Lisa Worrall's Blog, page 32

HOT SUMMER FUN

COMING JUNE 1ST

CONTINENTAL DIVIDE NOW $3.99 AT AMAZON & ARe !!!

NOW $3.99 AT AMAZON.COM AND ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS !!!


BLURB:



Detective Remington frickin' hates the missing persons detail, but a cold fury builds in the pit of his stomach when he realizes that over the past three months six boys have disappeared from the smaller communities that surround the greater Phoenix area. All reported to be runaways looking to escape their shitty lives, but Remy's starting to put together a different picture and he doesn't like it one damn bit.

Inspector Jamie Mainwaring stares at the six reports, willing them to make sense. Six boys, six months, all from just outside of London, which meant six different investigations. All of the boys were between the ages of ten and fifteen, all purportedly runaways from dysfunctional families. Something was rotten in Denmark.

There are always runaways. Every small town loses them—every big city collects them. Kids look for freedom and discover they have more to lose than they ever thought possible. London and Phoenix, culture and cowboys, nothing linking these two sprawling metropolitan areas. Nothing except a hit on a computer data search.

Two cops, one a cowboy, the other a Lord. A secret government agency, human trafficking, and a blazing hot mutual distraction.

What the hell have Remington and Mainwaring gotten themselves into?
EXCERPT:"Who the hell are you?" Jamie asked incredulously, not expecting to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Regardless of the gorgeous hunk of man-flesh at the other end of it. Rephrase that, the naked gorgeous hunk of man-flesh at the other end of it, as the man's loosely secured towel slipped to the floor. His gaze traveled slowly over the man's ruggedly handsome face and down the muscled planes of his torso. Pausing longer than was perhaps polite on the long thick length of the man's cock laying heavy against his thigh, he tried not to lick his lips as he continued down the muscled legs to the bare feet poking from beneath the dropped towel on the floor. Maybe a little homespun and unrefined for Jamie's tastes, but undeniably gorgeous all the same. "Well, I feel slightly over-dressed," he drawled sarcastically. "If I'd known it was going to be a slumber party, I'd have packed my jammies.""James Manwearing?" Remy questioned glancing from the ID to Jamie and back again.Suddenly the man-flesh looked less edible as eyebrows rose high under the shaggy brown hair falling in deep brown eyes. Jamie grabbed his black wallet from the stranger's fingers and shoved it into his jacket pocket. "It's pronounced Mannering," he snapped. "I'd ask to see your badge, but I don't think you can show me anything I haven't already seen." Jamie strode across the room to pull back the flimsy curtain and peer out into the street. Good God, what a dump! He had no idea dives such as this one even still existed in a city as affluent as London. What had good-looking done to deserve this? More to the point, what had he done to deserve this?One minute he's sitting at his desk, going over the latest reports with one of his team and the next he's being dragged into the Chief Inspector's office and told to clear his calendar and report to this address. There had been no explanation, just the steely glare of his superior and a sticky-note slapped into his palm. Jamie had worked for the man long enough to know that all he could do was follow orders and hope there was an explanation waiting for him when he arrived.What he hadn't been expecting was a naked man-mountain to open the door and stick a gun in his face. Turning to the man who, thankfully, had shoved some jeans and a shirt on, Jamie put his hands on his hips. "Okay, who are you and what the hell am I doing here?""Name's Remington and I was gonna ask you the same thing, Detective Man-wearing."* * *"Inspector. Not detective. Inspector. And it's pronounced Mannering. Inspector Mannering," he repeated, pronouncing it slowly, as if speaking to a particularly dim-witted child.Remy ignored the clipped voice, narrowed his eyes, and returned the thorough inspection he'd been given by Man-wearing. Height-wise they were well-matched, with only an inch or two difference, but he had a good twenty pounds on the inspector. The man had black hair that curled over his collar and fell in his face, and deep set eyes that were currently looking out from under a wrinkled brow. Imagine that, the in-spec-tor looked annoyed.The pansy ass would likely get along well with Oswald, but probably didn't have clue about real police work. Fucking shit! Was this how cops dressed in London? Polished black shoes, a charcoal gray suit, and a fruity green shirt and tie. He supposed the guy was trying to show off those dark green eyes. His damned outfit probably cost more than Remy's pick up truck back home. "Like what you see, Detective?" "Hardly," Remy snorted. "You look like you belong in a bank. I doubt you'd recognize a bad guy if he jumped up and bit you on the ass. In fact—"A sharp rap on the door interrupted the tirade he seemed to be building toward. Pushing aside his unreasonable anger, Remy repeated the door opening routine. This time it was a woman who entered at the wave of his gun. She reached into the pocket of her red power blazer and removed her credentials for inspection. Remy kept the gun aimed at her stomach and took the leather case. "Julia Forsythe, Director, Regional Police Services—European Division. INTERPOL. Guess that makes you a pretty big deal," Remy said."I guess it does," she agreed."For God's sake, Remington. Put the gun away. Director, it is an honor to make your acquaintance, I'm James Mainwaring." Remy ignored their exchange. He locked the door and tucked his gun in his waistband before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. The newcomer was a compact woman in her mid-fifties, with a cap of short salt and pepper hair. Despite the elegant exterior, she carried herself like a cop. He liked that."So, a director and an inspector. Somebody want to clue me in on why a plain old detective from Phoenix is here?" He was watching both of them, so he didn't miss the quick nod of Mainwaring's head."You're here, Detective, because I asked for you. For both of you. Now, James, if you'll take a seat, I'll explain.""Call me Jamie," the other man added quickly, and Remy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Jamie. Of course.

TEN THINGS YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW ABOUT ME!

This is me!  Just in case you are unfamiliar with the Worrall :)

You may be interested in these facts, you may just think I've lost my mind... either way works :)

1.  I have a small scar on the knuckle of my middle finger of my left hand... this was obtained not by some daredevil exploit, or during the saving of a small child... I got it when I scraped my finger down the wall trying to save myself when I fell out of the house one morning.

2.  I cry at the drop of a hat... every episode of Little House on the Prairie, at adverts, even when Smurfette's mouse died in an episode of the Smurfs.  I know... sap I hear you cry.

3.  I once walked home on a broken ankle without noticing.  Of course, this may have been after several bottles of extremely strong cider and the incapacity to remember my own name, let alone register pain.  Bloody hurt the next day though - I was in a cast for six weeks!

4.  I am a huge Elvis fan.  He was all my mum listened to as I was growing up and the love of his music and that beautiful face rubbed off on me.  When I went to Graceland seven years ago, it was raining, which I was eternally grateful for, because in the Garden of Remembrance, no one could see me cry. (Told you, drop of a hat)

5.  I went to a Michael Bolton concert once and decided not to put my glasses on.  My friend pointed out when I asked her if Michael had had his hair cut, that I was watching the guitarist sitting next to him.  *The shame*


6.  I had had slightly too much falling down water one night at a party and I apparently went out to kiss my car goodnight.  Believe me, I haven't been able to live that one down in twenty years.

7.  My favourite food is Steak and Kidney pie.  And it must be eaten in a certain way.  First you take the lid of the pie off and eat that.  Then you scoop out all the filling and eat that.  Then you eat the pastry :)  See, you learn something new every day.

8.  I could spot Stefan Edberg's (Swedish tennis player and two time winner of Wimbledon) bum in a line-up. I'm not going to explain why... I don't need to... do I?

9.  I am addicted to Pepsi Max.  Seriously... if I don't have some every day, I get twitchy!

10.  I fall over a lot.  Down stairs, down steps, even just down a kerb.  It has plagued all my life.  My oldest friend Lisa will tell you of the time I fell over running for the 193 on the way home from school.  My friend Teresa will tell you how I elegantly threw myself down the stairs at a Jason Manns' concert a couple of years ago - and indeed how I fell ONTO the bus.  *shakes head*
 
There you are, a little insight into the farce that is my life - I hope you enjoyed it :)

Questions for Sue Brown :)

Sue Brown asked me to ask her a question, any question, it didn't matter what... so I did...

If you were caught in a bear trap and the only way to escape was to cut off your own foot with the convenient hacksaw in your backpack - would you be able to do it?
Her answer was.....   No. Yes. God, I hope so.  Pansy! Cut it off!

Would you be able to???

While you're pondering the question... pop on over to Sue's Blog and possibly win a copy of Sue's latest release, Stolen Dreams....

Five years ago Morgan cheated on his lover and Shae left. Now, Morgan is engaged to Jase and his career as an assistant movie director is thriving. The last thing Morgan expects is Shae to walk back into his life.

Five years ago Morgan cheated on his best friend and lover and Shae left. Now, Morgan has a new life. He is engaged to Jase, a tempestuous and passionate Hollywood actor, and his career as an assistant movie director is thriving. Then Shae walks back into his life.
It is clear that he is still deeply attracted to Shae and that feeling is returned. Unfortunately everyone else can see it, including his fiancé.
As Morgan and Shae get to know each other again, they discover the extent that friends meddled in their lives to keep them apart. Morgan finds he cannot deny he is still in love with Shae, but he is engaged. Shae has secrets of his own he's not prepared to share.
Morgan has some hard decisions to make as he struggles not to hurt the men he cares about.

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY!!

Hello my pretties and welcome to Flash Fiction Friday, where you will find one hundred words per week based upon a picture chosen at random by either myself or my cohorts in this marvellous adventure.  Make sure you follow the at the bottom of this post to see what other delights await you.
I stared into his eyes.  Deep green eyes like a stormy sea on a winter's day.  The bronze of his torso gleaming in the harsh lights surrounding us.  His fingers were warm curled around my neck and his muscles flexed beneath my hand where it lay against his knee.  I knew I was envied by the watching crowd.  Knew they all wanted to replace me.  I tried to keep desire burning in my gaze as the camera flashed, while wondering how they'd feel if they knew the most beautiful model in the world had the worst breath I'd ever encountered.
MORE FLASH THIS WAY 
See you next week!

LUCKY 7 MEME

The Lucky Seven Meme is 7 sentences on page 7, or 77, of any current WIP :)

Here are mine....


"I was coming out of the bedroom and it pushed me down the stairs.""You're sure?" Jack said a frown creasing his brow. "Could you have fallen? Tripped?""Mr Knight," Evan replied, his tone matter of fact. "My bedroom is fifteen feet along the landing from the top of the stairs. I woke up a little after three in the morning to use the bathroom which is in the opposite direction to the stairs. I was dragged by some sort of force those fifteen feet then pushed."

I DON'T GET IT...

I realise that everyone is different.  Everyone likes different food, different scents, different clothes, different music.  And obviously people have different tastes in the bedroom.

I am a firm believer of each to their own and in no way want to cause offence, because, hey, whatever floats your boat, love.  But this... (see photo)... this I just don't get.

I mean... being led around with one of these strapped to your face?  I'm interested, truly interested and not trying to be facetious at all... but what pleasure do you derive from this?

Hell, I like being Mrs Tie Me Up Tie Me Down every so often myself... but if my man suggested I wear a collar and lead and crawl around on my hands and knees... Let's just say he'd be finding the sofa very comfortable to sleep on.

But what happens if you're not into this... but your partner is?  Do you go along with it because you want to make them happy, even if you secretly hate it?  Can you ever love someone enough to completely humiliate yourself, knowing that you are getting nothing out of it at all?

I know everyone has their limits, and I'm not saying I just lie back and think of England, cause I don't *evil grin* - but this is really stretching my limits.

What about you?

EXCERPT FROM GOING UNDER (UNEDITED)

 
COMING SOON! An excerpt of Going Under (unedited)

EXCERPT:
 Pulling open the curtains to let in the morning light, Evan gazed out of the glass pane and at the rolling hills that surrounded his house on every side. His house. It sounded good in his head; new house and new beginning. Surveying the beautiful countryside that the large farmhouse was sitting smack dab in the middle of, he wondered how he could be anything but happy here. It was perfect – almost. But he wouldn't think about Mack now – couldn't. If he let himself walk that road he'd end up in a useless heap on the floor and those boxes wouldn't unpack themselves.Lost in his thoughts he started when he heard a slam. "Fuck," he hissed, dropping the curtain and padding out onto the landing. He heard it again, coming from the bathroom. Swallowing, an uneasy feeling unfurling in his belly, he opened the bathroom door and looked around the room. Everything seemed in place. His toiletries were on the shelf in a large shoebox and the stack of towels he'd unpacked yesterday, were still sitting in the bone dry tub. The tub was one of the things that had attracted Evan to the property. It was huge and at six, one in his bare feet, a tub that he could actually stretch out in was something of a novelty. It sat in the middle of the room on claw feet with old-fashioned steel faucets and the head end higher than the foot end, like something you would see in a Victorian lady's boudoir. The white porcelain was cracked a little with age and he would have to repaint the underside with some specialized paint, but he didn't care. The proportions of the room and the grandeur of the fittings, albeit a little worn, were basically what had clinched the deal."Jesus Christ," he spat, spinning around when the door to the bathroom slammed behind him. His heart pounded in his chest when there was another slam and he span back to see the large window at the end of the room banging in the wind. "For fuck's sake, Griffin," he admonished himself, walking over to the window, pulling it shut and securely latching it. "It's an old house. The window was open which made the first slam and then the centrifugal force created by the window and the door being open caused the second." He stopped in front of the mirror he had hung above the basin the day before and ran his hands through his shaggy hair, scratching his scalp with blunt nails. "If you're going to think that every knock, creak and bang is something sinister, you might as well pack up and go back to the city right now." He shook his head at his reflection. "And stop talking to yourself," he added with a smile before firmly closing the door behind him and heading back to the bedroom to get dressed.  "You think moving house can get rid of me, Evan?"The young girl watched the man move around the bedroom from her seat on the deep window sill. "You always were stupid," her cold brown eyes narrowed, her lips curling in a cruel smile. "I'm not going anywhere until you and everyone you love has paid for what you did."

A Lord, a Cowboy and a secret Government Agency...

BLURB:

Detective Remington frickin' hates the missing persons detail, but a cold fury builds in the pit of his stomach when he realizes that over the past three months six boys have disappeared from the smaller communities that surround the greater Phoenix area. All reported to be runaways looking to escape their shitty lives, but Remy's starting to put together a different picture and he doesn't like it one damn bit.

Inspector Jamie Mainwaring stares at the six reports, willing them to make sense. Six boys, six months, all from just outside of London, which meant six different investigations. All of the boys were between the ages of ten and fifteen, all purportedly runaways from dysfunctional families. Something was rotten in Denmark.

There are always runaways. Every small town loses them—every big city collects them. Kids look for freedom and discover they have more to lose than they ever thought possible. London and Phoenix, culture and cowboys, nothing linking these two sprawling metropolitan areas. Nothing except a hit on a computer data search.

Two cops, one a cowboy, the other a Lord. A secret government agency, human trafficking, and a blazing hot mutual distraction.

What the hell have Remington and Mainwaring gotten themselves into?

EXCERPT


Jamie squeezed some jell out onto his fingers and then rubbed his hands together before feathering them through his hair. Pulling at strands of hair here and there, he ponced about with it until he was happy with the tousled spikes that looked as though he hadn't even touched them. He padded into the bedroom and took his black shirt, shot with a fine vertical silver thread, down from the hanger and pulled it on. Then he grabbed his tightest jeans and spent the next several minutes trying to wrestle them up his legs. He slipped his feet into some funky looking biker boots he'd bought earlier that day and gazed at himself in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. He wasn't a particularly vain man, he had too much going on to pay too much attention to how he looked, but the reflection staring back at him was most definitely hot. Could it be that we took a little extra care because Remy is our escort tonight? "Oh fuck off," he muttered and slammed the wardrobe door with a rattle.Squaring his shoulders, Jamie walked back out into the living area and paused mid-step. Remy was standing by the window and the lamp in the corner of the room perfectly back-lit the gorgeous man. He was wearing dark blue jeans, his resident cowboy boots, and an olive green silk shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. Jamie wished that he had a camera in his hand, because Remy was way past handsome, he was beautiful. Then he turned around and ruined it all."I feel like a fuckin' model!" Rolling his eyes, Jamie groaned as perfect Remy was replaced with thirteen-year-old Remy, with a sulky expression and a stance that said, "I don't wanna.""Get a grip," Jamie snapped, picking up one of the key cards and squeezing it into his back pocket. "Forsythe wants me to have a public fall out with my family. I think we both know that my mother hates behavior that she deems unbecoming to someone with title. And since she already thinks I picked you up in a bar, we're just going to go and have a good time and make sure we get paparazzi'd. It'll hit the society pages first thing in the morning and she'll have a fit over her Weetabix. Job done." He wandered across the room and stroked a finger down the 'v' of skin on show in the open neck of Remy's shirt, enjoying the discomfort on the other man's face. "Oh, and one more thing. Would you mind removing the stick from your arse for just one night? You might surprise yourself and have a good time." He lifted an eyebrow sardonically and mumbled beneath his breath, "Stranger things have happened."* * *Standing at the bar, the beat of the music reverberatin
CONTINENTAL DIVIDE (Separate Ways Series, Book One) - the coming together of two writers on different continents, and the coming together of two men who are definitely going to get more than they bargained for.  Available now at AMAZON 

GUEST STAR: MY VERY OWN SUGARBEAR, TOM WEBB!

This is a real treat for me and you guys.  Today I have my Tom Webb, my Sugarbear, on the chaise with me and eyeing the cheesecake... yeah I broke out the cheesecake for this man!  He enthralls us with his honest and open reviews and warms our hearts with his kindness, sensitivity and huge all encompassing ability for love :)  Take it away gawgeous!

A Bear on Books on…

Dating a Younger Man, and a new book I want you to consider
Okay, so all you guys know my story by now.  I'm 50, gay and live in Atlanta.  But what you may not know is, I've started dating a younger man.  Now before you get all catty and say, Well, Tom, most men are younger than you – bitches – he really is.
He's 27.  That's 23 years younger than me. 
We went to a concert on Saturday evening, and saw Boyce Avenue.  Hot group, by the way, and I'd bring the lead singer home for some breakfast any day.  But I digress…the concert.
 I noticed all the young guys there and felt a little pervy till I saw some were couples.  With older guys.  Some were REAL Dads there with their sons.  And Kevin and I didn't get a second glance.  Did I happen to mention Kevin is black also?
I thought, How cool.  How far things have come in Atlanta, that I can go out and have a nice dinner with my boyfriend, my black younger boyfriend, and nobody looked twice.
Kevin is a concert violinist, remarkably mature, works part time at Barnes & Noble, and thinks I am "cute and undeniably hawt".  His mamma raised him right, I can tell.  And he thinks it's cool as hell that I blog about gay themed books and have a harem of "wives". 
He may be a keeper – updates will follow…
Now, a great read I would love for more folks to check out.
I received an email from Philip Luing.  He lost his partner to AIDS in 1994 after 12 years as partners.  During their life together, he wrote Jeff, his lover, a letter or note every anniversary, Valentine's Day, birthday, and Christmas to celebrate their love.  They both tested positive for HIV in 1985, and in the last two years of Jeff's life, especially, there is a poignancy to the letters that amazed me.
But what was fascinating and drew me in was the emotional honesty in the letters.  The first couple of years were filled with love and rainbows, but as the honeymoon settled, the letters gained texture and resonance.  This was about two men's lives together, and the lessons we learn as we live together through hard times and good times.
Here's an excerpt from my review:
In February of 1982, Philip Luing and Jeffrey Lalonde meet when they are assigned to the same study group at their church.  After rehearsal for a play, they went to a local deli for bagels and coffee on April 15th and begin their 12 year love affair.
Phil is the more artistic, creative and emotional of the two; Jeff is more pragmatic.  Over the course of their lives together, Phil writes Jeff letters of love, feelings and celebration.  He marks not only their milestones - birthdays, Valentine's Day, Christmas, anniversaries - but also those times in their lives that are mundane.  Just because.
In June of 1985, both men tested positive for HIV.
And on March 9, 1994, in the early hours of the morning, Jeff slipped from this life with his love standing watch.
Phil took the letters and notes and scribblings that he had given Jeff over the years and collected them into this small tome, "From Particles and Disputations: Writings for Jeff.  A Book of Hours."
Consider grabbing this off of Amazon – it's a great read for $2.99. 
http://www.amazon.com/Particles-Disputations-Writings-Jeff-ebook/dp/B0077RQPZ8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1331085666&sr=1-1
And as always, please check out my blog, A Bear on Books.  I am a little bhind in posting some new reviews, but I will have them up this weekend.
www.Tom-Webb.blogspot.com
Tom. Out.
I am the Director of Finance for a nonprofit agency in Atlanta, Georgia. We provide housing assistance for people living with HIV/AIDS, which is a cause very close to my heart. I am 50, single, have four dogs who are my kids, and read just about anything I can get my hands on. I love my family and friends, and as with most things, a little of each goes a long way.
We love you too Tom and Writings for Jeff has just loaded to my Kindle :)