I HAVE THE WONDERFUL MIKE ARSUAGA IN THE HOUSE TODAY!!!

Yeah, that's right, I have my darlin' hubby in the crib today. The third book in his Subspecies World Series is officially released from MuseItHotPublishing today! He'll share an excerpt and cover art later. But, first I've got him in the hot seat to answer a few questions. And I promise to be gentle. NOT!

CYNTHIA:  Okay, Mike, I'll keep everything simple at first. If the world were to end tomorrow, what three things would be on your bucket list?

MIKE:  Travel to Mars, meet Queen Elizabeth, and be with my loved ones at the end.

CYNTHIA:  Ahhh, I love you too. As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

MIKE:  A cross between Douglas McArthur and Captain Video.

CYNTHIA:  A military player. Hmm, I can see that even today. Now, something writing related. Are there any authors who have influenced your work?

MIKE:  Yes. HG Wells, George Orwell, and Harold Robbins

CYNTHIA: Yep, they're some of my favorites too. Guess that's why we get along. Same interests and all. Okay, I digressed there. If one of your books became a movie, which celebrities would you like to star as your main characters?

MIKE:  In the Subspecies series Jim and Sam would have to be Alex O’Loughlin (Hawaii Five O) and Amy Adams (Enchanted).

CYNTHIA:  I can definitely see that and agree.  If you came with a warning label, what would it say? Oh, I know this one. LOL

MIKE:  Subject to rapid evaporation in hostile environment.

CYNTHIA:  Um, where did that come from? Really? Fooled me.  Here's another one.  If you had to choose one person to have dinner with, who would it be? And why?

MIKE:  H.G. Wells I’d ask him for the back story behind classics like The Time Machine and War of the Worlds.

CYNTHIA:  I could go with entertaining him too. Did I digress again? Sorry. Back to your writing.  What comes first for you: Setting? Storyline? Characters?

MIKE:  Storyline is always first. Characters derive from that.

CYNTHIA:  Me too.  What main genre do you write in? And oh I definitely know the answer to this one, but go ahead, tell everyone.

MIKE:  Erotic paranormal romances so far. I’m looking hard at steampunk and science fiction.

CYNTHIA:  See I told you I knew the answer. I can't wait to read the steampunk story. If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

MIKE:  Not really. All the changes and associated angst come during editing. Having said that, there are changes I’d make to my first book Subspecies.

CYNTHIA:  I wouldn't change anything about them. What inspired your latest release?

MIKE:  Children of Subspecies is the third installment of the series. This one grew out of the first two as a natural extension.

CYNTHIA:  Getting close, hang in there.  What do you have coming next? Anything you want to tell us?

MIKE:  With the five book Subspecies series “completed” I’m working on an anthology of short stories and novellas to fill in the character’s back stories.

CYNTHIA:  I think that is great. I hope you'll sell it and readers will be able to get a little more detail on the series.  Do you have any suggestions for beginning writers? If so, what are they?

MIKE:  I’m a beginning writer myself. The only advice I feel safe giving is to follow submission instructions TO THE LETTER.

CYNTHIA:  Always great advice and I agree wholeheartedly. Well, this is the last question, Mike. What else would you like readers to know about you or your work?

MIKE:  The Tenth Legion and Lagrange Point the last two installments release in February and May of 2012. Before the Dynasty-like saga ends, The Subspecies (lycans and vampires) explore space, colonize Mars, travel in time and learn their part in Creation’s plan.

CYNTHIA: The last two are my personal favorites. Can't wait to see how the edits go on those. I think they are some of your best writing, not that the others aren't, but I like the story-line on them.

Okay, you're not off the hook yet. I have some quick answer choices next. You ready? Let's go.

Leather or lace?

Leather

Long or short hair?

You ask a career military guy this? Short of course for men midback long for women.

Fruity drink or strong liquor?

Strong liquor although I’m actually a chardonnay guy.

Jeans or skirt?

Skirts don’t flatter my butt, so it has to be jeans.

(Good answer, although you do have nice legs.)

Coffee or tea?

Coffee

Glamorous girl or girl next door?

Neither. The girl I’m living with, if you please.

Picky eater or adventurous?

Adventurous

Glamorous makeup or au naturale?

A blend in between.

Sexy bed-head or sophisticated coif?

Sexy bed-head

Yes or no: Does size matter?

Depends what you’re talking about, but if I correctly interpreted the thrust of the question, size doesn’t matter if you know how to use what you have correctly.

That's it, Mike. You did good and I didn't make it too rough, I hope. I want to thank you for stopping by and being such a good sport and supporting your "bestest" girl by honoring me by guesting on my blog. 

Now for the part everyone would like to see, an excerpt from Children of Subspecies. Take it away, the crib is yours.

Thanks Cynthia. I did enjoy my time here. Here's a short blurb of my latest, followed by an excerpt.

Children of Subspecies Book 3 in The Subspecies Series
A Novel by Mike Arsuaga
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
Release: December 30, 2011
Editor: Ashley Christman
Line editor: Greta Gunselman
Cover Designer: Delilah K. Stephans
Words: 82187
Pages: 226
ISBN: 978-1-927361-62-7
Price: $5.95
Back Cover:
With the corporation rapidly ascending to world prominence under Samantha’s leadership, life looks good for her and the family. The majority of the Subspecies live in peace with humans, helping to rehabilitate the few remaining Ferals. The family boasts five healthy intelligent children, but from under the surface of this bright picture emerges the chilling reality they are developing like humans and will not emerge to be lycans or vampires. Most disturbing of all they’ll have normal human life spans, a third of their parents’. Growing to adulthood, each child faces the issue in his or her own way. Sam’s protégé Cynthia, world famous as a fashion model actress and philanthropist, appears on any list of the most beautiful women who ever lived. She would trade it all to have children. Her wish is granted in a sadly left-handed way while humanity experiences the greatest crisis in its history. Will the Whites, the corporation, and the Subspecies prevail over economic collapse and worldwide plague? Will the Subspecies die out as their hybrid children show none of their parents’ traits? Sam’s previously unshakable faith in the destiny of subspecies meets its greatest test.

Excerpt:

A little over a week later, Sam found Beatie asleep at the sewing machine in the middle of a half-finished pile of mending. “Jim, come quickly.”

By the time I arrived, Beatie was awake. My heart stopped at seeing the flush of her face. “I’m really hot, Daddy.”

“Me, too.” Louie’s shadow fell over us as he entered the room. A sheen of perspiration covered his face.

We took no chances. The option of driving to the downtown clinic no longer existed. As a 2026 survivor I barricaded in with them. We activated The Orwell. Through it, we could keep in touch. I set up beds in Beatrice’s room, wrapping the children tightly in covers so only their heads showed. In twelve hours we confirmed they caught the disease. For two days I watched their flushed faces toss and turn through alternating bouts of fever and chills. Sam left meals along with whatever else I requested in Louie’s room. After she left I retrieved the items. In this way we hoped to maintain some measure of quarantine. When not tending the children or collapsed in brief, fitful sleep, I shifted from room to room on The Orwell. The small web-cam images of Sam and the triplets provided a tenuous link with the outside. On the second day, my heart stopped when Sam reported fatigue accompanied by a slight fever. Thankfully it passed, or maybe the brush was all 2026 could do to her.

The twins watched me while remaining dreadfully quiet. I couldn’t hide the truth. They’d seen others grow sick and die.

In my befuddled exhaustion, I believed they blamed me. I fed them broths, the only nourishment they could keep down, along with whatever medicine we had for the symptoms. We prayed they could outlast the disease. After thirty-six hours the medicine stopped working. Only ice or cold water reduced the fever. We tapped out the neighborhood supply of ice. They left it at our doorstep, as we earlier did for them.

Forty-eight hours after the first symptoms came the moment anyone who ever sat with a victim of 2026 dreads. It is the inexplicable lucidity and energy near the end. Beatrice sat up in bed. The fever eased, allowing her eyes to clear some. The covers wrapped her body like a mummy.

“I love you, Daddy.” The exhausted but clear voice broke my heart. I embraced the damp tight wrappings and the sweet girl they contained. Memories of standing in a bright, sterile hospital operating room watching her entry into a secure world tore into me. Holding her I felt somehow I failed to maintain it for her, together with all the other innocents who died. “Don’t be sad because soon I’ll be with God.” The brown eyes never left my face. “I’ll save you a place in Heaven.”

I held her to my chest until the end, when I felt the last labored rustle of her dear little heart. For once I hated having the enhanced senses of a subspecies. Through The Orwell I saw my cry of grief bring the house to a stop. Everyone knew what happened. They stood motionless, scattered through every corner. Slowly they gathered in the family room. Sam sat at the sewing machine where she and Beatie shared so many enjoyable hours in their newly discovered mutual interest. All I saw was the top of her head resting on the table and heard the inconsolable cries.

An hour later, Louie followed his sister. “Don’t feel bad, Daddy. You did all you could.” Then, he closed his eyes for the last time. While I held him, a small flash of color caught my eye. Outside his bedroom window, the birdhouse he brought the day I left the hospital hung by fishing line from a branch. Suspended, it rotated slowly in the bright daylight, north, northeast, east…

MEET THE AUTHOR

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