santo?”
“Detective Cade?”
“That’s me. Hope I didn’t break your glasses.”
Di Santo touched them on each side as if to check. “No, they’re fine.”
Jack watched the man’s hands as he gingerly adjusted the frames. Nicely shaped fingers. Clean, trimmed nails. “Sorry I bumped you that way.”
“No problem.” Di Santo cleared his throat. “I hope I can be of help to you.”
Jack started. “Me too. This way.” He led Di Santo into the building and up to the apartment. “As I told you on the phone, I’m not so sure this was a suicide.” He let Di Santo precede him into the apartment and followed him, observing the way the slim man took in the surroundings on his way over to the victim.
Jack explained his suspicions and then let the man work. For what seemed a long time, Di Santo wandered about then stood in the center of the room, his gaze on the coffee table. His hand disappeared into his jacket pocket and pulled something out, which he popped into his mouth.
Jack watched him. Watched the man’s cheek bulge on the side while he sucked on whatever it was in his mouth, his gaze intent on the coffee table and victim. He then approached Jack and Jack heard the click of hard candy against the guy’s teeth. Finally Di Santo turned and knelt by the body.
Jack saw the professor’s eyes widen, especially on the hilt of the knife. “What is it?”
Di Santo seemed to ignore his question, staring at the knife. “Were his hands on the hilt of the knife or over his face when you found him?”
“Over his face.”
“Okay. Please open the robe so I can see the wound,” he said to Murphy.
Murphy did as he asked and Di Santo gazed for what seemed five straight minutes at the vicious cross-shaped cut in the centre of the wound.
“Jumonji giri,” he said, nearly in a whisper.
“What?” Jack looked between the knife wound and Di Santo.
The hot-yet-nerdy man was still staring down, seeming to ignore him. The candy in his mouth clicked several times against his teeth.
“Dr. Di Santo?”
Michael Di Santo looked up, his eyes seemingly far away yet intent at the same time. “What kind of movies did this man watch?”
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Award-winning, multi-published author of erotic romance, Sedonia Guillone spends her days writing deliciously naughty romances-when she’s not cuddling with the man she loves or watching kung fu and samurai films and eating chocolate.
Sedonia welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.sedoniaguillone.com.
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Can you tell us a bit about yourself and your writing?
I’m 46. Jewish. I love pizza and Thai food. I’ve been in a wonderful relationship with my boyfriend for the past 20 years and he is the inspiration for all my books, no matter the genre. I write mostly m/m romances but I have a backlist of m/f titles as well. I also have written a YA historical novel titled, I Was Hannah under my other pen name, Sedonia Jacobs.
Can you tell us about your new release? What inspired you to write it?
My new release is actually a re-release. Acts of Passion first came out in 2010 at Ellora’s Cave. However, my editor at the time had talked me into deleting a scene that I felt was very important. I don’t know why I gave in, but I always regretted it and promised myself that I would get the book back and put that scene right back in which is what I did.
The book was inspired by the need to tell Michael di Santo’s story and get him his HEA with a hunky loving man. Michael had broken up with his first and only other serious love, Toshi Genjin (hero of His Beautiful Samurai, Ai Press) years back and never got over it. I realized that I didn’t want Michael to suffer anymore and needed to give him a happy ending too. Hence, Acts of Passion.
How did you come up with the title?
The title kind of bubbled up organically from the plotline itself. It has several meanings. It refers to the crime of murder committed which has at its deepest base, passion. Then you have the budding romance between Dr. Michael di Santo and homicide detective Jack Cade who are finding passion between them. It seemed like the right title and I hope others find it so as well.
What was the hardest part of writing your book?
The hardest part of writing this book in particular was constructing the mystery. That is a whole other thing in itself. It’s a meticulous process of sending out threads of ‘what if’ and finding characters who could look like the guilty ones and aren’t while others look not guilty but are. There was also the issue of police procedure, which is quite involved and needs a lot of research and careful detail. My editor suggested that I speak with an actual homicide detective and I was really nervous about doing that. I was used to researching through books and articles, photos, etc. Since the story is set in Boston, I called the Boston Police Department. Their media relations office put me in touch with a sergeant detective in homicide and we had several conversations. He is really great and we developed a rapport so whenever I have questions about police procedure, I can go to him. Once I got over that hurdle and the hurdles of constructing the mystery, things went more smoothly.
If you had access to a time machine just once, is there anything you'd go back and change? Either on a personal level or an historical event?
Immediately what comes to mind when you ask that question is, I would be very tempted to go back and kill Hitler. If I wasn’t able to do that, then I would probably have tried to do something to prevent the African slave trade. Either way, millions of souls suffered and perished needlessly because of others’ greed and insanity. I would like to think that by using the time machine I could have prevented it. Of course there are other great tragedies I would like to have prevented with a time machine, but sadly, there are just too many to name them all.
What are you working on at present? Would you like to share a snippet?
Currently I am working on another book in my White Tigers series, which by the way are all available to read on Kindle Unlimited - FREE for subscribers).
Just to give a quick background to show the degrees of separation from Acts of Passion: In Acts of Passion, Michael thinks a lot about his first serious relationship. Back when he was a grad student at Berkley, he met Toshi Genjin who was doing his undergrad there but had to go back to Tokyo after graduation. Michael has never really gotten over that loss. Toshi is one of the romantic heroes of His Beautiful Samurai and Beautiful Samurai, White Tiger (Ai Press).
In Beautiful Samurai, White Tiger, Toshi and his new lover, John Holmes, search for a missing young man in the sensual White Tiger, a men’s love hotel. There is a cast of hot characters who live and work in this place. Each man, loving and sensuous, had his own story to tell and the White Tigers series was born, begun with a title my boyfriend had suggested to me: Men of Phuket. (You see how a writer’s mind can work, lol) That became Men of Phuket: Tongue-Thai’d. After that book, I went back to the beginning and started with Men of Tokyo: Sudden Bliss.
More recently I wrote the pre-quel, Men of Tokyo: Forbidden Cravings, which is actually a twincest m/m/ Sooo, all that said, anyone who has read Men of Tokyo: Sudden Heat, may remember that part of the story takes place in Shanghai where the White Tiger sect originated (adapted from the Taoist White Tigress practices of using qi to find enlightenment that also originated in China centuries earlier)
In Sudden Heat, there are two characters in the Shanghai location, Jin and Wu Li. They have a rocky relationship in the book when their blooming romance was disrupted by circumstances. I recently began writing Men of Shanghai: Golden Dragon to recount the beginnings and early challenges of their romance. I would love to share a snippet with you. Since I am in the early stages, this is the moment they first meet, on a rainy night (thank you for reading!):
(unedited - may differ slightly from final version)
Jin pressed his hands onto the countertop, closed his eyes and took yet another deep breath. If he continued on this way, that lone couple at the corner table, nursing their pot of green tea would begin to notice. He took an extra moment to collect himself. Rainy days often had this effect on him. They always reminded him of Quan Chan. Of the sweetness of first love. The exquisite moments they’d spent lying in each other’s arms, listening to the rain. Jin had never known greater pleasure.
Briefly he closed his eyes, savoring an image. It would disappear in seconds. The horrid memories always tore away the sweet ones. Bam. The way he’d broken Quan Chan’s heart. The look on the other man’s vulnerable, gentle, handsome face. Quan Chan had especially kind, deep eyes, sloping upward under his thick sculpted eyebrows. Quan Chan looked like a movie star, he was so handsome, like he’d stepped off a silver screen in Hong Kong. An involuntary shudder wracked him. Now that Japanese gangster in Tokyo had Quan Chan’s hot, sensuous body underneath his whenever he wanted it. Jin wanted to blame that guy for coming here and seducing Quan Chan with his commanding voice, athletes build and body full of tattoos, but Quan Chan had the most loyal heart of anyone. He’d been suffering heartache and loneliness in the thirteen or so years since Jin had laid down the rules about impersonal love and thrown the other man out of his bed. Jin had no one else to blame for adding that cruel act onto the roster of others he had committed in his life.
Well, maybe one person. The one person in his entire life after Mao himself that he couldn’t afford to hate and resent…
Jin repacked the delicate tea leaves he’d been blending. He’d caught himself making the special mixture of various Oolongs that he used to make for Quan Chan whenever the younger man felt feverish. No one here had ever responded to that blend the way Quan Chan had, experiencing its full healing power as a manifestation of true love, as if Kwan Yin, the goddess of compassion herself had guided Jin’s hands in the preparation. Or maybe it had been his own love that had done it. Quan Chan had worshiped him, saw the heavens in his face. And when he’d looked into Quan Chan’s eyes and saw that devotion reflected back at him, Jin had felt like an actual decent human being and not the vile Red Guard he’d once been under Mao. After hurting the one person in the world he should never have hurt, Jin saw nothing else but that piece of shit Red Guard whenever he looked in the mirror.
“Good night.”
Jin looked up. The last two customers of the evening had stood, leaving payment and tip on the table. They were regulars. They never came for a massage or bath, but seemed to enjoy the cozy, non-judgmental atmosphere in which they could steal a few moments together, perhaps going back to their married lives once they left here. He smiled at them, a practiced smile that gave no hint at the ache inside him and gave a small bow. “Thank you. Please come back.”
They nodded acknowledgements and went to the door. Jin watched them go through and the taller man open an umbrella to protect his companion from the cords of rain. He picked up a tray to clear off that table. Just as the bells jingled in the wake of the closing door, Jin saw a figure rush under the eaves and stand, huddled.
Something about the thin form drew Jin’s attention. Instead of going about his business of wiping the tables and putting the chairs on their surfaces in order to sweep and mop, he watched. The visitor, a young man with long hair tied back at his nape, pulled something out of his pants pocket, a bean paste bun by the look of it, and proceeded to devour it like a hungry dog with a scrap.
Jin came out from behind the counter, his gaze fixed on the stranger. He approached the door and stopped again. The young man, his t-shirt and loose beige pants all rain-soaked, pushed the last bite of the bun into his mouth, chewing vigorously. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and then peered through the window.
Their gazes met.
The youth, his age hard to distinguish at this distance, started, as if Jin had stuck him with a cattle prod. Jin expected him to turn and leave, but he didn’t. He just continued to stare, as if Jin were in a fascinating film on a screen.
Jin’s heart jumped. He recognized that look. Quan Chan had worn a similar look the day he’d showed up here, also peering through the glass as if to look longingly on warmth and welcome that would never be his. Lifting his hand, Jin gestured to him to come in.
The young man’s large eyes widened. He remained fixed, as if seeing the film he was watching had begun to speak to him and include him in the action. He looked around, behind him.
Seeing no one else the person inside could be addressing, his expression showed recognition that Jin was gesturing to him.
Jin closed the small distance between himself and the door and pulled it open. “Come in and get dry,” he said.
Those large eyes looked into his. Up close, the face they stared out from was exquisite. Skin pale and smooth, cheekbones high, lips sensuously shaped. The kid could be a model or something. The glow of beauty he radiated, even in his raggedly clothed, drowned rat state was like a force in and of itself. “I don’t have any money.” His voice, as smooth and clear as his face, also radiated beauty. Beauty mixed with hopelessness.
Jin’s heart squeezed. As if he didn’t already know the kid didn’t have any money. “You don’t need money. Just come in and get dry.”
The young man nodded. “Thanks.” He passed by Jin and went in.
Jin locked the door behind him, turned the sign to “Closed” and collected the money, empty cups and pot. “I was about to make some tea for myself,” he said, setting down the tray behind the counter. “There is plenty for two.”
“Okay. Yes, please.”
The youth had manners. Someone had raised him right. From the look of him, he came from farmers outside of Shanghai. Jin had met plenty of folks like that back in the days of Mao when kids of his middle class were sent out to the peasants to learn farming. They had a…courteous way about them that was unmistakable, as if all city people were smarter and slicker than they and deserved their deference.
Jin reached under the counter and grabbed a couple of dry dishtowels which he handed to his new guest. “Here,” he said, “You can dry off a bit.” He flicked off the switch to the ceiling fans so that the potentially chilling breeze would cease.
Just then, Ping came out from the kitchen. Ping, sometimes known affectionately among their group as Beautiful Ping, had once actually been a model. In spite of his success, his own personal hard knocks had brought him to the White Tiger Teahouse more than five years earlier and his skills in the kitchen had provided an invaluable service along with his kind-hearted friendship. Though Ping now shaved his hair close to the scalp as per their in house custom, his blend of ruggedness and refinement was no less striking. Ping’s gaze alighted on the youth. He paused. “We have a guest, I see.” He gave the kid a courteous bow. “I’m Ping. You are?”
The young man cleared his throat, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men as if they might be planning to trap him. “Wu Li.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“I was just making us some tea,” Jin said, grateful for Ping’s warmth. Wu Li so obviously needed warmth. “Would you like some, Ping?”
“No, thank you. I have a lot to do in back. But I do have plenty of buns left over from this afternoon. I’ll bring them out for you.”
Jin saw Wu Li’s tongue dart across his lips at the mention of the food. Poor kid. “That’s perfect. I was about to go back there and ask you for some, actually.”
Ping smiled and bowed again. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Jin gestured to one of the tables. “Have a seat.”
Wu Li looked between him and the proffered table a few times, as if deciding whether or not accepting all this hospitality would be rude. The youth’s hunger and need obviously won out. In the next moment, he pulled back a chair and dropped into it.
Jin went back behind the counter to prepare the pot. Quan Chan’s blend still sat on the counter. Jin took the small container and put some fingerfuls into a gray and blue earthenware pot. The one he’d always used expressly for this blend.
Do you get emails asking why characters didn’t get together and whether you’re going to write more about them?
I have gotten questions from readers to that effect. One that stands out in my mind was a character from Beautiful Samurai, White Tiger. This reader found him intriguing even though he was supposed to be someone who is not a character you’d want to see more of. Something about this guy struck a note with her and she wrote to me asking if I would ever write a romance about him. I have to admit that while I was flattered she enjoyed the book so much and wanted to read more about one of the characters I’d created, I didn’t like this guy and so I found it difficult even to imagine what I would write about him. Nothing would come to mind.
However, I did get emails from readers of the White Tigers series who asked about the sexy twins, Mod and Tatou, and would I ever tell their story. In that case, YES I definitely loved these guys and eventually wrote Men of Tokyo: Forbidden Cravings. Which, like I mentioned elsewhere, is on Kindle Unlimited.
Are you a cat person or a dog person? Can you tell us about your pets?
Do you have a few hours to listen to me talk about my cat, Molly? Lol. Just kidding. I will keep it shorter than that. I have hundreds of photos I’ve taken of her. I had a cat, Squeaky who was wonderful but she got ill and died several years ago. After a year or so, I realized how much I missed having a little animal to care for. I began looking to adopt a dog or cat (I love both). The process wasn’t going so well. I found the adoption agencies, while rightfully careful, were actually making adoption incredibly difficult. My boyfriend said to me, “Just let it go, don’t worry about it. When the time is right, we’ll get an animal.” I did as he suggested and turned it over.
Well, not even two weeks later, he was walking in the neighbourhood and saw a garage open of one of our neighbors who had a huge kennel cage with 5 little kittens in it, playing. It turns out a feral cat in the neighbourhood had had the litter a few weeks earlier and another neighbour found them in her bushes and brought them to Sandy who she knew would trap the mother, spay and release her and care for the kittens until they could be adopted. Of course, I went over to look at them and immediately agreed to adopt one. We asked Sandy to pick which kitten she thought would be best for us because we needed an animal that was quiet and sweet. She chose the one kitten of the litter of five who spent a lot of time under a little pink rug in the kennel while the others were playing. That was Molly. Once we brought her home, it’s been love and hugs ever since.
Molly is incredibly smart and sweet. Because she’s been handled by humans her whole life, she is very people oriented and cuddly. Every night she loves to nurse on my sweater and waits for me to put it on and sit down so she can have her cuddle while my boyfriend gives her belly rubs. It’s precious. She loves to play with the feather stick and be chased around and kissed. She has entire conversations with my boyfriend. He asks her questions and she answers in her funny cat way of communicating. Anyway, I’d better stop here, otherwise I will go on and on. lol
Are there big events in your life that affect your writing?
Yes. The loss of a loved one years ago had a deep impact on me and I wrote out many of my feelings about it in Men of Tokyo: Sudden Heat. I also lost a friend to AIDS years ago and miss him so much. I often incorporate my feelings about this loss in my stories.
TITLE: Acts of Passion
AUTHOR: Sedonia Guillone
COVER ARTIST: Louca Matheo
LENGTH: 186 Pages
GENRE: LGBT; Gay Romance; Mystery and Detective; Romantic Suspense
RELEASE DATE: January 15, 2016
BLURB: When a man is found in his apartment, appearing to have committed hara kiri with a samurai sword, Boston Homicide Detective Jack Cade suspects more is going on than what it appears. The department’s criminal profiler has left and a new guy is taking his place. At first, Cade is skeptical of Dr. Michael Di Santo. Di Santo seems so absent-minded and too neurotic to be effective. But he is brilliant and hot and Cade finds himself falling hard and fast, both in lust and in love. The attraction is mutual, although Michael's past demons haunt him, keeping him from getting too close. Together, they begin to unravel Michael's emotional knots even as they close in on a killer, another brilliant, wily person whose sights are now set on Michael.
Studying the front area of the building, he wandered down the flower box lined stone walk of the apartment building and turned to face it. Crime lab workers and patrol officers moved around on either side of the yellow crime tape, keeping the building cordoned off until Jack gave instructions to clear out and retain only the apartment as the crime scene.
Jack stepped aside to let someone go past him and bump! Smacked into something.
He turned. “Excuse me, I’m-” Or rather, he’d bumped into someone.
The man was adjusting the glasses Jack had apparently knocked off his face. “You’re in a crime scene,” Jack said.
“Yes, I know.” Almond-shaped brown eyes seemed to study Jack from behind round lenses. He looked Asian, yet sort of…not Asian at the same time. His dark brown hair was styled in a conventional way, parted on the side in short layers. The crumpled navy suit he wore, complete with diagonally striped tie against a light blue dress shirt made him appear as if his mother had dressed him for a spelling bee at school even though he was probably about Jack’s age. Forty.
Jack blinked. He was taking absolutely too long to find out who this man was. Then light dawned. Of course. “Dr. Di Santo?”
“Detective Cade?”
“That’s me. Hope I didn’t break your glasses.”
Di Santo touched them on each side as if to check. “No, they’re fine.”
Jack watched the man’s hands as he gingerly adjusted the frames. Nicely shaped fingers. Clean, trimmed nails. “Sorry I bumped you that way.”
“No problem.” Di Santo cleared his throat. “I hope I can be of help to you.”
Jack started. “Me too. This way.” He led Di Santo into the building and up to the apartment. “As I told you on the phone, I’m not so sure this was a suicide.” He let Di Santo precede him into the apartment and followed him, observing the way the slim man took in the surroundings on his way over to the victim.
Jack explained his suspicions and then let the man work. For what seemed a long time, Di Santo wandered about then stood in the center of the room, his gaze on the coffee table. His hand disappeared into his jacket pocket and pulled something out, which he popped into his mouth.
Jack watched him. Watched the man’s cheek bulge on the side while he sucked on whatever it was in his mouth, his gaze intent on the coffee table and victim. He then approached Jack and Jack heard the click of hard candy against the guy’s teeth. Finally Di Santo turned and knelt by the body.
Jack saw the professor’s eyes widen, especially on the hilt of the knife. “What is it?”
Di Santo seemed to ignore his question, staring at the knife. “Were his hands on the hilt of the knife or over his face when you found him?”
“Over his face.”
“Okay. Please open the robe so I can see the wound,” he said to Murphy.
Murphy did as he asked and Di Santo gazed for what seemed five straight minutes at the vicious cross-shaped cut in the centre of the wound.
“Jumonji giri,” he said, nearly in a whisper.
“What?” Jack looked between the knife wound and Di Santo.
The hot-yet-nerdy man was still staring down, seeming to ignore him. The candy in his mouth clicked several times against his teeth.
“Dr. Di Santo?”
Michael Di Santo looked up, his eyes seemingly far away yet intent at the same time. “What kind of movies did this man watch?”
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Award-winning, multi-published author of erotic romance, Sedonia Guillone spends her days writing deliciously naughty romances-when she’s not cuddling with the man she loves or watching kung fu and samurai films and eating chocolate.
Sedonia welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.sedoniaguillone.com.
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