Today I am super excited to welcome back author Anne Tenino to the blog. She is here as part of her blog tour for her new release, Too Stupid to Live.  So, if you have seen the cover, you may know the book features some kilt references (as well a sexy kilt scene). And since I am CRAZY for a guy in a kilt, Anne is sharing her thoughts on kilts with us today. Yeah!

Anne has also brought a great giveaway in the form of one her hand made, crocheted penises!  Yes, you read that right folks. And these things are in hot demand after GRL.  So be sure to enter for your chance to win!  (and be sure to note that you need to email your entry, not submit it here)

So please join me in a big welcome for Anne!



Welcome to the Too Stupid to Live Blog Tour!

Normally, I’d be throwing confetti around (as in my last couple of blog tours) but this time I decided to go bigger—I’m giving away original artwork. For those of you not familiar with my male genital sculptures (that makes them sound so respectable, doesn’t it?), I’ll direct you here http://annetenino.com/x-rated-crochet-gallery/ to my website, where I’m showcasing the ones I’ve made in the past, and the ones I’m giving away for this blog tour. For those of you dying to win, the details are at the bottom of this post (but really, it’s only polite to read the post first, right?)

On that note, I’ll stop the intro stuff and get on with it.


Where I live, it’s not unusual to see a guy walking down the street in a skirt. Not a kilt, mind you; a skirt. And I’m not talking about guys in drag—I’m talking about the urban neo-hippie Portland is aswarm with. It’s a protest against gender-conformity. I think.

Regardless, I don’t have a problem with either the neo-hippies or the guys in skirts, but I can unequivocally say I didn’t find it sexy in the least.

Now kilts, that’s a whole different story . . .

Here is the dashing Damon Suede modeling his kilt at GRL

Have you seen the Utilikilt? Yummers. I mean, not the kilt itself, but the strapping young lads who wear them. This is a link to one of my favorite images (I didn’t get permission to actually post it, but I’m assuming if you like kilts, you’ll make the effort to click on it) http://www.utilikilts.com

But Utilitkilts are the modern, American version of the kilt, and all romance readers know the real McCoy is the traditional Scottish kilt. (FWIW, McCoy is an Irish name, and is associated with a number of tartans, but not kilts necessarily.) In fact, nine out of ten modern romance novel aficionados agree: a Scottish Highlander riding toward a fair maiden—or lad—in distress, about to make said maiden/lad his (once he concludes a suitable wooing) is one of the most swoon-worthy tropes in the genre today.

What I’m saying is, if any gentlemen out there reading this want to win or win-back their true love, investing in a tartan and some riding lessons is the smartest move you can make.

Are you wondering why I’m going on at length about kilts and such? Because in my newest release, Too Stupid to Live (out today), the Highlander trope figures heavily, and the kilt is a very large part of that. Many tropes figure heavily in this book, because one of the main characters, Sam, is one of those very nine out of ten romance novel aficionados mentioned above.

But let’s get back to the kilt. See, Sam has a bit of a kilt obsession, and in the book I wrote a kilt scene (and they aren’t exactly out picking daisies and eating lunch on the lawn while Ian’s wearing his tartan). Ian’s been “the Highlander” in Sam’s mind since they met, so a kilt-focused encounter seemed appropriate. And, if I do say so myself, it’s a pretty hot scene.

The kilt scene is one of those I planned on writing from the beginning. I actually had a few lead-ins to it, and instead of giving you an actual excerpt from the book, I dug up one of those other possible scene set-ups so you could get an idea of Sam’s perception of the wonder that is The Kilt. (Keep in mind as you read that this excerpt is completely unedited.)

Sam was searching Ian’s closet for the right tie while Ian took a shower. He was going to be late for some thing if Sam didn’t help him, and if he was late it would totally be Sam’s fault. He couldn’t wipe the dopey grin off his face as he thought about waking up to Ian’s mouth on his dick, and the long, lazy blow job that followed. It was the reciprocal blow job that pushed Ian into the “late” zone. Sam couldn’t help but take his time with Ian; he tasted good.

Sam lost track of the tie mission, and ended up at the far end of the closet, where all the stuff Ian never wore lived in dry-cleaning bags. He stared at what hung in front of him in clear plastic, some more alert part of his brain trying to break through the post-blow job haze and tell him something important. Sam focused on the bag and the clothes underneath, trying to make it make sense.

Okay, um, yeah. Plaid. Plaid something and a suit jacket. It was a weird jacket, cutaway waist, snowy white shirt hanging under. Sort of a purse hanging around the neck. And he so couldn’t see Ian ever, ever wearing a purse with plaid pants. Especially pleated pants.

That was lot of pleats for a pair of pants.

Holy shit. A kilt.

Sam was standing in a daze, staring into the closet when Ian walked out, only a towel around his waist. Oh god. Kilt preview. Please let it be a preview. Sam swallowed.

“What’s up kid? Where’s my tie?” Ian took the towel from around his waist and started toweling his hair.

Oh, god, those thighs he had. So meaty and hairy. A brain-porno started up and Sam was watching Ian move, flashes of thigh under his kilt as he walked. He nearly swooned. What if Ian went commando under the kilt? Sam could just see Ian’s dick bobbing, his hairy balls swaying gently under the scratchy wool. Sam’s knees gave out. He sat down suddenly on the bed. “You have a kilt,” he whispered.

Ian looked at him strangely. “Did you get a tie for me or not?” He walked to the closet, showing off his beautiful, sculpted ass and hamstrings. Sam swallowed. If he knelt at Ian’s feet while he wore the kilt, could he see up it, maybe even reach to touch? Would Ian let him bury his head under the kilt and blow him?

Trust me, I realize it’s very cruel of me to stop there, but that’s pretty much all there is that won’t give other stuff away. Besides, as I said, this didn’t even make it to the final version. If you want to know what did make it to the final version, there’s a buy link below. But first, the blurb:

It isn’t true love until someone gets hurt.

Sam’s a new man. Yes, he’s still too tall, too skinny, too dorky, too gay, and has that unfortunate addiction to romance novels, but he’s wised up. His One True Love is certainly still out there, but he knows now that real life is nothing like fiction. He’s cultivated the necessary fortitude to say “no” to the next Mr. Wrong, no matter how hot, exciting, and/or erotic-novel-worthy he may be.

Until he meets Ian.

Ian’s a new man. He’s pain-free, has escaped the job he hated and the family who stifled him, and is now—possibly—ready to dip his toe into the sea of relationships. He’s going to be cautious, though, maybe start with someone who knows the score and isn’t looking for anything too complicated. Someone with experience and simple needs that largely revolve around the bedroom.

Until he meets Sam.

Sam’s convinced that Ian is no one’s Mr. Right. Ian’s sure that Sam isn’t his type. They can’t both be wrong . . . can they?

You can read another excerpt and purchase Too Stupid to Live from Riptide Publishing here: http://www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/too-stupid-live


Here is the Joyfully Jay  crocheted penis prize!

And now for those of you hoping to win one of the tour prizes—crocheted cock—the question you’ve been waiting for is coming, but first, let’s go over the contest rules, such as they are:

I’ll be giving away one crocheted cock per post; please include the question you’re answering in your email so I know which post it is.

  • Winners will have to provide me with a mailing address to send the penis to after I notify them by email (about January 21st).
  • There are no geographic restrictions on winning—I will send anywhere in the world, even to countries in which customs may confiscate the item (although if it doesn’t make it, I won’t be able to provide a replacement, I’m sorry).
  • Winners will be chosen randomly from each correct answer I receive by January 20th. That’s two days after the blog tour ends.

To win, correctly answer the question below in the body of an email sent to me at anne @ annetenino.com.

Why does Ian own a kilt, anyway?


About Anne Tenino: Raised on a steady media diet of Monty Python, classical music and the visual arts, Anne Tenino rocked the mental health world when she was the first patient diagnosed with Compulsive Romantic Disorder. Since that day, Anne has taken on conquering the M/M world through therapeutic writing. Finding out who those guys having sex in her head are and what to do with them has been extremely liberating.

Anne’s husband finds it liberating as well, although in a somewhat different way. Her two daughters are mildly confused by Anne’s need to twist Ken dolls into odd positions. They were raised to be open-minded children, however, and other than occasionally stealing Ken1’s strap-on, they let Mom do her thing without interference.

Wondering what Anne does in her spare time? Mostly she lies on the couch, eats bonbons and shirks housework.

Check out what Anne’s up to now by visiting her site. http://annetenino.com

 

%d bloggers like this: