This is one of my husband’s favorite sayings. TMI: He always uses it on the occasions after snoo snoo when I apologize for making him do all the work. And just so I don’t look lazy, they aren’t all that often.

Now, his usage has nothing to do with homo/bi/transphobia, but I think it’s the perfect saying to illustrate why I write gay romance.

Let me back up for a minute. I’m a gardener (bear with me—I’ll bring it all home, I promise). I’m a member of the American Hemerocallis Society (that’s daylilies) and active in my state chapter of the group. Like, very active. Running-the-web-presence-for-my-club active. Hybridizing-my-own-plants active. Busting-my-ass-for-the-past-two-weeks-to-get-ready-for-our-annual-sale active. My shoulders hurt. My bulging lumbar disk is especially bulgy; to the tune of I’m typing this while lying on my stomach because sitting sucks. I’ve got poison ivy patches on my arms. The dirt spots on my knees will take more than one shower to eradicate. My yard is strewn with severed roots and foliage where I’ve torn apart, washed, cut-back, and tagged more plants than I care to count.

ROYGBV of Daylilies:

Why? (Believe me, I’ve asked myself this all week.)  Why the hell would I do this to myself? For the pocket change I’ll get for my portion of plants sold? (The answer here is no, no, no—I’d rather sell my ass on the streets once for the same price and then eat bon bons for the rest of the week.) For the exercise? (The answer here is my arms are looking pretty diesel, but I’d much rather take a jog and be done for the day). For the tick bites? Silly rabbit.

For the love?

Ding ding ding! Give the (wo)man a cigar! I do it because I love gardening. I love creating something beautiful out of nothing. I love sharing that beauty and excitement with like-minded people. I love how appreciative the members of my club are of my hard work. I love the friends I’ve made because of my involvement. I love showing the botanically challenged that daylilies are not just those much-maligned orange plants along the side of the road—they come in all shapes and sizes and can add so much to your garden if you just give them a chance. I love taking a tiny black seed, planting it in a questionable patch of dirt, and watching it struggle up from the ground, fighting the elements over a long period of time to eventually bloom into something gorgeous that is completely unique and all mine. And then I share it, and it becomes everyone’s.

That is exactly why I write gay romance. All of those reasons. I love the people and the beauty and the fight—even the patches of poison ivy, because in the end they heal over and sometimes they make a great story, or at least a lesson-learned. I love feeling that maybe my words do more than simply entertain–maybe they educate. Maybe they help someone out there feel understood.

I’m a member of the Love is Love Club. We work hard because we believe in this crazy little thing called equality.

Is writing work? Yes. Of course it is, but I wouldn’t stop for the world. I’ve got plenty of seeds waiting to beat the odds. And it’s never really work when you love what you do.

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To celebrate today being the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, and Biphobia, I’m giving away an e-copy of my latest release, Crossed Hearts. Kindly follow my blog to be in the running (if you already do, just drop me a comment and I’ll add your name to the draw). Thanks for being a member of this phenomenal club of ours, and happy hopping!

Blurb:

One heart’s been broken. The other is secondhand.

Kory Vansant doesn’t deserve to be alive.

As time sucks him dry of energy, sapping the final ounces of strength from his congenitally enlarged heart, he’s forced to end his career as Kory Kent, porn star. Staring down death, he questions his life choices and prays for a miracle. For another chance at life, he vows to change who he is at his core.

His prayers are answered. A perfect heart now beats in his chest, but it comes at a heavy price. The donor is an innocent young man cut down far too prematurely.

Kory’s blemished history and his donor’s spotless past are far from ideal matches.

As his debts skyrocket, Kory can’t help but think his resolve to walk the high road is being tested. After he meets the adorable Will Squire at the gravesite they both visit, he’s doubly damned because there’s no way he can keep up his end of the bargain. What happens when a man breaks a deal with a higher power?

Will often prefers the company of the dead to that of the living. Following a bad breakup, he pours himself into his two jobs—funeral director at his uncle’s mortuary and part-time paramedic. He’s drawn ever closer to Kory, as if fate sticks her fickle hand in and pushes them together like two unlikely puzzle pieces. But sometimes history can’t be buried, and maybe divine intervention isn’t always right. Will discovers everyone is imperfect, no matter how pretty the outer package, and opening one’s heart is never easy, but can be oh, so worth the pain.

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Don’t forget to check out all the other hoppers for great words and giveaways!