My name is Toby Aden and I am an author of MM Romance. I usually write in the paranormal or contemporary genre.
Want to know a little about me?
I’m a voracious reader. Well, to be honest, a lot of authors are readers but I really love it. Could make a career out of it, hahaha. Anyways, I got I to reading books at a very young age, beginning with sci-fi, the Harry Potter Chronicles, Journey to the end of the world, Hamlet, any and everything I could get my hands on then I moved on to romance and fell in love with Historical romance. I love me a good timepiece, intrigued by the lifestyle of it all. Now, I’m a writer. And yes, I absolutely love it!
I’ll tell you this when I first debuted my first book The Vampire King’s Mate, I never really expected the reaction I got to it. It really moved me to realize just how much it was loved. And even then, I did think of it as a one-time thing but as requests for a sequel came in, I began loving the idea of writing more in the vampire series and I did just that, feeling very blessed when the reaction was also positive. And the rest, as they say, is history.
What inspired you to start writing?
I love books. I love how it takes you into an entirely different world and you can experience what the characters are feeling and going through. I love the way books challenges our imagination and I wanted to try pouring out what was in my head on paper. So I did just that.
What advice would you give a new writer just starting out?
Write, write, write and keep writing. Doesn’t matter how many rejections you get. So long as you maintain your passion, it’ll happen.
How do you come up with the titles to your books?
Sometimes, I use a title even before beginning the writing. Other times, after I’m done, a title comes to mind and I use it. With The Vampire King’s Mate, I chose the title before I started writing since it spoke to me.
What is the hardest part about writing for you?
Editing and reviewing what I write. Somehow, I can never seem to bring myself to fully read over what I write and its not only fiction. It applies to almost everything in my life.
What do you like to do when you are not writing?
Reading, watching movies, listening to music, baking, lots of stuff.
“I never thought it possible to feel an attraction for anyone.”
I’m an artist and I have a new contract with The Golden Gallery. I’ve got best friends who get me and my jokes and a family who supports and loves me. What more could I possibly want or need? I have it all except, I just don’t know what it means to be in love. I’ve never experienced it nor been attracted to anyone in my life. I don’t think it’s a bad thing and despite the fact that most people prefer to slot me into the ace spectrum, I don’t necessarily see myself in that category. I am happy the way I am, content even or at least, I tell myself that, shoving away the idea that there’s something wrong with me.
“I never thought I’d ever be attracted to a man.”
You probably know me as the Billionaire Playboy. I come from generations of old money and started my first business venture at age nineteen. The Golden Gallery was my baby and I watched it grow into a huge success all over the world. The first time I set eyes on Xavier Fernando, my world was rocked and turned upside down. I couldn’t get him out of my mind and I tried to write it off as being impressed by his genius skills as an artist. It worked too until we bumped into each other again, literally, and the same heady feeling came over me. In an attempt to understand why I was feeling this way, I decided to get closer to Xavier, and to know the man behind the art.
Check out my book The Billionaire Playboy I the first in the Trilogy and GET THE AUTOGRAPHED PAPERBACK COPY FROM MY WEBSITE at; www.tobyaden.wix.com/author/online-store
Excerpt from Billionaire Playboy I
I had no idea how long I’d stood there peering at the collection, lost in my own world, when a voice spoke from behind me. I was greatly startled and jumped slightly before spinning around to see who it was. I had been unprepared for the sight which greeted me as well as the strange feeling that flitted through me too quickly for me to pinpoint or even recognize.
With my throat dry, the only thing I’d been able to whisper was, “What?”
“I said beautiful art,” the stranger repeated, nodding towards the piece I was standing in front of.
The stranger peered back at me from eyes so golden it was a shock, as I’d never seen eyes this color before. They were framed with dark long lashes most women would kill for, which only served to further highlight his features. With a head full of lush, dark, sable locks, high cheekbones, a strongly cut jaw, and regal nose set into the face staring back at me, I was completely lost in his stare.
The stranger was dressed almost like me in plush, ash cashmere, turtleneck, high enough to be folded down over his neck and hug his skin, without an inch of skin showing there. Unlike me though he wore form hugging, dark jeans and a long below-the-knee length, blue casual coat. Even to me who had never found the human form particularly pleasing before, the stranger cut a striking look. As I trailed my eyes back up his body, I was surprised to see him staring back at me, one brow cocked upwards. It was then I realized he’d spoken to me, and I’d been staring rudely at him, without responding, and he’d obviously caught me at it too.
“Oh. Oh, yes.” I turned to face said piece and together, we both stood there, neither saying a word until curiosity made me inquire, “What do you see when you look at it? What do you feel?”
“Well, looking at it, I can see it was very beautifully done.” The stranger said and I was unsure as to whether he was teasing or mocking. Then he continued, “It reminds me of an old Indian story about an older Indian Chief who told his grandson, ‘Kid! We have two wolves within our hearts. One wolf is evil with rage, envy, jealousy, arrogance, and inferiority. The other one is a good wolf. He brings with him fullness, peace, love, hope, and beliefs. These two wolves are always in battle within us.’ The grandson then asked his grandfather, ‘Grandfather, which wolf wins then?’ And the grandfather responded, ‘The one you are feeding the food to.’”
“I know the story,” I said with a nod.
“Fair enough. Then you recognize the significance of it in this piece. Although the artist truly outdid himself making the piece look so real, as though the story could come alive any minute.” The stranger took a sip from his wineglass, stared at me with a contemplative look in his eyes, before turning back to the serial pieces arranged together, but still showcased in a way that displayed the individualistic trait of each work. “That’s not all though, as it’s seen as only one point of view. If you take a careful look around, you realize the art shows two sides of a coin. As though each side could be alluring but with one final deciding factor. The one each scene highlights. There’s light and darkness, trust and despair, joy and pain, each side tells a story. But which story is the most influential and which is ruthlessly locked away despite how alluring, how easy or hard it would be to listen, to give in.”
I sucked in a deep breath as the stranger succinctly described the scene to me, seeing the picture of what he was saying so clearly in my mind. Biting my lips, I turned to face him, respect and awe in my gaze as I allowed his words to sink in. “You saw all that?”
When he nodded, I swallowed, impressed as hell. “You really got what I was trying to say. Right down to the last minuscule of it too. I haven’t met any here tonight who got it in one go.” I stared at the stranger for a while, suddenly besieged by an emotion once more which I couldn’t place.
“You’re the artist?” The stranger asked, letting me know he hadn’t missed my word.
“Yeah,” I responded, saying nothing else as we both stood, peering at each other. My stare soon turned into a frown though and when I realized, I shook my head and extended my hand towards him, “I’m Xavier. Xavier Fernando.”
When he took my hand in a handshake, I was surprised to feel a tingle go through my body and quickly yanked my hand back from his. I stared down at the offending appendage, wondering what that had been. I turned my hand over and over, staring at my palm and the back of my hand but there was nothing there, shaking my head, I thought it must have been my imagination and soon forgot all about it.
It was then I realized I wasn’t alone and the stranger was staring at me peculiarly. God, I must have looked like someone who was nuts to him, well, at least he hadn’t walked away. I could already see steam pouring out of the usually unflappable Brant if I lost a potential buyer by acting like someone who was bonkers.
Although I couldn’t help being flustered, I drew myself to my full height, ignoring the blush of embarrassment which was no doubt high on my cheekbones. “I’m Xavier Fernando.”
“I know. You already said.”
I was taken aback by his word then left more flustered. “Oh, I uh… yeah, that’s me. Xavier, you know, the artist.” Inside, I was yelling at myself shut up, shut up, shut up. Where was the earth when I needed it to swallow me?
“I don’t think it’s a good thing to be wishing for though. It would be such a waste with a talent like yours,” the stranger said, amusement coloring his words and when I looked at him in confusion, he added, “The earth swallowing and all, you know.”
I stared at the stranger, my jaw dropping, and heat climbing faster into my face. Palming said face in both hands, I shook my head, “Mortified. I’m completely mortified, and I cannot believe I said that out loud.”
The stranger threw his head back at my antics and let loose a full belly laugh, the sound so intriguing, I was unable to stop myself from peeking from between my fingers at him. Slowly, I let my hands fall down away from my face and stared at him openly, as though he was a work of interesting colors I was trying to blend and decipher. We’d attracted some attention from other patrons, but neither of us seemed to care about that.
“Your mind’s very interesting, Xavier. May I call you Xavier?”
I nodded in response to his question then said, “That’s what you think.”
“Well, I’ve been thoroughly entertained all the same,” the stranger said, “And you can call me Andre. Andre Toma…”
“Tomasine!” I cried in surprise, shocked I hadn’t immediately recognized one of the Tomasines and had made a fool of myself in front of him too. God, I hissed under my breath. Could things get worse than this? “I didn’t recognize you. I’m such an idiot. Excuse me while I go bash my head on the wall somewhere private.”
“Not on my account, please don’t.”
You can find Toby here