The Snowflake | National Frozen Margarita Day

July 24 - Frozen Margarita

Today it’s National Frozen Margarita Day. Though in some places, I read it’s National Tequila Day. I guess since you have Tequila in Margaritas, they go hand in hand. 

As soon as I saw Frozen Margarita, I thought of my favourite sculptor. Theophile Lekas in The Snowflake has a thing for ice – and Dylan Mincer, of course.  

Of all the things I’ve written, this… I don’t know what to say. I love this, I loved writing it, and when I read it again to re-release it, I informed hubby he’s married to a genius. He simply smiled; don’t know how I should interpret that 😂 

I get that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, though. I mean, I guess crazy artists who talk to their cats can turn some away LOL. Okay, maybe it’s the blood and creating a sculpture out of body parts, I don’t know. 

Anyway, to give you a glimpse of Theo’s love for ice, here’s a snippet. 


Theophile Lekas gazed out over the crowd in the nightclub. He took another swallow of his third mojito. The taste was all right, but it wasn’t the reason he drank them. The crushed ice was what made his spirit sing—or something along those lines. Words had never been his thing. The beauty of ice was something that couldn’t be described, and should people failed to see it, the world would come to an end.

He rubbed his chest, the cold from the drink made him shiver, and looked out over the sea of dancing people. Perhaps too small to be called a sea—pond?—words again. He grimaced, ignoring the way the bartender raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t said it out loud, he didn’t think, and if he had, the music would’ve drowned it out.

Out there, rubbing against a man way more handsome than Theo, was Dylan Mincer.

Dylan—tall, dark, and mouth-watering. As unique as a snowflake, as beautiful as cut ice, and as unaware of Theo’s existence as the rest of the world’s population.

Perhaps Dylan should be his next project. When his musician exhibit was finished, he needed to woo the world with something new. Not everyone had been wooed by the show, of course, but he couldn’t continue making sculptures for weddings and banquets, or he’d end up ramming an ice pick in his temple merely to end his misery.

A homage to the male beauty.

Bubbles spread in his chest. He could have Dylan pose for him, could bring him out to his barn where he could model while Theo sculpted. He could already see the clear ice glistening as he shaped it into a copy of Dylan’s abs—there would be abs, he was sure of it. He wanted to learn every little dimple and ridge of Dylan’s body, wanted to transfer every scar and every sign of life lived onto the ice version. Beauty is made of imperfections and those imperfections made Dylan perfect. Theo rubbed his neck to clear his head of the thoughts swirling in there.

Another?” One of the men who had been dancing with Dylan appeared by his side.

Erm…” Theo swirled the remaining contents of his glass. The ice had melted, and some sad-looking mint leaves clung to the rim.

You like mojitos?” The man was shouting, and Theo did his best not to scrunch his nose.

I like ice.”

The man’s laugh was as loud as his shouts. “I know.” He clapped Theo’s shoulder and motioned for the bartender. “A beer and a frozen margarita for my sculptor here.”

Theo straightened and studied the man’s face. He’d remembered that nose. It sloped. It wasn’t big, rather narrow actually but with a rounded tip and in combination with the heavy brows it looked ridiculous. They hadn’t met. Theo might not be good at names, and he might not be good at remembering things, but shapes he knew.

Hey, where did you—oh…” Dylan Mincer. Theo’s breath caught, but before he could smile, Dylan was glaring at him.

Dylan.” The one breathy word shouldn’t have been audible, but for some reason, the music stopped in the exact same moment as Theo was having a verbal orgasm.

You two know each other?” Nose-guy smiled, nodded between them, and draped an arm over Dylan’s shoulders. His brain would have looked better on the ground than in his head.

Never seen him before, but you have, I see.” Dylan turned his glare to Nose-guy who chuckled and Theo pictured a chisel protruding from his neck.

Nah, we haven’t met before.” Nose-guy nodded towards Theo as if he wanted him to back his story. Theo kept his mouth shut.

Yeah, right.” Dylan signalled to the bartender. “You hurried off the dance floor and managed to buy a drink for a complete stranger before I could get here.”

The bartender placed a margarita glass with what looked like scooped ice in it in front of Theo, and he tuned out Dylan and Nose-guy. Sure, it was Dylan Mincer, but a piece of ice slid down the outside of the glass, reflecting the light. The salt on the rim could almost be mistaken for ice too, but it wasn’t as beautiful as the edges of the crushed cubes. It saddened him that it would melt.

When he made sculptures, the melting aspect was part of it. A sculpture lasted for several hours, but details would fade away. A display of life’s ephemerality—or something. Light caught in water drops sliding down an icy surface.

Dylan, this is Theophile Lekas. Theophile, this here is—”

Dylan Mincer.” Why Theo had to say his name he didn’t know, but it was as if his tongue longed for the caress of it—or whatever. He stared at the air behind Dylan and Nose-guy. If he couldn’t bring Dylan home now, they could just as well leave him alone.

Have we met?” Dylan took a step closer, his frosty grey eyes narrowing.

Theo shook his head. “Not really. You were the year above me in school. I remember you.” Remember. Theo almost rolled his eyes.

Oh…” Dylan frowned, and Theo catalogued the way his muscles moved. “Wait—” He turned to Nose-guy. “Theophile, wasn’t that the guy who was as unique as an Elvis impersonator in Vegas?”

The floor shook under Theo’s feet. An Elvis impersonator?



Nothing inspires art like love. 
Theophile Lekas has spent the last seventeen years trying to build a name for himself as an ice sculptor. Ice is his world, but he lives for Dylan Mincer. 
But loving from afar isn’t enough, and if Theo wants to win Dylan’s heart, he’ll need to sweep him off his feet. And what better way to do it than with a sculpture that will leave Dylan breathless and the world in no doubt of Theo’s genius? 
After an argument leads to murder, Theo is hit with true inspiration. And he has the perfect block to begin his project. For Dylan, Theo will create his masterpiece. And it will be as unique as a snowflake. 
Great art requires the perfect muse. 

Buy links:

Gay Horror Romance: 20,523 words

JMS Books :: Amazon ::

Cover Reveal | Deadly Sugar


Soon we will run out of new shiny covers to share, but not yet! On the 7th of August, Deadly Sugar will be re-released, and I have a cover. 

I wrote this as part of Buried Desired 1 together with Amy Spector. It was all her idea; I will take no credit at all. She wanted us to write a double horror feature. 

There is one thing you need to know about Amy, she might appear as a lovely, sane woman, but she’s not. She likes horror!  

I love writing horror stories, though if it hadn’t been for Amy, I probably never would have known LOL. But I don’t read horror, and I definitely don’t watch it. Hubby often laughs at me, but if some idiot can come up with scary enough stuff to make a movie about it, then some idiot can do what they do in the movie in real life. 

Perhaps not the best argument, since I lock people up in a root cellar in this one and let them starve to death… but I bet someone could do that in real life, so it sort of proves my point 😱 

Okay, ready to see the cover?? I love this one! 



After six years of a relationship going nowhere, Jett Thompson has moved away to start over. Maybe his new neighbour David can help distract him from the ache left by his ex’s absence. To get closer to David, Jett invites himself for a cup of tea, but things don’t go as planned. David is standoffish and secretive, and when Jett asks about the strange noises coming from the back of his garden, he gets no answers.

David’s life is good. He has a whole root cellar full of lovers, and he doesn’t need a nosy neighbour meddling in his business. He doesn’t need a friend, but maybe he can make room for another lover. Jett might make beautiful cakes, but David knows nothing tastes as good as thin feels.

Buy links

Gay Horror: 20,281 words

JMS Books 

Summer – Winter Sale

Summer-Winter-SaleI just realized I haven’t posted anything about the Summer-Winter Sale over at Smashwords. Most of my books are 50% off till the end of the month.

50% off

Get them here!

I’ve most likely forgotten one or two, you’ll find all discouted books if you hop to my profile.


Worth His SaltEldred Henstare is a not so powerful witch who’s been left in charge of helping the city’s lingering spirits to move on. He usually handles it pretty well, but something’s wrong with the spirit leading him to the abandoned lighthouse.

Mo Vin likes his quiet life in the cottage next to the lighthouse, at least it’s quiet until one night when Eldred Henstare—young, beautiful and crazy—arrives. After that night things aren’t the same. A man is found dead on the beach outside Mo’s cottage, and he’s almost sure he’s the one who killed him, except it doesn’t make sense. Why would he kill anyone?

Eldred needs to get rid of the ghost haunting Mo. If he doesn’t Mo’s life is in danger, but to do it he needs both Mo and his brother Lachtin to help out.

Grab it here!