A.F. Henley on Baby’s on Fire and Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithful – the Mars Bar Incident ~ Excerpt, Guest Blog, Rafflecopter Giveaway NSFW 18+

Prism Book Alliance® would like to thank A.F. Henley for taking the time to talk with us today.

Baby's on Fire Cover

Title: Baby’s on Fire
Author: A.F. Henley
Publisher: Less Than Three Press
Cover Artist: Raphael
Publication Date:05/06/2015
Genre/Sub-Genre: Contemporary, Erotica, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance

Blurb:

Baby’s on Fire

In 1974 Gerry Faun gets the break of his life—an opportunity to meet gorgeous, openly bisexual, glam-rock idol Mark Devon. Mark’s world is new, exciting, and Gerry finally gets to explore the side of his sexuality that he’s kept hidden. But the press is everywhere, and when Gerry’s father gets wind of what’s going on behind his back, Gerry ends up on the street. Mark offers to let Gerry come along with the tour and Gerry jumps at the chance. The tour is a never-ending party—and the start of what seems to be a perfect relationship for him and Mark. Until Mark’s manager decides Gerry isn’t worth the trouble he’s stirring up.

In 1994 Gerry is finally coming out of some tough times—he has a job that pays the bills, a car that hasn’t quite broken down, and a small rental in Jersey City. After a decade of barely getting by, if life was as good as it was going to get, Gerry figures he’ll manage just fine. It would be easier if he wasn’t still haunted by the man the media won’t let him forget, the man who stole his heart and then broke it… the man that’s shown up pleading for a second chance.

Gay Contemporary Romance
Copyright © 2015 by A.F. Henley
Published by Less Than Three Press

Please note: Novel contains explicit sexual content.

A Giveaway and Blog Tour for my newest release… Baby’s on Fire

A great big hello from the Baby’s on Fire blog tour and giveaway! We’ve been digging through some of the rumors, gossip, and events that took place in the late sixties and early seventies music world. There were a lot of serious issues tackled back in those day, the war, the shaky economy, freedom of expression, and the reawakening to the concept of sexual liberation. As I’ve said, the sixties and the seventies were not the first generation to realize things were a little bit lacking up on the sexual liberation front. They met the concept with a bang, though. Throwing open doors and bringing it into the mainstream media.

Not everyone approved. The generations that were still in power saw their kids doing things that no one from their walks of life would have dared done openly. They were appalled and disgusted by the deviance and apparent lack of self-control. They’d been raised to believe in the virtue of family, respect for the church, and the unwavering commitment to their government. They were, as so often portrayed to be the words of the Queen, “not amused.”

It’s not much of a wonder that when they came across the new generation’s outlooks, they made much ado over nothing.

Which brings me to my next rumor…

** Please note that none of these posts are indicative of the main characters or the instances in my novel Baby’s on Fire. They do, however, give a very clear indication of what the MCs would have been experiencing both time-wise and with the reactions/mindset of the people around them.

Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithful – the Mars Bar Incident:

The Rumor

The year was 1967, in the month of February, and police officers, acting on a “tip” raided Keith Richards’ residence for drugs. On entering the premises, performer Mick Jagger, singer Marianne Faithfull, and several others were in the living room. The officers found Ms. Faithfull and Mick Jagger in the nude, spread out on the floor, while Mick enjoyed a Mars Bar… well, in the most outlandish way possible. At the risk of being accused of being rude to state it outright, I can only say that I’m sorry, but it doesn’t offend me. I will, however, warn those who do get offended at the mention of body parts to skip forward to the next paragraph and not read the next statement – police sources stated that Mick was using the Mars Bar to penetrate Marianne’s vagina.

The Reality

According to Marianne, the story is completely and one-hundred percent bogus. Yes, they were arrested for drug possession in 1967. Yes, she had just gotten out the bath. Yes, she was undressed and when she heard the ruckus, she threw a fur rug over herself to cover up. But that’s it, story over.

According to Keith Richards, who owned the home, there were in fact “a couple” of chocolate bars at the scene of the crime. He’s been quoted as saying that when a person is “on acid you suddenly get sugar lack and you’re munching away.” He’s even stated that one of the bars was on the table in front of the sofa where Marianne had been reclining, after her bath, while dressed in “this fur bedspread that she’d been in all day.” He doesn’t hesitate to add that the idea that she was doing anything more than eating it is a “myth.”

However, Richards’ perspective on the event might not be completely clear. Apparently, he was so high on LSD at the time of the bust, that he’s said that he thought he was being visited by a gang of identically-dressed elves. According to his recollections, Richards thought the officers were, “very small people wearing dark blue with shiny bits and helmets.”

So while the party continued, the officers did what officers do, sifting through ashtrays and poking around the property to find evidence of narcotics. The raid led to trial and four months later Richards and Jagger were convicted and incarcerated. The police also walked away with a brand new, bright and shiny rumor to spread to the media.

It leaves one to wonder if perhaps the officers on site had seen one too many advertisements for the famous chocolate bar… the one that “fills that gap.”

Shame on you, boys.

 

My huge thanks to Prism Book Alliance for having me today, and a special thanks to you, my friends, for joining me. 😀

Until next time!

AF Henley <3

Excerpt:

For what seemed like the hundredth time, the traffic in front of Gerry Faun came to a slow-rolling halt. It was the rain doing the most damage, though the end of the workday was always ugly on the streets of New York City. Not that there were many pretty things on the street, regardless. Giuliani was trying, but the way Gerry had it figured, it was going to take more than a smile and a stand on graffiti and marijuana to clean up their kind of dirt. So while the rest of the city offered the mayor awe-induced stares of appreciation over recollections of Mafia Commission and Boesky trials, Gerry mostly sat back and speculated. When government officials got clever enough to stop assholes from blowing up pregnant secretaries and hard-working fathers, then they might actually get his attention. Until then, Gerry wasn’t putting any more trust in them than he would anybody else. He’d learned a long time ago that not all that glitters is worthy.

He was lost in thought enough not to acknowledge the tunnel. He was, in fact, well into it before he remembered to take off his sunglasses. He forgave himself the digression. It had been a long week. Though Gerry worked in the financial district, he was no more than a glorified yes-man for his boss, a real estate broker that had made a fuck-ton of money in the eighties, and was merely coasting until the inevitable retirement. He ran errands and answered phones. He took messages, and booked flights that he was more than sure did not drop Mr. David Manon in places of business. He made reservations in exclusive restaurants, paid Mr. Manon’s membership fees for a gym the man never went to, and bought Manon’s anniversary and birthday gifts for the wife-of-the-moment. Gerry had a flair for it, or so his boss would tell him whenever the requirement came up, and Gerry was cocky enough to verbally agree with Manon every time. Damn right he was good at it.

Tail lights suddenly flared in front of him and Gerry cursed and slammed his brake pedal down. His eyes flicked between windshield and rearview, assessing space and distance, and he blew a sigh of relief when he confirmed that the guy behind him had been paying more attention than he’d been. Maybe it really was time to give up the car.

He’d heard it a thousand times from friends, family, and casual observers: public transport would not only save him money, but they swore up and down it would save him time. God knew gasoline was getting more expensive by the day, and parking costs in the district were insane. Gerry considered it pretty much every time the numbers went up on the billboards beside the gas stations. One day he would, he’d tell himself. One day for sure. When he could convince himself that walking the six blocks from the bus stop in Jersey’s bitter January winds wouldn’t be as appealing as slitting his own throat with barbed wire. When he got over his control issues.

The side road whereby Gerry’s rental home waited for his return was already jammed with cars, so instead of parking on the street, Gerry carefully worked his 1984 Buick into the tiny concrete pad that served as his driveway. He nudged the car as close to the house as it would go, wincing when the fender butted against the foundation and the ancient bow window above him shook with disapproval. While some of the properties on the street had given up parking for an attempt at a front lawn, Gerry couldn’t see the point of bothering to maintain a six-by-eight square of greenery and have to fight for a place to park every day. Besides, what was the point? In the summer everything got so damn hot that his neighbors’ plants and grass got their lives choked out of them. In the winter, anything that had managed to get a hold on the Earth was quickly destroyed by the cold and the snow.

Looking, he was sure, about as sexy as a maggot trying to escape from a nostril, Gerry inched out from between his car and the base of the entranceway steps. His suit wasn’t worth that much, but it was worth too much to go rubbing it up against rain-mucked concrete or the wet door of a car that hadn’t seen an auto-wash in months. His breath puffed out from between his lips, the rain making October that much colder, and Gerry lifted his eyes to the sky. Dark, ominous clouds roiled in the gray heavens, and Gerry had serious doubts that the light rainfall was all the skies had in store for them.

In the second it took for Gerry to muse, a deep rumble of thunder broke, a distant sheet of lightning answered the call with a flare of brilliance, and the drizzle became a downpour. Without bothering to spit out the curse on his tongue, Gerry ran for the front door. The porch roof did nothing to protect him as the rain whipped against his back and legs, and he had to seat the key twice before it finally dug in and allowed him to open the door.

Dripping, mumbling, Gerry slammed the door behind him with a definitive clunk and flicked the deadbolt. He kicked off his shoes, sighing as small rivers of water raced across the lopsided flooring of the hallway, and he began to peel off of his wet clothes right where he stood. He might as well only drown one part of the house, and at least that particular location was vinyl tile. Most of the house had decades-old carpeting that, when wet, released all kinds of odors. None of them good.

With his wet clothes piled in his arms, Gerry stepped gingerly down the narrow hallway, and ducked into the bathroom. He dumped the armload into the tub, and grabbed a towel off the rack.

He didn’t pause to look in the mirror and fix his hair. The cut was short, short enough in fact that he barely had to brush it, and that always seemed to make his sister chuckle when she saw him. There was a time when God himself wouldn’t have been able to get him to cut his hair—when the arguments with his parents would grow to screaming matches over the bangs in his face and the uneven lengths that fell past his collar. But everybody grew up. Eventually.

About the Author:

AF Henley AvatarHenley was born with a full-blown passion for run-on sentences, a zealous indulgence in all words descriptive, and the endearing tendency to overuse punctuation. Since the early years Henley has been an enthusiastic writer, from the first few I-love-my-dog stories to the current leap into erotica.

A self-professed Google genius, Henley lives for the hours spent digging through the Internet for ‘research purposes’ which, more often than not, lead seven thousand miles away from first intentions but bring Henley to new discoveries and ideas that, once seeded, tend to flourish.

Henley has been proudly working with LT3 since 2012, and has been writing like mad ever since—an indentured servant to the belief that romance and true love can mend the most broken soul. Even when presented in prose.

Author Links:

Website: http://afhenley.com/

Amazon Page: http://www.amazon.com/A.-F.-Henley/e/B00FIODWSK/

Publisher’s Page: http://www.lessthanthreepress.com/author-a-f-henley/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AFHenley

Twitter: http://twitter.com/AFHenley

Buy Links:

Less Than Three Press
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
All Romance eBooks

Giveaway:

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Baby's on Fire Blog Tour Header

Farewell Giveaway
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.

Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,

Brandilyn
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Prism Book Alliance® assumes no liability for the ownership of photos or content used in guest posts and interviews.  The post author assumes all responsibility and liability for this content.

26 thoughts on “A.F. Henley on Baby’s on Fire and Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithful – the Mars Bar Incident ~ Excerpt, Guest Blog, Rafflecopter Giveaway NSFW 18+

  1. This blog tour is so great! I’m learning so many weird facts!! I think the one today is especially great and the head line “Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithful – the Mars Bar Incident” fabulous!!

    ShirleyAnn(at)speakman40(dot)freeserve(dot)co(dot)uk

    • Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying 😀

      One thing I most certainly learned during my research (although the suspicion was already there) is that people’s imaginations make far more–hmm, is entertaining the correct word?–stories than the truth. Unfortunately.

  2. I was quirking my eyebrow all the way up until… “It leaves one to wonder if perhaps the officers on site had seen one too many advertisements for the famous chocolate bar… the one that ‘fills that gap.’ Shame on you, boys.”

    I laughed so hard I made myself sweat, and I just got out of the shower. Yup. Thank you, Henley. 🙂 <3

    I don't care how high someone can be on LSD, but a Snickers Bar up a place it has no business going? Ew. I think even for a food fetish that's just… O.o… Whoooooo-ah.

    *flicks finger back and forth between self and everybody else* We all know the logistics of this is bogus. Just bogus. That's going to be one melted mess, and not in a good way. And I'm way over thinking this.

    I'm so glad I don't like Snickers to begin with. Thank the gods… XD

    Thanks you for the post. <3 <3

  3. LOL – thanks for starting my morning with a laugh. Loved that Keith Richards that that the police officers there to arrest him were “very small people wearing dark blue with shiny bits and helmets.” And the whole Mars bar deal – Ewwww – but funny. Thanks for the great tour.

    • Thank you so much, Jen! Keith Richards never fails to amuse, that’s for sure. Any man that can inspire Jack Sparrow’s characterizations obviously has a some interesting quirks. XD

  4. Speaking from experience, mars bars have a weird way of getting into places.

    Like this one time, I found one in my mouth and ate it.

    Now, admittedly waking up to find chocolate in your mouth (while not unpleasant) should have been more disconcerting but….again chocolate.

    Still have no idea how it got there. And I can’t even blame it on LSD.

    Then there was that chocolate…toy shaped item…also ate that one didn’t use. I’m beginning to realize that chocolate and I have a very weird relationship.
    *grabs bag of chocolate chips*

  5. I had time to prepare myself for that, thanks for the hints. I was looking to be a bit scandalized and somewhat was. I mean really, why do that to the poor candy bar, lol.

    Great post, it definitely had me amused.

    • LOL! I’m pretty sure the candy bar wasn’t used for anything more than a candy bar should be, but hey, who really knows the truth? XD

      Glad you enjoyed! Thank you very much for reading and commenting. 😀

  6. I am so thoroughly enjoying this tour! It gives me a little bit of fun each day! I really appreciate all the research, work and time that each post has taken.

    Thank yo so much!

    • Thank YOU Ree Dee! I’m having a great time reading everyone’s reactions. 😀

      And I sincerely appreciate you joining in on the fun with us. <3

  7. Hilarious post! 😀

    Those kinds of rumors are an absolute classic! 😀 I would have been surprised if, in those crazy times, not at least one was connected with something like this! XD

    But the police making this up?! That is a new one, I guess. 😀 Shame on you indeed, boys! Shame that you wasted your talents on working for law enforcement. You guys should have written books! XD

    Priceless post, buddy! 😀 Your blog tour is – again – awesome! 😀

  8. Ha! It doesn’t offend me at all, whether true or false. And that’s one of the least weird food item stories I’ve seen. If true, at least that one would seem to be fairly easily released. 😉

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