Five minutes with HC Brown
Tell us about you.
H.C. Brown is a multi published, best selling, award winning, author of Historical, Paranormal, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, BDSM, Time Travel, Action Adventure, and Contemporary Romance. In 2011 she was delighted to received nomination in three categories in the 2011 CAPA Awards: Favorite Author, Best GLBT Romance and Best Science Fiction Romance. H.C writes about strong alpha males in complex settings and all her stories have happy endings.
When did you start writing?
At about five years old, I wrote my first story and illustrated it too. I was first published in 2004.
What do you love about writing?
The freedom to go wherever I like, and stay for as long as I want.
Biggest pet peeve about writing?
Submissions. I hate the wait it drives me crazy.
Most hated word in the English language?
Best advice you’ve ever been told?
Never give up.
Eating chocolate 🙂
Craziest thing you’ve ever done?
Go to a gay BDSM club 😉 Not easy for a straight grandmother LOL.
Place you’d love to visit?
New York Museum.
Most famous person you’ve ever met?
One of them, I’ve met a lot but the one I enjoyed meeting most was Alice Cooper and I still have the photographs.
Three random facts about you that your readers don’t know?
I’m an International All Breeds Cat Judge.
I write in three different pen names.
I hate people swearing around me, I find it disrespectful.
From what/where do you find inspiration?
Life, music and people.
Favourite book of all time?
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
What’s next for you? Any current WIP’s we should know about?
I’m currently writing a historical( Georgian) romance and a new M/M BDSM series called Club Whips….a spin off from my Club Floggers Series.
Tell us about your new release?
A Tryst in Time by H.C. Brown
After inheriting a Georgian house in London, Zack Daniels, millionaire art dealer, becomes obsessed with a portrait of the home’s former owner, Lord Alexander Swift. One evening, Zack decides to explore the old house and on entering, the once bricked up cellar finds himself hurled back in time to 1775 and comes face to face with the sweet man of his dreams. The attraction is immediate, and they fall quickly into a whirlwind of erotic delights. Nothing runs smoothly for the tall, muscular, tanned American. Out of place in Alexander’s delicate, refined world, he needs to find his way back to the future – and convince Alexander to go with him. Mistaken for a debtor, beaten, and kidnapped, he must escape and return to Alexander before time runs out. –
Bewildered, Zack followed the ‘ghost’ up the steps and into the hallway. He glanced around. 1775? Oh my God. This place did not resemble the house he had painstakingly restored. He gazed at the walls, sooty from candles, and noticed the carpet under his feet showed signs of wear. He followed Alexander through the dark house and up two flights of stairs to the main bedchamber, the room he had chosen for his bedroom. A four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room with heavy blue velvet curtains all around. A delightful writing desk and chair, definitely one of Chippendale’s finest, sat against one wall, and a single armchair stood beside the hearth. Fighting the temptation to examine the interesting objects on the desk, Zack pushed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. Soft yellow light fell from a silver candelabrum on the mantel and reflected in a pair of magnificently crafted, glossy side tables. “In my time this is my room, although my bed is Victorian.”
“Victorian?” Alexander removed his coat and waistcoat and then unbuttoned his shirt. “I do not know a craftsman of that name. Is he English?” He smiled. “Come now, David, do stop this foolery. It is a fine jest, but the night is short.”
Zack shook his head, exasperated. “I’m not Fitzhugh. Look at the initials on my ring. ZD. Zack Daniels.” He thrust his signet ring under Alexander’s nose. “This ring has been in my family for generations.” He rolled up the sleeve of his black, cashmere turtleneck and pointed to his Rolex. “Will this convince you?” With a smile, he pulled out his lighter and clicked it until a flame burst into life. “Or this?” Zack slid his zipper down and then up. “Have you ever seen a zipper before?” He caught Alexander’s panicky gaze. “It’s true, I’m from the future, and I’m guessing your cellar is some type of time portal.”
Alexander’s Adam’s apple moved up and down, and the vein in the side of his neck throbbed. He gripped the back of the chair; his face had drained of color, and he swayed unsteadily.
Oh, hell. Zack cleared his throat. He hadn’t meant to frighten His Lordship into having a stroke or something. Here’s the man I’ve fantasized over for the past year, and I’ve scared him out of his wits. He softened his tone, holding his hands out to the side, palms up. “Hey, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to come on so strong. Look, sit down, and we’ll talk.” He smiled. “This is a bit of a shock for me too.”
“You look so … so like David. Have you come to murder me?” Alexander dropped into the chair and gazed at Zack. “Or do you want money? I do not come into my fortune until Wednesday, but I have a few crowns in the house. Or do you plan to throw me to the mercy of the anti-sodomites?”
Zack took in the man before him. Alexander stood about five feet eight, with narrow shoulders and hips. Blond, wavy hair framed effeminate features and a soft, sweet, vulnerable expression. The young lord looked so damn sexy in his tight breeches and stockings. “Hell no, man. If you knew how much I’ve thought about you this past year. We have a connection—” Zack touched his chest, “—in here—as if we were meant to be together. I bought a portrait of you today. I’m gonna hang it at the top of the stairs.”
“My painting? West has yet to finish it. How could you purchase an unfinished portrait without my permission?”
Zack smiled. “What I’ve said is true … I’m from the future. I inherited this house almost a year ago and have restored it. Your painting, in my time, is over two hundred years old.” He rubbed his chin. “To be honest, the thought of being in your time scares the hell out of me. I could easily be stuck here and not able to return home.”
“Although you act like a madman, I admit I have never laid eyes on any of the devices you’ve shown me … nor have I heard your unusual speech, and your attire is most strange.” Alexander met Zack’s gaze. “If what you say is true, there is only one way to proceed. We must take this one step at a time.” Alexander gripped the arms of the chair. “Let me begin. Why did you purchase my painting? What significance does my portrait have to you?”
Zack leaned against the mantle and gazed into Alexander’s deep blue eyes. Before him sat the living, breathing man whose sweet face he had come to know in intimate detail. Those same delicate features and that heart-tearing gaze intensified in the reality before him. “The moment you stared out at me from a catalog of a private art collection, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. You looked so lost, so troubled. I wanted to return you home. It took me almost a year to persuade the owners of your portrait to put the painting up for auction.” He sighed. “I know about the letters between you and Fitzhugh. In fact, I feel as if I’ve known you forever.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Look, for some reason, I think I’ve been sent back in time to help you. Don’t ask me why or how. Hell, I thought you were a ghost.”
“The letters—you know about the letters? That was months ago. I haven’t written since David told me he planned to go to the Americas.” Alexander rubbed his temple in slow circles. “Then I am undone.” He reached for a crystal-cut decanter and with trembling fingers, poured a glass of amber liquid. “Your words may be filled with ambrosia, but the subtle poison is there. I did not know the anti-sodomites would go to such lengths to achieve their ends.” He lifted his chin and glared at Zack. “Do you intend to help me to the gallows, Mr. Daniels? Or perhaps you would offer me the decency of taking my own life?”
Zack crouched before Alexander. “You have it all wrong. I’m not here to hurt you. Damn it, man, just meeting you in the flesh—hell, don’t you understand? I fell in love with a damn painting of a man who has been dead for over two hundred years! Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Well, it does to me too. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to sane people and neither does traveling back in time. To be honest, I’m starting to question my own sanity right now.”
“Sane or not, you know I am a sodomite. So what is your purpose, Mr. Daniels— blackmail?”
Where can we find you?
Web site: http://www.hcbrown-author.com
Join her fan group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hcbrownfangroup/join.