Who is J.P. Bowie?
I was born in the Highlands of Scotland, in Aberdeen, sometimes referred to as the Gateway to the Highlands. It’s just down the road from where the Queen spends her summer. I left home at the tender age of eighteen and toured British theatres in numerous musical shows including Stephen Sondheim’s Company.
When I came to live in the States I worked in Las Vegas, Nevada for the magicians Siegfried and Roy as their Head of Wardrobe at the Mirage Hotel. I have also lived in San Diego and Laguna Beach.
Currently, Phil, my partner of 16years ( who I met on a cruise ship) and I are living back in Nevada.
My website: www.jpbowie.com
My blog: http://wwwjpbowie.blogspot.com
Tasty tidbits about J.P. Bowie
What is your favorite season?
I live in Vegas so it’s definitely not summer! Best time is Oct through April when it’s not hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk.
What is your favorite movie?
I have several favourites – some of the old classics like Singin’ In The Rain, Rebecca, and more recently The King’s Speech. Colin Firth is the man!
If you could be any animal what would it be?
A horse – as in hung like a —! Seriously, I love horses for their magnificence and elegance – kinda like my men!
Have you ever gone commando (no underwear)?
All the time – especially when I wear a kilt! LOL!
How old are you?
See answer 12!
Interview with J.P. Bowie
What genre/s do you write?
I write mainly m/m romance about cowboys, vampires, detectives, gladiators and sometimes just ordinary guys – well, hot ordinary guys.
What made you decide to write the genre you do?
I started out writing gay mysteries with minimum sex, and a friend said after reading one of my books, “Where’s the sex?” So I wrote My Vampire and I and made it hot and steamy, as well as romantic. Carol Lynne read it and introduced me to Total-e-bound, and I haven’t had a clean thought since!
What is your latest book/s about?
I had three releases in January Nowhere to Hide– that’s about a young doctor who meets an Aussie soldier in Darfur. Also the Saddle Up N Ride anthology for which I did a sequel of sorts to my single title Ride ‘em Cowboy, and a re-edited version of my very first book, A Portrait of Phillip.
Was there anything that inspired you to write it?
I’ve always admired the people who donate their time and skill to Doctors Without Borders, and they were the inspiration behind Nowhere to Hide – although they might be a wee bit surprised to hear that. Also I think Aussies are hot!
A Portrait of Phillip came about after I had read an article about a person who’d been in a coma for 10 years, and I thought ‘Wow, how amazing to wake up after all that time and find out all the changes that have taken place in the world and in your own personal circle while you’re unconscious.
I couldn’t quite have my hero out for 10 years so I made it 3 years, but even then life had moved on for everyone except him.
If you could pick any celebrities to play your main characters in a movie, who would they be and why?
Hugh Jackman is top of the list, but I have a problem with straight actors in gay roles. (I’d make an exception for Hugh) The rest of the list is short – Cheyenne Jackson, Chad Allen who appears in the Donald Strachey mysteries, and Robert Gant who was in Queer as Folk. Those guys are gay and wouldn’t have to fake it romance.
What are your thoughts on eBook piracy?
I hate those guys – nuff said!
How old were you when you started writing?
I started writing seriously eleven years ago – so that makes me thirty-one! LOL.
If you could go on a date with anyone (and I mean anyone) who would it be and why?
Well, Hugh Jackman is again top of the list, but I’ve had a crush on Brendan Fraser for years, and then there’s Daniel Craig, and—okay, I know I’m being a pig!
Do you think there is a difference between making love and having sex?
Absolutely. Having sex is easy – making love is ensuring the other person is as involved as you are, and is enjoying it as much. It’s when you have to stop thinking it’s all about you – and give of yourself in the most generous and loving way you possibly can.
Do you have any series out? What are they about?
I started with a series I call the ‘Portraits’. All five books are currently being re-released by MLR Press in ebook format. My Vampire and I series is now at its 6th (and final) chapter, and I have a mystery series, the Nick Fallon Investigations. I just started writing the 4th book in that series.
Do you have a day job?
I work in a bookstore – what else? Love it, as it keeps me up to date with what is current, and the youngsters I work with keep me up to date with all things young and relevant.
I want to thank J.P Bowie for taking the time to do this interview. Read below for more information on J.P. Bowie’s latest releases.
Nowhere to Hide
Doctor Mark Hamilton working for Doctors Who Care International and stationed at a refugee clinic in Darfur, never thought he’d meet and fall in love with someone like Sergeant Major Jack ‘Boomer’ Caruthers in the middle of the strife torn territory—nor could he ever imagine being sold as a sex slave to an exiled Prince!
Fortunately for Mark, it’s Jack to the rescue. The two men make a daring escape into the desert and are picked up by Jack’s team, but Mark ignores Jack’s warning not to return to the clinic, with dire results.
Once again made captive by the slave traders, Mark can only cling to the hope that Jack’s love for him is strong enough to face the dangers he will encounter in the vast deserts of Somalia.
EXCERPT:
The heat outside the makeshift emergency clinic was close to unbearable. Doctor Mark Hamilton wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a long swig from the bottle of water he carried. Northern Darfur was not, and never would be, the ideal spot for a summer vacation, he mused, with a wry twist to his generous mouth. Not for the first time he wondered who he should thank at ‘Doctors who Care International’ for sending him to this cosy spot.
“Dr. Hamilton?”
Mark turned at the sound of one of the nurses calling to him from inside the tent that served as a refugee camp emergency clinic until the promised, more permanent hospital was built. Promises, promises. Mark had tired of officialdom’s lack of coming through on those promises, and had more or less resigned himself to looking after his patients as best he could, with what medical supplies he’d brought with him, and what the UN sent sporadically.
“What is it, Asima?”
The pretty young nurse gazed up at Mark from dark eyes, rimmed with tiredness. “It is Ghali, Doctor. His breathing is strange again.”
Mark sighed. Ghali, a young boy, had been brought to the clinic two days earlier suffering from dehydration and borderline malnutrition. Not an uncommon malady in this part of the world, but the boy had been wearing clothes that told Mark Ghali was not one of the thousands of poor, undernourished children living in Northern Darfur. His shirt and shorts were of good quality, his shoes more than serviceable. The few words he’d uttered since he’d been brought in by the goat herder who’d found him lying among some rocks were not of the local dialect. Mark’s guess was that he did not come from any nearby town or village, which led to the inevitable questions—what on earth was he doing here, miles from home, and how had he managed to get this far?
So far, Ghali had not answered either of those questions. He’d simply gazed up at Mark with eyes like fathomless dark pools of sadness. Something bad had happened to the boy, and he was either too ashamed or too traumatised to tell anyone of it.
Mark followed Asima into the clinic, and walked between the long line of beds that flanked either side of the narrow canvassed structure. As usual, Ghali stared at Mark as he approached the bed, his eyes wary, as if he expected Mark to pick him up and throw him outside.
“Salam, Ghali. Kaifa haloka—how are you?” The boy visibly flinched when Mark knelt by the bedside and placed a hand on his forehead.
“He does not seem to understand,” Asima said quietly.
“Could be my lousy Arabic. Easy there, kid,” Mark murmured. “No one here is going to hurt you.” He brushed back the black curly hair from Ghali’s brow. He took the thermometer Asima handed him and pushed it gently into the boy’s ear. “His temperature is slightly elevated, but nothing to worry about,” he told Asima after glancing at the reading. “His rapid breathing is a product of his nervousness. He doesn’t trust us yet.”
Mark was loath to give Ghali a sedative. He was desperately low on that kind of medication and preferred to keep it for those patients with painful wounds suffered in rebel attacks. Every day he and the nurses treated victims of shootings or torture at the hands of the rebel factions that were rampant in Darfur. Still, he would like Ghali to have a peaceful night. He knew the boy had spent both nights at the clinic unable to sleep, his eyes wide open as if afraid to close them for fear of something, or someone, lurking nearby.
Mark stood, ready to go to his own quarters and get a sleeping pill for Ghali. Half a pill would probably do… He stopped, surprised, when a small hand slid into his. Ghali looked up at him, his dark eyes glistening with unshed tears. Mark knelt by his side again, and gently squeezed the boy’s hand.
“You’ll be all right,” he murmured in his halting Arabic, wishing he’d spent more time on this difficult language. “You’re safe here.”
Ghali slowly shook his head, then said a few words more clearly but in a language that had Mark at a loss. He looked at Asima helplessly.
“I think that he is speaking Turkish,” Asima explained. “I understand a little. He says something about bad men looking for him.”
“Tell him there are no bad men here.”
Before Asima could speak, Ghali said in English, “They will come. They look for me. They will never give up…my family…”Where can you get Nowhere to Hide?
A Portrait of Phillip
Excerpt:
Laguna Beach, CaliforniaEve Brandon had called him two days earlier saying she needed a physical therapist for her son Peter, and that Dr. Hamilton had recommended Andrew to her at the hospital. The regular therapist had taken off suddenly for a new position out of state, and the hospital staff had been filling in until a replacement was found. Andrew had called Ed Hamilton to thank him for the referral and the doctor had apprised him of the situation.
"It's a really sad case," Hamilton told him. "The boy's been in a coma for the last three years. There's very little possibility of anything changing really, but Eve-Mrs. Brandon, clings to the hope that eventually he'll wake up. Initially, we set up a regimen of passive exercise and massage to prevent the muscles from atrophying. She's insisted on keeping it going through the years, despite the fact that there's little chance of recovery."
"What caused the coma?"
"He was beaten half to death by 'persons unknown' as the police put it. They never did find out who did it. It was an obvious hate crime. The police report stated that there was no sign that their attackers intended to rob them."
"Them?"
"Yes, Peter's friend Phillip was attacked too. I'm afraid he didn't make it. He was dead at the scene."
"Jesus..." Andrew drew in a sharp breath as he recognized this part of the story. "Wait a minute-what did you say the last name was?"
"Brandon, Peter Brandon."
"Yeah, I remember reading about this. They never did find the bastards who attacked them, did they?"
"No...and it was especially hard on Eve. Her husband, Paul, had died of a heart attack a little more than a year before this incident and she had moved in with Peter and Phillip at their insistence. Terrible really, Peter was an extremely promising artist; already had a couple of exhibitions in town, and there was word of some New York dealers interested in his work. Eve won't part with any of it now, though she's had many offers."
"And there's no hope at all he may wake up eventually?"
"I'm afraid not. It's a miracle he's still alive really. Anyway Andrew, she's looking forward to meeting you. I've told her you're just the man for the job."
Andrew frowned as he remembered the conversation with Dr. Hamilton. What a god-awful thing to happen. Now, he could help but feel slightly guilty about his earlier euphoria. David stirred, and turned to face Andrew, his morning wood pushing between his lover's thighs.
"Good morning, my pretty," he murmured.
Andrew smiled and placed a lingering kiss on David's mouth. As their bodies meshed, all thoughts of getting out of bed were quickly forgotten.
Andrew, never tired of taking in David's dark good looks, courtesy of his Italian heritage, found himself wishing they could take the day off together. David's job in a high-powered architect's office in Newport Beach demanded he work long hours, even some weekends, but the money was good and he was highly thought of by the owners of the company.
"I have my first appointment with that coma patient I told you about-Peter Brandon. You know, the one who was beaten up in LA about three years ago? I have to meet his mother first. I guess she feels it necessary to explain what she expects, though Ed Hamilton filled me in on the history. He was one of the doctors initially on the case."
"Nice of Ed to recommend you."
"Yes, it was. Apparently, he liked the work I did at the children's clinic, after that school bus accident."Andrew was referring to the physical therapy he had given to several school children after their bus had careened off the road into a ditch on the Laguna Canyon Road. None of the children had been seriously hurt, but some had required therapy for a time afterwards.
David nodded, then said reluctantly, "Okay kiddo, got to go." He rose and picked up his briefcase. "See you around seven o'clock..." He gave Andrew a quick kiss, then dashed out the door with a cheerful "Bye!"
With some time to spare before his meeting with Mrs. Brandon, Andrew cleaned up in the kitchen, then wandered into the large sunny living room they had fallen in love with when they first saw their new home. Located on a sloping vacant lot two blocks east of Pacific Coast Highway, and high enough to have an ocean view over the roof tops below, the townhouse was one of only six terraced units. The builder had gone bankrupt and the units had been placed on the auction block.
David had heard about them through one of the senior partners at the office and immediately they had put in a bid. To their amazement, they were successful in securing the exact unit they wanted. It had stretched their joint finances but they considered it a worthwhile investment. David's parents had given them some starter furniture until they were in a position to furnish it to their own taste.
Andrew walked out onto the deck, inhaling the fresh scent of jasmine that grew in abundance nearby. Leaning on the deck railing, he looked out across the tops of the carefully maintained trees that lined the street below, to the blue of the ocean beyond. He lifted his face to the warmth of the morning sun and considered himself a lucky man.
Where can you get A Portrait of Phillip?
How rare is a Scottish accent in the desert? Do you get many comments on it?
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