All Posts By

Jay E. Tria

Writing Now

Daily Grind #10: #ChokieHazelKnot

There is a light so blinding that it takes what it shouldn’t and leaves me with burns on my skin, angry lashes on the ground, trenches on the earth, ashes in its wake. Pieces of my heart left shattered and broken, my soul left in deep shadow.

And then there is you. You are a star, bright and warm. Like the sun at dawn, that haunting time when its rays pierces the clouds and chases the night away. When its heat hovers over the earth, warm and loving in its embrace, its light making prisms out of dewfalls, touching tears in my eyes. Everything is full of promise.

You are the sun, a star, bright and warm and everlasting, and your warmth feels like home.

 

 

***

November 25, 2017, Chokie and Aze for the prompt.

Writing Now

Daily Grind #9: Roses in the Rain

Today was kinder than the day before. There was more cloud than sun, but the sky was not without light. The wind not without heat. The kind that hovers over your skin and grazes the crook of your nose and lights up the ends of your fingertips. There is a song playing inside your head. Over and over. You sing along with a smile in your eyes, ready to gift to a stranger. You imagine dancing like you don’t care who sees. But you don’t do it.

Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow will be even better than the day before. You look up as the clouds hug the sun and rain meets the ground, soft as a memory.

 

 

 

 

October 13 for the prompt.

Writing Now

Daily Grind #8: Math

When asymptotes fall in love, how tragic. Two lines coming closer and closer and never meeting. He leaps out of the graph and finds the angle that computes you. Adds his devotion, undivided attention. Affection is irrational, the limit does not exist. But only for today. Tomorrow it’s a new page. You add your fears, his time is halved. Multiply love by the power of all the things you should have done. Two lines collide then come apart, asymptotes to the end. Never to meet again.

***

The problem with love is that the equation is never balanced.

 

 

 

 

October 12 for the prompt.

Writing Now

New Book! You Out of Nowhere from #romanceclassFlair

This book is the output of awesome team work and lots of feelings. #romanceclassFlair is a new imprint, an ongoing project, backed by a team of super talented people. I’m so happy/thrilled/grateful they took a chance on me and my babies. We’ve been working on this book for months and finally, finally it’s here omg yay! Here’s what it’s all about:

At 31, Kris’s dating life is starting to resemble a reality show. So when she strikes up a conversation with a nerdy but gorgeous stranger on the train, getting serious is the last thing on her mind. Been there, done that, and she has the emotional baggage to prove it.

At 24, Ringo knows what he wants—and when a train flirtation turns into a night he can’t forget, he knows he wants Kris. But it’s clear she has other plans, and they don’t include him. So when they find themselves on the same flight to Seoul, it’s Ringo’s chance to turn up the heat, and convince Kris to take a risk.

In a new city, with someone new—the right someone—what could change? Maybe nothing. But also, maybe everything.

It’s older girl, younger guy steamy romance. Train meet-cute, accidental travel buddies. Manila to Seoul and back. A trip (and a person) that might just change everything.

I hope I got all your trigger words 😀

Join the blog tour if you want to help spread the word? You can sign up here. Form closes today, October 31.

Pre-order link is up too! One-click here please and thank you. Ebook is only $1.99 until November 17 << coincidentally my birthday hehe happy birthday to me~ 🙂

About FLAIR

FLAIR (or #romanceclassFlair) is a new, ongoing project and it’ll bring you steamy contemporary romance (in English) by Filipino authors. There are four new titles from four different #romanceclass authors about to be released, and these books will be unapologetically sexy. What can you expect from Flair? HEAs, Filipino characters, fresh telling of familiar tropes, lots of heat.

Flair is not a publisher, but there is a single Flair team that is working with the authors on all the books. The team is composed of #romanceclass community authors, readers, editors, designers. Follow Romanceclass Books on FBromanceclassbooks on IG, and #romanceclass on Twitter to get the updates!

Credits to Tara Frejas for the graphics 🙂

Writing Now

Daily Grind #7: Crying in Public

There is a light somewhere that flickers before it bursts into flame. Wildfire. It consumes and it hurts worse than darkness. You walk half a mile seeking escape, but the voices follow. Nagging. Relentless. You lay down and breathe in and out. In and out. ‘Listen to the sound of your breathing,’ she says. ‘Throw everything else away. Focus on mindfulness.’ ‘Isn’t that redundant?’ you think. But that’s a thought about words again, isn’t it? And you need to throw that away. At least right now, in this slow, short hour. In this quiet room full of strangers each carrying their own burden. Breathe in. Breathe out. Your body is a tight ball, your mind unraveling. Everything is a fight and you figure, this time, winning is in losing.  Breathe in, twist this way. Stretch out. Ease. Ease. Ease. You feel the warm floor beneath you, the sharpness of your elbows against your ribs, the feel of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. It’s salty. How strange. Twist this way, grow long like so. Close your eyes. Reach out, expand. You will win only if you keep up the fight. Open your eyes. The darkness will not hurt this time.

 

 

 

 

Stress Free Gentle Flow, 10/8/17 for the prompt.

Writing Now

Daily Grind #6: Yes

“Your shower isn’t working.”

“It is! Let me–”

“No! I mean I can figure this out.”

“Are you sure?” The sound of knuckles light against the door. “You pull and twist to the left for warm water–”

“Got it. I’m fine!”

If he had said anything else you didn’t hear it, not with the rush of water from the shower. His shower. His bathroom. His house and last night his bed. Why? You asked yourself again, flattening your forehead against the wall as warm water fell and wrapped around you like an overwhelming hug. “Why?” This time out loud and with a little groan trapped in your throat.

You made a grab for the shampoo–his shampoo–and started slathering it through your hair. It smelled of mint and something else, something sharp yet sweet. It smelled like him, and his pillows and his sheets. You laughed, you couldn’t help it. This was so absurd. He was your friend, had been for a quite some time. Friends don’t sleep together. You didn’t do that. Not this. Whatever this was.

You weren’t even drunk last night. Neither was he, though that was a rule he’d always had. To not drink beyond a bottle or two when he’s with you, because he was always insisting on driving you home.

Last night didn’t feel any different from all the other times you spent together. It was a movie night this time. You dragged him to watch this hyped up indie romcom, then you had dinner and drinks after. The two of you talked, you more so than him at first. He liked asking questions better, he’s always said, and hearing your answers. Well last night you wanted answers too, so you started asking, teasing. Why aren’t you dating these days? Or are you? Who is she? What are you not telling me? And then he kissed you, so slowly, so deeply, and when his fingers clasped your jaw and you kissed him back you knew the answers were right there.

His soap had the same scent as his shampoo. You were sure to smell like him once you stepped out of his bathroom. You were sure to bring the scent of him home. You turned off the shower–no trouble this time–and reached for the towel, fluffy and white, freshly-laundered from the feel of it. Brought out just for you, you knew.

This wasn’t just panic you were feeling. You realized this as you put last night’s clothes back on. It was the weight of a bigger question, one neither of you had asked before. He must have never asked because he knew you weren’t ready. And you never asked because he was the warmest person you knew, the kindest, the most sincere, the most willing to watch your romcoms with you and bring you pizza and take you to the doctor when you wouldn’t go by yourself and just always be there, you didn’t even need to ask. And you yourself knew you weren’t ready, because you feared you weren’t worthy.

You’re just going to go, you decided, staring yourself down in the mirror. There was no time to even dry your hair. You better leave now. He might have more things to ask and you just didn’t have any of the answers.

You shuffled out of the bathroom, meaning to grab your bag from his room and call out your goodbye from the door. The smell wafting from the kitchen stopped you mid-step. What is that? Is it–? No. He wouldn’t. It’s too perfect.

Your body had turned of its own accord to the direction of the kitchen. He was walking toward you, apron tied around his trim waist, spatula in one hand. One eyebrow lifted, one corner of his mouth pulled up, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. Like he was saying you getting away with it.

“Hey.” He bent over and his lips brushed against yours. It felt familiar, and right, even more so than it did last night. It felt like the promise of so much more.

“Thanks, um, I–” You were stammering, dear god. Get it together, self. This wasn’t a stranger. This was a man you knew.

What was the question again?

His hand found your elbow, then his arm slid around your waist. “We’re having pancakes, okay? You like pancakes, don’t you?”

He was leading you onward, away from escape, but in small, slow steps. No rush. He was always like this, wasn’t he? Always asking, gently prodding. Never impatient for the answer.

“I’m making coffee,” you burst out. “Because we both know you suck at it.”

“Yes, please.” He laughed and put the hand with the spatula up in mock surrender. His other hand stayed secure on your waist. “You know I need you.”

In a spark of comprehension, you did. You were the one he dragged into his football games, until after watching just once you proclaimed yourself his number one fan and he couldn’t get rid of you if he tried. You brought him coffee and loved his dog and indulged his irrational book hoarding behavior. You were there for him too, always. He never needed to ask.

Maybe this was the right question after all. Maybe the answer had always been there.

“Okay, coffee. I got you,” you said. You wrapped one arm around his waist, and another. This hug, his embrace felt overwhelming, but also perfect and yours. “Yes to pancakes.”

 

 

 

 

***

White Night and the slumber party that followed for the prompt.