Lisa Worrall's Blog, page 15
July 4, 2014
RE-RELEASE DAY FOR GOING UNDER!
Now available at Totally Bound - get your copy HERE
BLURB:
Battered by unseen forces, Evan Griffin finally seeks help. Paranormal investigator Ross Stone is captivated. Dare he get close to Evan when he’s fighting his own demons?
Evan Griffin moved into his remote country house with all the excitement and promise of a new start... until the strange noises began. When the ghostly attacks become physical, he is left bruised and battered and desperate for help.When Evan walks into the offices of paranormal investigators, Knight & Stone,
Ross Stone is dumbfounded by the injuries the man bears. Injuries Evan
insists were caused by an unseen assailant in his own home. Something in
the man's eyes tugs at Ross' heartstrings. Does he dare risk getting close
to Evan when Ross is fighting his own demons?Reader Advisory: This books contains scenes of violence and references
to past abuse.Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher.
It has been considerably expanded, revised and re-edited for release with
Totally Bound Publishing.
BLURB:Battered by unseen forces, Evan Griffin finally seeks help. Paranormal investigator Ross Stone is captivated. Dare he get close to Evan when he’s fighting his own demons?
Evan Griffin moved into his remote country house with all the excitement and promise of a new start... until the strange noises began. When the ghostly attacks become physical, he is left bruised and battered and desperate for help.When Evan walks into the offices of paranormal investigators, Knight & Stone,
Ross Stone is dumbfounded by the injuries the man bears. Injuries Evan
insists were caused by an unseen assailant in his own home. Something in
the man's eyes tugs at Ross' heartstrings. Does he dare risk getting close
to Evan when Ross is fighting his own demons?Reader Advisory: This books contains scenes of violence and references
to past abuse.Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher.
It has been considerably expanded, revised and re-edited for release with
Totally Bound Publishing.
July 3, 2014
THE LAST TRAIN HOME - JAE JENSEN
The Last Train Home, my forage into MF by my alter ego Jae J Jensen, has a shiny new cover by the uber-talented Book Covers by Design and is available at Amazon for $0.99!
BLURB:
Casual hook-ups are not Katherine's usual modus operandi. She's level headed, confident and definitely not into throwing caution, and her knickers, to the wind.
However, when the last train becomes the stranded in a pitch black tunnel train, she finds herself alone in the dark with a gorgeous stranger, who makes her an offer she ought to, but can't refuse.
GET YOUR COPY HERE
EXCERPT:
For what must have been the hundredth time, Katherine wished she hadn't agreed to work late, not this late, anyway. The entire office was in chaos, trying to get everything ready for the new boss's arrival. Katherine worked for the head of Sales and Marketing at Thacker, Wright & Grant one of the largest advertising firms in the city, and he'd had her staying late every night this week to make sure all his files were complete. Every 'i' had to be double dotted and every 't' double crossed. Which is exactly what Jack Brody was, a double-crossing, ass-pinching, sleazy son of a bitch. Payroll had done the rounds earlier, and on opening her pay check she was furious to note he hadn't authorized the overtime she'd completed last month—and she knew why. The bastard had been given a written warning last week for his overtly tactile behaviour after she'd made a complaint to Human Resources about his wandering hands. She should have let the asshole present his files to the new VP in their original state—fucking slime-bag. The screen that had been indicating her train would be arriving in three minutes for the last ten mocked her, daring her to challenge its shitty information. She checked her watch, again. If she'd missed the last train home because of that dickhead she was going to be taking the taxi fare out of his ass with a well-placed Jimmy Choo. Speaking of Jimmy Choos, she was starting to get a little antsy in hers. The silence was deafening and, coupled with the flickering fluorescent lighting, she felt as though she'd stepped into a scene from An American Werewolf in London. Her gaze flitted around the platform, settling on the homeless person—she couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman from the generic ensemble of filthy overcoat and tattered beanie—curled up on a bench a few feet from her. She wanted to move away, but she also didn't want to make it obvious that's what she wanted to do. Shaking her head at her own reluctance to hurt the feelings of a sleeping tramp, she mentally cursed her mother and the good manners she'd insisted on instilling in her children.A loud rumbling from the yawning mouth of the tunnel began to build, and the draft created by the approaching locomotive snatched at her coat with icy fingers. Butterflies took flight in Katherine's belly as the roaring grew louder. She loved the sights and sounds of the train pulling into the station. The way the air seemed to be sucked out of the confined space and then pushed back in with a punch when the train burst forth from the darkness like a huge party favour blown between a giant's lips.Jesus—waxing a bit lyrical aren't we? You must be tired.Katherine ignored her inner voice as several carriages passed her before the train came to a stop. The doors opened and she stepped inside, looking around and finding she was alone. Thank God, the last thing she needed was some well-meaning fellow traveller pressing her for conversation. Settling on one of the seats, Katherine sighed heavily and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes and willing away the pressure of the day. The train's engine rumbled as it prepared to continue its journey and the warning buzzer for the doors let off its high pitched beep, signalling the last chance to get on."Fuck!"Katherine's eyes flew open at the expletive and she stared, open-mouthed, at the man who had just managed to squeeze through the doors and onto the car before they'd completely closed. His gaze immediately found hers and he sent her an apologetic smile, which she acknowledged with a brief twitch of her lips.Katherine couldn't believe he'd managed to get all his appendages inside before the train moved off. He probably used the same expertise it took to shoe horn himself into those jeans. The thought bounced around her skull before she could squash it, and she was mortified to note the playful smile on his face, as if she'd said the words out loud. The train jolted as it moved off and Katherine dropped her gaze to her clasped hands where they lay in her lap.Jesus, get a grip, Kathy. Anyone would think you'd never seen a hottie before.That in itself was true; but there was hot and then there was the man sitting across the carriage. Tall, very tall, she'd noticed that when he'd all but fallen onto the train. From the furtive glances she found herself unable to stop taking, she discovered he had dark, brooding eyes, aquiline nose and stubble shadowing his square jaw. His chiselled features could have made him appear hard, if it weren't for his lips. She risked another peak from beneath her lashes. They were full, pouty and looked so soft, for a split-second she wondered how they would feel on her skin. Along with how his black hair would look in contrast with her pale flesh as he slid his tongue down her belly and— Katherine Russell what on earth are you doing? Do you need me to remind you you're a nice girl?No—she didn't need reminding, but the frisson of excitement sliding down her spine when he turned his dark gaze away from the window and onto her, suggested a bit of a nudge might be a good idea. Of course, if he'd stop sending her toe-curling glances, that would probably help. How long has it been since we saw any action that didn't involve alcohol wipes or, God forbid, the replacement of triple A's at pivotal moments?Katherine's cheeks flushed with warmth at the memory. That was definitely one of her lower points, but she hadn't quite hit rock bottom yet. She still had somedignity—didn't she? Trying to tune out the hysterical laughter of her inner Katherine, she gazed out of the window at the dark rushing by. What else did she expect to see? They were on the Central line for Pete's sake. For the next fifty minutes the only scenery she was going to get were black walls and lines of electric cable. She sighed heavily, well used to the joys of being a London commuter, and settled back against headrest."I feel like I should introduce myself."Of course his voice is rich, deep and warm enough to melt butter. What else would it be?Katherine swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and turned her head in his direction. "I'm sorry?" Jesus, Katherine, now he'll think you're the village idiot.Tall, dark and oops I think my knickers just caught fire, smiled widely, revealing an adorable dimple in his left cheek. "It feels kind of impolite to sit here and not say anything when we're the only ones here." He leaned across the small gangway between the seats and held out his hand. "I'm CJ."American—Texas by the sound of it—she'd seen enough Dallas re-runs to recognize the sexy drawl. "Katherine," she replied, shaking his hand and snatching back her fingers at the tiny electric shock she received from his."Good to meet you, Katherine. Pretty name, for a pretty lady."Katherine huffed out a polite laugh and turned her gaze back to the window. Good grief. "I'm sorry, that was a really crappy line."Katherine smiled and admitted, "Worse than some, not as bad as others; but yeah, it was right up there with 'Get your coat, love, you've pulled'.""Really? British guys actually use that one?" CJ looked aghast at the very notion."They still drag it out every once in a while," Katherine's lips twitched in amusement at his expression. "But I can't imagine their success rate is very high.""Jeez, and I thought us Yanks were corny as hell.""Nope, we have a healthy market for cheese over here, too." Katherine blushed again as he threw back his head and guffawed at her attempt at humour. Which was pleasing, because not everyone appreciated her dryness. Not to mention the sound unfurled a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach. Heat that warmed her cheeks and sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, making her involuntarily fidget in her seat."So," CJ said softly. "What's the customary subject for two strangers meeting on a train? This is a first for me. In Dallas the chances of you getting an empty car on the subway is harder than winning the lottery."Katherine shifted position slightly so she was half turned towards him and crossed her legs, thanking God she was wearing her last pair of un-laddered hold ups, and her new dark purple suit. "Hmmm…," she murmured, as if she were in deep consideration over his question. "To be honest, I have no idea. Whenever anyone says strangers on a train to me all I can think of is the old Alfred Hitchcock classic, and I'm sure that's not what you meant. Unless you have someone you want me to kill, of course.""Not that I can think of right now," CJ replied with another chuckle, shifting his position to mirror hers she was pleased to note. "Although my landlord still hasn't fixed the hot water yet, so I could change my mind when I'm naked under a freezing shower later."
Katherine tried not to dribble at the thought of a naked CJ under cascading water, whatever the temperature, and couldn't help squeezing her thighs together. The movement sent a pulse of delicious sensation straight to her pussy, curling her toes in her shoes.
BLURB:Casual hook-ups are not Katherine's usual modus operandi. She's level headed, confident and definitely not into throwing caution, and her knickers, to the wind.
However, when the last train becomes the stranded in a pitch black tunnel train, she finds herself alone in the dark with a gorgeous stranger, who makes her an offer she ought to, but can't refuse.
GET YOUR COPY HERE
EXCERPT:
For what must have been the hundredth time, Katherine wished she hadn't agreed to work late, not this late, anyway. The entire office was in chaos, trying to get everything ready for the new boss's arrival. Katherine worked for the head of Sales and Marketing at Thacker, Wright & Grant one of the largest advertising firms in the city, and he'd had her staying late every night this week to make sure all his files were complete. Every 'i' had to be double dotted and every 't' double crossed. Which is exactly what Jack Brody was, a double-crossing, ass-pinching, sleazy son of a bitch. Payroll had done the rounds earlier, and on opening her pay check she was furious to note he hadn't authorized the overtime she'd completed last month—and she knew why. The bastard had been given a written warning last week for his overtly tactile behaviour after she'd made a complaint to Human Resources about his wandering hands. She should have let the asshole present his files to the new VP in their original state—fucking slime-bag. The screen that had been indicating her train would be arriving in three minutes for the last ten mocked her, daring her to challenge its shitty information. She checked her watch, again. If she'd missed the last train home because of that dickhead she was going to be taking the taxi fare out of his ass with a well-placed Jimmy Choo. Speaking of Jimmy Choos, she was starting to get a little antsy in hers. The silence was deafening and, coupled with the flickering fluorescent lighting, she felt as though she'd stepped into a scene from An American Werewolf in London. Her gaze flitted around the platform, settling on the homeless person—she couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman from the generic ensemble of filthy overcoat and tattered beanie—curled up on a bench a few feet from her. She wanted to move away, but she also didn't want to make it obvious that's what she wanted to do. Shaking her head at her own reluctance to hurt the feelings of a sleeping tramp, she mentally cursed her mother and the good manners she'd insisted on instilling in her children.A loud rumbling from the yawning mouth of the tunnel began to build, and the draft created by the approaching locomotive snatched at her coat with icy fingers. Butterflies took flight in Katherine's belly as the roaring grew louder. She loved the sights and sounds of the train pulling into the station. The way the air seemed to be sucked out of the confined space and then pushed back in with a punch when the train burst forth from the darkness like a huge party favour blown between a giant's lips.Jesus—waxing a bit lyrical aren't we? You must be tired.Katherine ignored her inner voice as several carriages passed her before the train came to a stop. The doors opened and she stepped inside, looking around and finding she was alone. Thank God, the last thing she needed was some well-meaning fellow traveller pressing her for conversation. Settling on one of the seats, Katherine sighed heavily and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes and willing away the pressure of the day. The train's engine rumbled as it prepared to continue its journey and the warning buzzer for the doors let off its high pitched beep, signalling the last chance to get on."Fuck!"Katherine's eyes flew open at the expletive and she stared, open-mouthed, at the man who had just managed to squeeze through the doors and onto the car before they'd completely closed. His gaze immediately found hers and he sent her an apologetic smile, which she acknowledged with a brief twitch of her lips.Katherine couldn't believe he'd managed to get all his appendages inside before the train moved off. He probably used the same expertise it took to shoe horn himself into those jeans. The thought bounced around her skull before she could squash it, and she was mortified to note the playful smile on his face, as if she'd said the words out loud. The train jolted as it moved off and Katherine dropped her gaze to her clasped hands where they lay in her lap.Jesus, get a grip, Kathy. Anyone would think you'd never seen a hottie before.That in itself was true; but there was hot and then there was the man sitting across the carriage. Tall, very tall, she'd noticed that when he'd all but fallen onto the train. From the furtive glances she found herself unable to stop taking, she discovered he had dark, brooding eyes, aquiline nose and stubble shadowing his square jaw. His chiselled features could have made him appear hard, if it weren't for his lips. She risked another peak from beneath her lashes. They were full, pouty and looked so soft, for a split-second she wondered how they would feel on her skin. Along with how his black hair would look in contrast with her pale flesh as he slid his tongue down her belly and— Katherine Russell what on earth are you doing? Do you need me to remind you you're a nice girl?No—she didn't need reminding, but the frisson of excitement sliding down her spine when he turned his dark gaze away from the window and onto her, suggested a bit of a nudge might be a good idea. Of course, if he'd stop sending her toe-curling glances, that would probably help. How long has it been since we saw any action that didn't involve alcohol wipes or, God forbid, the replacement of triple A's at pivotal moments?Katherine's cheeks flushed with warmth at the memory. That was definitely one of her lower points, but she hadn't quite hit rock bottom yet. She still had somedignity—didn't she? Trying to tune out the hysterical laughter of her inner Katherine, she gazed out of the window at the dark rushing by. What else did she expect to see? They were on the Central line for Pete's sake. For the next fifty minutes the only scenery she was going to get were black walls and lines of electric cable. She sighed heavily, well used to the joys of being a London commuter, and settled back against headrest."I feel like I should introduce myself."Of course his voice is rich, deep and warm enough to melt butter. What else would it be?Katherine swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and turned her head in his direction. "I'm sorry?" Jesus, Katherine, now he'll think you're the village idiot.Tall, dark and oops I think my knickers just caught fire, smiled widely, revealing an adorable dimple in his left cheek. "It feels kind of impolite to sit here and not say anything when we're the only ones here." He leaned across the small gangway between the seats and held out his hand. "I'm CJ."American—Texas by the sound of it—she'd seen enough Dallas re-runs to recognize the sexy drawl. "Katherine," she replied, shaking his hand and snatching back her fingers at the tiny electric shock she received from his."Good to meet you, Katherine. Pretty name, for a pretty lady."Katherine huffed out a polite laugh and turned her gaze back to the window. Good grief. "I'm sorry, that was a really crappy line."Katherine smiled and admitted, "Worse than some, not as bad as others; but yeah, it was right up there with 'Get your coat, love, you've pulled'.""Really? British guys actually use that one?" CJ looked aghast at the very notion."They still drag it out every once in a while," Katherine's lips twitched in amusement at his expression. "But I can't imagine their success rate is very high.""Jeez, and I thought us Yanks were corny as hell.""Nope, we have a healthy market for cheese over here, too." Katherine blushed again as he threw back his head and guffawed at her attempt at humour. Which was pleasing, because not everyone appreciated her dryness. Not to mention the sound unfurled a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach. Heat that warmed her cheeks and sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, making her involuntarily fidget in her seat."So," CJ said softly. "What's the customary subject for two strangers meeting on a train? This is a first for me. In Dallas the chances of you getting an empty car on the subway is harder than winning the lottery."Katherine shifted position slightly so she was half turned towards him and crossed her legs, thanking God she was wearing her last pair of un-laddered hold ups, and her new dark purple suit. "Hmmm…," she murmured, as if she were in deep consideration over his question. "To be honest, I have no idea. Whenever anyone says strangers on a train to me all I can think of is the old Alfred Hitchcock classic, and I'm sure that's not what you meant. Unless you have someone you want me to kill, of course.""Not that I can think of right now," CJ replied with another chuckle, shifting his position to mirror hers she was pleased to note. "Although my landlord still hasn't fixed the hot water yet, so I could change my mind when I'm naked under a freezing shower later."
Katherine tried not to dribble at the thought of a naked CJ under cascading water, whatever the temperature, and couldn't help squeezing her thighs together. The movement sent a pulse of delicious sensation straight to her pussy, curling her toes in her shoes.
June 30, 2014
WINNERS OF U.S. MALE GIVEAWAY!
WOO HOO! TIME TO ANNOUNCE THE WINNERSOF THE U.S. MALE GIVEAWAY!
I know I'm rubbish, but it was a big family week last week and I forgot!
The winners of
are:-Jen CW (jczlapin@gmail.com)Anonymous (veggieyes@yahoo.com)Serena (luminousblade@yahoo.com)Claudia (havenfieldwood@yahoo.com)Lisa G (lgrant1@san.rr.com)Kendra (kjpattersonrn@yahoo.com)Srae Lizess SulaJamie FessendenAnika Laczko
Those who left emails I will contact you through them - you naughty four at the end I'll message on FB ;)
Thanks for participating guys and I'm sorry for forgetting my own giveaway!
June 21, 2014
BACK TO THE '50's
The Worralls stepped back in time today.
It started as a normal Saturday morning. Gracie and me wandered to the hairdressers to get our hair done. She's my eldest niece's flower girl on Wednesday and she's very excited. So excited she actually consented to having a fringe (bangs) put in because Kimberly asked her to - not because I've been trying to get her to have one for the last three months *rolls eyes*.
And here is Gracie getting the full works, courtesy of the lovely Natalie.
It was my turn after but I wouldn't let her take a picture of me :)
And of course there had to be a close-up.
Doesn't her expression just scream "Good God woman, step away from the camera!"
Anyhoo - after the girlification, we picked up Alex and decided to go into town for brunch. Bearing in mind Alex had "slept" in the front room last night - which means he watched the telly til dawn and then decided he should go to bed. No such luck number 1 son - if you're tired it's your own fault mate.
After much soul-searching and Alex repeatedly saying "Why of course mother, I will get up willingly to go and buy your shoes for the wedding. I can think of nothing better to do with my two hours sleep and my Saturday morning." (yeah right) we were off!
My friend had posted on FB last night pictures of her at Bobby Jo's Diner down on Southend seafront and so I suggested we go there, providing we could park. It was a beautiful day and a drive along the seafront and the smell of the estuary would wake Alex up and give me an opportunity to take the piss out of him every time he moaned.
Surprisingly we nabbed a space a few hundred yards from the diner and stepped back to the '50's. Booths made out of cadillac seats in blue and white leather, pink walls and waitresses decked out in poodle skirts and coiffed hair and little caps - it was brilliant! Lots of '50's paraphernalia about and imagine my geeky excitement when we were directed to the Tony Curtis Booth! I want the Rock Hudson one next time!
We ordered a breakfast. I had the "Ice Trucker" and Alex had the "Hollywood" (yes I know, but not that kind of Hollywood). Gracie had a kid's breakfast.
And, of course, they had bubblegum milkshakes that were to die for. Served in a huge glass topped with whipped cream and a cherry!
I had a cherry coke - just to keep in the spirit of things.
Everything was delicious and the atmosphere with the giant jukebox blaring out '50's hits just added to the ambience. Can't wait to try one of their gigantic hotdogs next time!
And the kids bloody loved it!
It started as a normal Saturday morning. Gracie and me wandered to the hairdressers to get our hair done. She's my eldest niece's flower girl on Wednesday and she's very excited. So excited she actually consented to having a fringe (bangs) put in because Kimberly asked her to - not because I've been trying to get her to have one for the last three months *rolls eyes*.
And here is Gracie getting the full works, courtesy of the lovely Natalie.It was my turn after but I wouldn't let her take a picture of me :)
And of course there had to be a close-up.Doesn't her expression just scream "Good God woman, step away from the camera!"
Anyhoo - after the girlification, we picked up Alex and decided to go into town for brunch. Bearing in mind Alex had "slept" in the front room last night - which means he watched the telly til dawn and then decided he should go to bed. No such luck number 1 son - if you're tired it's your own fault mate.
After much soul-searching and Alex repeatedly saying "Why of course mother, I will get up willingly to go and buy your shoes for the wedding. I can think of nothing better to do with my two hours sleep and my Saturday morning." (yeah right) we were off!
My friend had posted on FB last night pictures of her at Bobby Jo's Diner down on Southend seafront and so I suggested we go there, providing we could park. It was a beautiful day and a drive along the seafront and the smell of the estuary would wake Alex up and give me an opportunity to take the piss out of him every time he moaned.
Surprisingly we nabbed a space a few hundred yards from the diner and stepped back to the '50's. Booths made out of cadillac seats in blue and white leather, pink walls and waitresses decked out in poodle skirts and coiffed hair and little caps - it was brilliant! Lots of '50's paraphernalia about and imagine my geeky excitement when we were directed to the Tony Curtis Booth! I want the Rock Hudson one next time!
We ordered a breakfast. I had the "Ice Trucker" and Alex had the "Hollywood" (yes I know, but not that kind of Hollywood). Gracie had a kid's breakfast.
And, of course, they had bubblegum milkshakes that were to die for. Served in a huge glass topped with whipped cream and a cherry!
I had a cherry coke - just to keep in the spirit of things.
Everything was delicious and the atmosphere with the giant jukebox blaring out '50's hits just added to the ambience. Can't wait to try one of their gigantic hotdogs next time!
And the kids bloody loved it!
June 20, 2014
Do you believe....?
How much of those who've already left us remains around us?
Some believe in the supernatural, some don't, some are firmly on the fence. Me? I'm a believer. Why?
After my mother passed when I was a kid, I felt her with me. Not just in the spiritual sense, but in the physical sense, too. You know, a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, the feel of fingers through my hair, a kiss on my forehead as I drifted off to sleep, the scent of her perfume in the air. Still do... thirty-five years later. And, when I lost my father, sixteen years after her, I had similar experiences with him. The smell of his tobacco, the feel of his arm around me and, giving birth to my first child, seeing him stand behind the midwife with an encouraging smile on his face.
Was it just my imagination? Did my own mind conjure it all up just to make me feel better in times of need? In those moments on life's journey when no one but your mummy and daddy will do?
Honestly? I don't care what it was. The comfort it brought me then and still brings me now is all I need.
Why am I posting about this today? This picture....
An old school friend was going through some photos and she came across this one. (I honestly have no idea who the bloke sitting down is and I vaguely remember this day out and I know she was with us, but that's about it lol) It's a picture she took of me and my family on a day out to Crystal Palace in London what must have been a gazillion years ago (especially judging by the dinosaur behind us!)
The man standing up with his hand on my shoulder is my Dad, and I'm writing this post because I dreamt about him last night. All day I've been a bit discombobulated and I've felt his hand right there on my shoulder since I woke up. It's still there now, as I write this.
So it kind of made me wonder if other people have had the same experiences as me. Have been certain they've felt those no longer here? In fact, my son, when he was about four, saw a picture of my dad that my aunt has on her table. Just a snapshot at a party. But he said to me, "I know him." He never met my dad, so obviously I told him he was mistaken, and he doesn't remember now, but he looked at me as though I was stupid and said, "Yes I do, mummy. He's my friend." I remember my aunt and I looking at each other and the conviction on my son's face that not only did he know my dad, but they were friends. Maybe those smells and those glimpses out of the corner of my eye weren't my imagination after all.
What do you think?
Some believe in the supernatural, some don't, some are firmly on the fence. Me? I'm a believer. Why?
After my mother passed when I was a kid, I felt her with me. Not just in the spiritual sense, but in the physical sense, too. You know, a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, the feel of fingers through my hair, a kiss on my forehead as I drifted off to sleep, the scent of her perfume in the air. Still do... thirty-five years later. And, when I lost my father, sixteen years after her, I had similar experiences with him. The smell of his tobacco, the feel of his arm around me and, giving birth to my first child, seeing him stand behind the midwife with an encouraging smile on his face.
Was it just my imagination? Did my own mind conjure it all up just to make me feel better in times of need? In those moments on life's journey when no one but your mummy and daddy will do?
Honestly? I don't care what it was. The comfort it brought me then and still brings me now is all I need.
Why am I posting about this today? This picture....
An old school friend was going through some photos and she came across this one. (I honestly have no idea who the bloke sitting down is and I vaguely remember this day out and I know she was with us, but that's about it lol) It's a picture she took of me and my family on a day out to Crystal Palace in London what must have been a gazillion years ago (especially judging by the dinosaur behind us!)The man standing up with his hand on my shoulder is my Dad, and I'm writing this post because I dreamt about him last night. All day I've been a bit discombobulated and I've felt his hand right there on my shoulder since I woke up. It's still there now, as I write this.
So it kind of made me wonder if other people have had the same experiences as me. Have been certain they've felt those no longer here? In fact, my son, when he was about four, saw a picture of my dad that my aunt has on her table. Just a snapshot at a party. But he said to me, "I know him." He never met my dad, so obviously I told him he was mistaken, and he doesn't remember now, but he looked at me as though I was stupid and said, "Yes I do, mummy. He's my friend." I remember my aunt and I looking at each other and the conviction on my son's face that not only did he know my dad, but they were friends. Maybe those smells and those glimpses out of the corner of my eye weren't my imagination after all.
What do you think?
June 17, 2014
NEW RELEASE - U.S. MALE
BLURB:Previously published in the Dreamspinner Press anthology, Uniform Appeal.
Uniforms didn't do it for Rick. A firm ass in a tight pair of jeans rang all his bells. But uniforms? Not a single tingle. At least that's what he thought.
Until he opened the door to the new mailman...
I have 10 copies to give away in the format of your choice!
All you have to do is tell me your favourite uniform fetish. Which man in uniform really rings your bell... whether it be the humble fry cook, or the heroic soldier... don't be shy... let me know who does it for you... and why.
My glamorous assistant will choose 10 names at the end of the week so don't forget to leave me your email!
EXCERPT:
Rick didn’t have a uniform fetish. This confession had led to his two best friends declaring there was obviously something fundamentally wrong with him. Which then led to them questioning whether or not he was (a) actually gay and (b) actually breathing. He’d listened to their heartfelt pleas for the fireman and the cop. Not to mention the Marines and soldiers who served their country. Hell, even the humble waiter down at the local Denny’s got a mention. But a man in uniform just didn’t do it for him. Eventually they’d given up on him, expressed their disappointment in his lack of taste and left him to his own devices when they hit the clubs. Nope—give him a firm ass in tight jeans and a T-shirt two sizes too small and he was perfectly happy, thank you.At least that’s what he thought. Then he opened the door to the new mailman.“Morning,” the tall man said, his smile bright and friendly, complete with white teeth and dimples. “Mr. Richard Beaumont?”“Yes… Rick,” Rick mumbled, vaguely wondering if it would be too obvious if he kicked himself for his total lack of cool. “I mean...yes, that’s me.” He huffed out what sounded like a desperate laugh, even to his own ears, and felt the flush of heat in his cheeks. “Morning,” he trailed off lamely and tried not to drool on the man’s shoes.“Package for you, sir. I just need a signature.” The guy held out a computerized pad and pointed to where Rick needed to sign.The mailman held it steady while Rick tried to scrawl in the little square box. “I swear my handwriting isn’t really this bad,” he mumbled, trying desperately not to get caught staring at the muscled thighs that bulged from beneath hideous, polyester, navy shorts.“That’s okay,” he replied, pressing a few buttons on the pad and then slotting it back into the holder on his belt. “No one’s handwriting looks good on these things. Anyway, hope the package is something nice. You have a good day now.”Rick closed the door slowly, telling himself he wasn’t really looking at the curve of the mailman’s ass while he walked back up the path. Nor was he watching the way defined muscles bunched and moved beneath the pale blue cotton shirt; which Rick thought couldn’t possibly have been tighter if it tried. Letting out his breath on a long sigh, he closed the door and leaned against it momentarily, turning the package over in his hands. He already knew what was in it. An antique doll he had bought to stage some Victoriana shots in his photographic studio. Stepping back in time and having your picture taken in the garb of the era seemed to be all the rage at the moment, and who was he to sniff at the latest fad if it was going to put money in his pocket? As he walked back towards the kitchen, the doorbell rang again. Opening the door, Rick found himself once again staring at the engaging dimples either side of the mailman’s smile.“Hi, again,” he said, taking off his navy cap and running a hand through dark, chocolate colored hair.“Hey,” Rick replied, trying to sound casual.“Would you mind if I used your bathroom?” the mailman asked. “Only my van is parked like three streets over, and then I’ve got to drive for twenty minutes back to the depot, and you’re the last stop on my route...” The light in those...blue, no wait, they were green, nope, brown...eyes was pleading and Rick found himself inviting a complete stranger into his home before he could question what the hell he was doing.“Sure, it’s at the end of the hall,” Rick said, standing aside and waving the mailman in. Jesus,he thought when the guy smiled gratefully and walked past him. He’s fucking huge. Rick knew he was no slouch at just over six foot, but this guy was even taller and wider than him, and those broad shoulders tapered into a slim waist and lean hips. His mouth watered and his eyes lingered for far longer than politeness dictated on the curve of the gorgeous man’s ass. It was the perfect peach and completely edible. Shaking his head slowly at his own romanticism, he took a deep breath and went into the kitchen to finish making the coffee he had started before the doorbell had rung the first time.Rick didn’t hear the mailman come into the kitchen, until a firm chest was pressed against his back where he stood at the counter stirring his coffee. “What?” Rick choked out as he felt the man’s breath in warm puffs on the back of his neck. He froze as long fingers snaked down the curve of his ass, sending a shiver through him. “What are you doing?” he squeaked, his breath hitching in his throat.
“Anything you want me to.”
GET YOUR COPY HERE:
June 13, 2014
UK MEET 2014!
Once again, the organisers of the UK Meet did us bloody proud, so to start I have to give huge big squishy cuddles to the Famous Five, Josephine Myles, Charlie Cochrane, JL Merrow, Liam Livings and Clare London. Or as they like to be known... Posh Organiser, Sporty Organiser, Scary Organiser, Baby Organiser and Ginger Organiser! Well done to all of you for giving us a fabulously fun and informative weekend. You are all brilliant!This year's meet was held at The Royal Marriott Hotel in Bristol and, quite frankly, a more beautiful venue I've yet to come across. It was filled with a romantic Victorian gothicness that had your jaw-dropping every five minutes. Especially in the Palm Court where we had our dinner on the Saturday night. The bedrooms were perfect! I don't know about anyone else, but I was sharing with Sue Brown and our bed was bloody huge! We had to use loud hailers just to say goodnight!
It was so nice to see so many old friends and meet new ones. And the readers were fabulous. I sat on a buffet of banter table concerning fanfiction with Becky Black and Mara Ismine. It was fun talking to the fanfic writers and discussing the different fandoms.
The panels were funny, informative, insightful and a whole host of other things combined. I thoroughly enjoyed each one. As for Alex Voinov's closing speech it was heartfelt, heart-warming and bloody wonderful, and he did brilliantly - even though we did threaten to hold up lighters like we were at a Barry Manilow concert!
I also wanted to talk about this year's swag bags. Can I say the quality of swag this year was stupendous. You all outdid yourselves. I'm still on a sugar high from all the love hearts! Not to mention Clare London's penises... peni... not sure what the plural is lol.
The Saturday night's entertainment was just outstanding. Well done Liam! The drag act was just brilliant. Although I'm always suspicious of a man who looks better as a woman than I do!
It really was a fabulous weekend. I finally got to meet people I've only talked to on FB like, Dani Elle Mas, Marc Fleischbauer and, of course, TJ Masters! And bumped into my lovelies, Meredith Russell, Chris Quinton, Elin Gregory ( who I did a secret sheep exchange with - very cloak and dagger), L.A. Witt, Bev Sutherland, Hanne Lie - I could go on and on. If you're pondering on whether to buy a ticket to next year's, ponder no more, if you don't you really will be missing out.
May 31, 2014
UK MEET 2014
This time next week I will be chugging back the wine and enjoying some fabulous food and company at this year's UK Meet. I can't wait to see old friends and make new ones.My swag is ready, my bag is almost packed and Teresa arrives on Thursday. Then I'm going to drop the kids off Friday morning and wait for Petra and Kellie to arrive.
My fingers and anything else I can manage are crossed tightly that it doesn't take us 5 hours to get there and 7 hours to get back again on Sunday - and that we have air-conditioning lol.
It was great fun and very informative last year and I am really looking forward to it. So, if you're going, I'll see you there and if you're not.... next year... I insist!
May 8, 2014
MIKE'S LETTER TO GABE - BEHIND THE MASK
Blurb:2nd Edition - re-edited and re-written, with additional and expanded scenes.
The Downe's Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball has been an annual event for over a hundred years and where, four years ago, Gabe met Mike. It's been over six months since Mike's death and Mike thinks that Gabe is ready to move on. How does Gabe know this? He receives a letter and a ticket to the ball, from Mike. Gabe isn't sure he'll ever be ready to move on, but in deference to Mike's memory, he attends the ball.
What Gabe doesn't know, is that his best friend, Tom, the one constant in his life since college, has also received a letter from Mike. Will Gabe be able to move forward and remember a long forgotten love, or will his world come crumbling down around his ears, again?
Behind the Mask is now available at Amazon HERE.
Here's Mike's letter to Gabe to whet your appetite...
Gabe, my beautiful, beautiful, Gabe,First of all, don’t panic. You don’t need to put your head between your knees and kiss your arse goodbye, you’re not hallucinating. And no, this is not some sort of ‘P.S. I Love You’ kind of deal either—you’re not going to get a letter a month sending you off on little voyages of self-discovery. Take a breath, ‘cause this is a one off, gorgeous.So, what shall we talk about? Let’s get the obvious out of the way first. It’s not like you haven’t heard it before, but I’ll say it again, anyway.I love you. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, which is kind of crazy when you consider the night we met I couldn’t actually see your face. But one look into those eyes was all I needed and when you smiled, damn—I was a goner. I knew you were the one, you know what I mean? I had to have you and I didn’t care who I nutted out of the way to get to you. Luckily for me, you agreed to dinner and a movie. Not that I’d have given up if you’d said no. I’d have convinced you how fabulous I was eventually—and you know it. We went to see that stupid indie movie which should have gone straight to DVD, it was so appalling, but we didn’t care. We sat in the back row like teenagers. I held your hand and you put your head on my shoulder. I have to confess, I could have watched a reading of the yellow pages that night and it would still have been the best first date ever! Of course, I had a lot more hair and a bit more muscle then, which is why I’m so glad I pinned you down before the chemo turned me into an extra from Dawn of the Dead. Sorry, bad joke, but you know me… I don’t know any good ones.I wanted to say so many things, Gabe. To tell you, to try and explain to you how much you mean to me, but I’m having trouble finding the words. ‘Thank you’ and ‘I’m grateful,’ sound so pathetically inadequate. But that’s what I am. Thankful that you’re mine, that I’ve been able to wake up to your beautiful smile every morning for the last four years and thankful to have been loved by you. What was the other one? Oh yeah, grateful. I’m grateful for your support these last months, for standing by my side, and for holding my hand through this total shit-fest. You’ve been my strength and I couldn’t have made it this far without you.I know we’ve said goodbye a thousand times already, in a thousand different ways. And I know we’ve talked about, you know, after, but what I never told you is how angry I am… with myself. Angry for putting you through this… angry for leaving you… angry for not beating it like I promised… angry this happened to us. Just fucking angry. And I do mean us, because I know, although you can’t share my physical pain, I see the emotional heartache in your eyes every day, baby—and I’m so sorry for that. I only ever wanted to make you smile.Jesus, there are so many things I wanted to show you, Gabe. So many places I wanted to take you, to share with you. I only hope, someday, you’ll experience some of those things yourself. Like climbing to the top of the Eiffel Tower, or strolling down Las Ramblas in Barcelona, or flying in a helicopter over the Grand Canyon. And you really have to go Christmas shopping in New York. I wish I could be there to see your face when you look in Bloomingdale’s shop window. To see your mouth drop open and your eyes light up. But that’s where I’ve come to realise what a wonderful thing imagination can be. All I have to do is close my eyes and I can see you there, right now. The slack-jawed look on your face, the fairy lights picking out the gold flecks in your eyes as you stare up at Santa’s Grotto and the utter joy on your beautiful face. Stop shaking your head. I haven’t lost my marbles completely. I’ve just learned to get in touch with my more creative side. What? You think you’re the only one who knows how to be a giant sap? Now where was I? Ah yes, Santa’s Grotto… as I was saying. I guess I will be there in spirit. Because you’d better be carrying a little piece of me in your heart. As I’ll be carrying you with me, wherever it is I end up. Which will hopefully be the big men’s changing room in the sky *snort*.I sent you off to Tesco a while ago under the pretence of a desperate craving for chocolate cheesecake. You’ll be back soon so I guess I need to get to the point.It won’t be long now. I can feel it. But I’m not scared, which is weird because I thought I would be. But I know, when it comes, I’ll be in your arms and your beautiful face is the last thing I’ll see. I know I’m getting the easy part, baby. My pain will stop. The one comfort I have to hold onto is that you won’t be alone. You have your parents, my parents, Sarah and, of course, Tom. I know their support will make it a little easier, but the grieving you’ll have to on your own. So that’s what you should do—grieve. Cry, scream, yell. Whatever you need to do to get through it. People will understand. You don’t need to keep your upper lip stiff, let it out… that’s ok, you’ll need to do that.But please, don’t drag it out, baby. I don’t want you to waste your life on some sort of misguided notion that you can’t love again. That all hope of a happy ever after will die with me. Your capacity to love is immense, Gabe, and shouldn’t be put away in a drawer—which is what you need to do with me. So grieve, but then dry your tears and move on. Live your life. And know I’ll be watching you, with a smile on my face and joy in my heart.In this envelope you’ll find a ticket to the ball, Cinderella. Just think of me as your ghostly fairy godmother. Don’t pull that face. Downe Hall is where we met, and it’s the perfect place for this chapter of your life to end… and a new one to begin. Please go. Dress up, drink champagne, remember me for a while if you must but not for long. Then find yourself a gorgeous new Prince and ride off into the sunset.I know you think I’m nuts, that my brain’s a lump of Swiss cheese, but after you’ve read this letter twenty or thirty times, you’ll know I’m right. Let’s face it, babe, I always am. My hand’s starting to ache and my writing looks like a five-year-old has gone nuts with a biro, so I’m going to sign off now. If I don’t, I won’t be awake enough to eat that cheesecake you’re buying and my cover will be blown.I love you, Gabe, always. Go to the ball and find your Prince Charming… it’s where I found mine.Mike
April 16, 2014
Everyday chocolate and Easter Eggs... do they taste different... or is it just me?
This is a very short and random post, but bear with me.
As we head into the Easter weekend, this thought popped into my head, as it does every year.
I know each manufacturer of chocolate has their own recipe. One might put more cocoa powder in theirs than another, and one might put more milk in theirs, or sugar, or sweetener or.... we could go on forever. But what do they do to Easter Egg chocolate that makes it taste a gazillion times richer, more luscious, meltinthemouthicious, better than your everyday slab?
Is it just me? Or is it because it's an actual Easter Egg, a gift if you will, that makes it taste better? Do they have a secret recipe that they trawl out each year? Or am I simply mental? I don't know... you tell me...
