Lisa Worrall's Blog, page 9
February 21, 2016
WINNERS OF FOREVER DUSK GIVEAWAY!
My glamorous assistant (my 10 year old in case you're wondering) has picked four winners from the hat and they
are..... *drum roll*.....
JEN CW
JD HARVILL
DIVERSE READER
and
ROGER GRACE
Congratulations to the winners, I will be contacting you by email, and thank you to everybody for participating.
February 19, 2016
Insta Love in Books: Is it realistic?
EYES ACROSS A CROWDED ROOMI'm a romance writer so technically speaking, love is my business. I concoct stories of attraction, love and of course a liberal sprinkling of angst, so I should know all about love - right? I thought I did until, at the risk of sounding like the biggest dork in the world, I met my partner.The other night in bed, as he cuddled up and turned me into the little spoon, I was struck by how natural our relationship is (not that I've had unnatural ones!) In fact, we both kept asking each other if we were moving too fast, if it was weird to feel this way in such a short period of time, and we came up with the same answer again and again.
The only weird thing about it, was that it didn't feel weird - it felt right.
There was no walking on eggshells, thinking before I said anything, wondering if I'd done the wrong thing. No self-doubt, self-pity or self-recriminations. No waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was seemless, comfortable, natural. It was everything I didn't even know I was looking for until it was right there in front of me. It was EASY.
We're eight months in now and, if anything, it's got even easier the longer we've been together. And it's not even grand gestures like flowers or declarations of undying love that make me feel cherished. It's the little things. The way I catch him just looking at me with this little half-smile on his face. The way my glass is never empty because he's re-filled it before the last drop has gone. The hot water bottle he sneaks beneath the covers on my side of the bed so I don't have to get into freezing cold sheets. And the black wine gums he picks out of the packet and gives to me because he knows they're my favourite.
So... insta-love: is it realistic? In life it is, so why not in books?
What do you think?
February 18, 2016
FOREVER DUSK - GIVEAWAY!
Blurb: There is nothing as strong as the bond between a sire and his vampire.
But what do you do when you find out your partner’s sire is also your own?
Jonah had been a vampire for over a hundred years when he met Sebastian, the owner of the vampire-themed nightclub in downtown LA. Twenty years later and Jonah and Sebastian are stronger than ever.
But when another’s jealousy brings their sire to the club, will their relationship be able to withstand the strength of their bond with Vincenzo, and their bond with each other?
I have four copies of the new Forever Dusk to giveaway.
All you have to do is tell me your favourite vampire movie and leave your email address.
My always glamorous assistant will draw the winners on Sunday :)
February 14, 2016
NEW RELEASE: Re-release of Forever Dusk
Blurb: There is nothing as strong as the bond between a sire and his vampire.
But what do you do when you find out your partner’s sire is also your own?Jonah had been a vampire for over a hundred years when he met Sebastian, the owner of the vampire-themed nightclub in downtown LA. Twenty years later and Jonah and Sebastian are stronger than ever.
But when another’s jealousy brings their sire to the club, will their relationship be able to withstand the strength of their bond with Vincenzo, and their bond with each other?
Amazon.com All Romance Ebooks Amazon.co.uk
Excerpt:
“What can I get you, sir?”Jonah looked up at the bartender standing in front of him and quickly scanned the array of microbrews behind the man. “You know what, surprise me,” he said boldly, then handed over his twenty and rested his elbows on the bar. He grinned when the bartender waited for his opinion on the beer he had put before him and returned Jonah's smile when he nodded his appreciation after the first mouthful. He let his gaze idly roam the club after the bartender had moved on to his next customer and he marveled at the lengths some of these freaks had gone to in order to get into the whole vampire thing.Jonah felt his stomach tighten when he saw a girl lift her companion's wrist and sink her teeth into the soft flesh. “Jesus,” he whispered to himself as he watched two rivers of dark red blood drip from the man's skin and onto the table in front of them. He was transfixed as the girl drank greedily until she pulled back and licked the excess blood from her lips. “Holy fucking shit,” he mouthed, unable to believe what he was actually seeing. Then his mouth dropped open in stunned surprise when the man ripped what looked like a used condom from his wrist and tossed it onto the table, before he slanted his lips across the woman's and licked the blood from her mouth. It was fake. It was all fake; just a bunch of Twilight wannabes with their little tricks and bags of theater blood. Or maybe it was corn syrup, just like they used in Carrie. He sighed heavily and took another draw of his beer. Had he really expected to find what he was looking for here? That his search would be over? How long had he waited? Well, this was his fifth pass through higher education, so long enough. He stared at his reflection in the mirror above the bar. He didn’t look bad for his age. All one hundred and fifty-six years of it. Well, one hundred and seventy-seven if you counted the twenty-one he’d notched up when he was human. Jonah picked absently at the label on the beer bottle and gave himself a mental shake. What am I doing?A vampire, pretending to be human, in a club full of humans pretending to be vampires. Freud would have a field day with this one. Although, having met the man himself on several occasions, Jonah was sure he’d have thrown some sort of Oedipus complex in for good measure. At least Anne Rice had gotten something right. The loneliness and despair. The desperate craving for solace only others of your kind could provide. Contrary to popular opinion, vampires didn’t band together in cozy little nests and, those that did, were the sort of vampires not even other vampires wanted to run into. They mindlessly followed a self-appointed leader and lived for the hunt. Jonah swallowed a slightly hysterical laugh before it could escape. Tonight he’d been at the mercy of Theo’s dick; thatnight so very long ago, he’d been at the mercy of his own. As he’d dressed to attend the town fair with his family, he was filled with excited anticipation. The fair was the highlight of the year and this time he was old enough to join his father in the drinking tent. His older brothers had been raggin’ on him all week and if he said he wasn’t looking forward to tasting his first drop of alcohol, he’d be lying. If he’d known his first would also be his last, he may have stayed at home—Jolted from his reverie by the slide of someone’s hand down the curve of his ass, Jonah sighed heavily. He turned to look at the owner of the hand, a polite rejection ready, when a strong arm was wrapped around his waist and pulled him against a firm body.“Look, man,” Jonah said as he looked into eyes covered with the now familiar contacts. “I'm not interested. I'm just here with a friend.” He expected the guy to just nod and move on, so annoyance warmed his belly when the arm around him tightened and lips parted to reveal sharp white teeth. “I said I'm not interested,” he hissed, and tried to disengage himself with as little fuss as possible. Obviously, he could have dispatched his unwanted admirer with one finger, but this was hardly the time, or the place to attract even more attention. But when his assailant wound spiteful fingers into his hair and pulled, it took an iron clad grip on his senses not to send the moron hurtling across the club. When the man’s hand slipped lower and palmed his crotch, the tenuous hold on his temper was stayed by the sound of a voice from behind him.“I believe the gentleman said he wasn't interested.”Jonah turned his head and winced at the pull on his hair the movement created. The man holding him took one look at the owner of the voice and released him.“I'm sorry, Sebastian,” the oaf slurred, obviously drunk. He turned back to Jonah and held his hands out in an attempt at placation. “I should not have been so forward. I overstepped. Please forgive me.”“Yeah, whatever,” Jonah said, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the crowd that seemed to have assembled around them. He turned away and looked down at his beer, desperately willing the people to disperse so he could die quietly. He started when a slender hand fell onto his shoulder and he looked into eyes the color of which could only be described as violet, in a face so ethereally handsome that his mouth actually dropped open.“I'm Sebastian O'Keefe,” his savior said softly. “I’m the owner of this establishment and I would like to extend my apologies for the way you have been treated this evening, Mr…?”“Roberts, Jonah Roberts,” he replied, hoping he didn't sound like a complete moron, because his tongue was currently stuck to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth. “Mr. Roberts, again, my apologies. Braden will furnish you with a drink on the house.” He motioned to the bartender. “Please, enjoy the rest of your evening.” Sebastian nodded politely and turned away.“Wait,” Jonah said on a rush of breath, not entirely sure what he was doing, but certain in that split second that he didn't want to Sebastian O’Keefe to leave. “The least I can do is buy you a drink after you defended my honor.”“Thank you, but no,” Sebastian replied, his violet gaze traveling over Jonah slowly from beneath lowered lashes. “I have some work to do in the office, and I don't really care for alcohol.”“A soda then?” Jonah blurted as the man turned away. “Tea, coffee?” He held out his hands in a hopeful gesture. “I've got a breath mint in my pocket…” Jonah smiled as Sebastian's lips twitched and he tilted his head, hitting him with his best hang-dog look. “Just one?” “Very well, Mr. Roberts,” Sebastian replied. “Just one.”
February 7, 2016
STEP BACK IN TIME SUNDAY!
I thought I'd do a little reminiscing on a Sunday and am going to kick off with these and lose myself in my youth.
I love Midge Ure, both in and out of Ultravox. Not least because my friend Steve is a deadringer for him - minus the silly little ponytail! Poor Steve didn't have enough hair on the top of his head anyway - never mind any spare at the back!
Hope you enjoy them and they bring a smile to your face like they have mine :)
See you next Sunday!
I love Midge Ure, both in and out of Ultravox. Not least because my friend Steve is a deadringer for him - minus the silly little ponytail! Poor Steve didn't have enough hair on the top of his head anyway - never mind any spare at the back!
Hope you enjoy them and they bring a smile to your face like they have mine :)
See you next Sunday!
January 11, 2016
WINNERS OF BEFORE SUNDOWN GIVEAWAY!
SEXIEST DAMN COWBOY I KNOW!The winners are..... drum roll please.... Teresa and Kirsty!
If you can shoot me a pm on fb letting me know what format you want,
I can put you in contact with Dreamspinner :)
January 7, 2016
GIVEAWAY - BEFORE SUNDOWN
My latest release, Before Sundown, is a love story between an ornery ranch hand and the landowner's son. I am giving away two ebooks and all you have to do to be in the running is leave a comment telling me your favourite cowboy film... Mine is The Searchers, John Wayne :) My glamorous assistant will pick a winner on Monday!
Blurb:Samuel Somerfield is used to the oppressive heat of the Texas plains, and in the year 1892 things get even hotter when ranch hand Eli Watkins walks onto the job. Every stolen glance, every searing touch from Eli tilts Samuel’s world on its axis. He wants only to spend the rest of his life in Eli’s arms. But Samuel’s cruel and domineering father has other plans for him. Samuel must marry Eleanor Johnston and give his father the social standing he craves.
Eli knew falling in love with Samuel would cause problems, yet even he never dreamed Mr. Somerfield would go to such lengths to keep his son and him apart. After Somerfield orders a beating that leaves Eli disfigured and embarrassed, Eli takes a job on another ranch far from Samuel.
News of Samuel’s impending wedding eventually reaches Eli, and he realizes he must return to the man he loves, despite what might await him, and try to save Samuel from a life he was not meant to live.
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
San Antonio. 1892
“ENDA THE trail, son.”
Eli Watkins stretched his arms above his head and grimaced as his own stink filled his nostrils. He groaned loudly and yawned. The trek from Dallas had been long and uncomfortable, his clothes stuck to his skin under the relentless heat of the Texas sun, and his ass was numb from sitting on the unforgiving wooden floor of the cart. He gazed up at the sign atop the tall fence posts and smiled at the single word carved into it: Somerfield.
Eli had been working a spread in Dallas a few weeks ago when Somerfield’s foreman had arrived with some cowboys to take the horses his boss had purchased back to San Antonio. After seeing how Eli handled the animals, Garrett Jackson had offered him a new job for more pay. Eli accepted without hesitation. Everything Jackson told him about Somerfield piqued his interest, especially the “more pay” part. Now he was here, ready to embark on a new chapter, and the familiar tingle of excitement curled his toes in his worn-out boots.
“Ya just gonna sit there?”
Eli grinned at the owner of the gruff voice, then grabbed his saddlebags and stood up. He clambered over the side of the cart and jumped to the ground, his boots sending dust flying in all directions. He’d met the farmer in the saloon in town and gratefully accepted his offer of a ride to the ranch. He only hoped the hospitality that awaited him beyond the imposing sign was as genial as the old man staring down at him.
“Thanks for the ride, Homer.” Eli tipped his hat. “I’m much obliged.”
“Di’n’t cost nothin’,” Homer replied. “Manners never do, son. Ya’d do well to remember that. Good luck, boy. From what I’ve heard, yer’ll need it.”
Eli watched the cart until it had moved away. He briefly wondered what Homer meant—but only briefly. His feet itched to carry him toward the big house visible at the top of the drive as if eager to get him to his destination. Eli threw his saddlebags over his shoulder, pulled his hat down firmly to shield his eyes against the sun, then began to walk.
The sun was hot on his back as he trudged along. Eli could feel sweat running down his spine. Not the most pleasant experience in the world, but he hoped there’d be a bucket of cold water he could clean off in. He smiled as he heard his mother’s voice in the back of his mind.
I swear, Eli, yer the only boy I know who likes to spend more time in the bath than out of it.
She may not have understood his desire to be clean more often than once a week before church, but he was the apple of his mother’s eye, and he knew it. When he’d decided to leave the farm to look for work, she’d tried to talk him out of it, but they both knew he didn’t have a choice. Farming wasn’t for him and they needed the money. Which was why he’d been so quick to accept Jackson’s offer. Usually he’d try to find out a bit about a spread before he worked on it, but the thought of sending more money home to his family had been too tempting an opportunity to pass up. After Homer’s parting remark, though, he hoped he wouldn’t regret that oversight as he drew closer to the house.
He was almost there, wondering whether to go around to the back of the house to the kitchens or head straight to the barn, when he heard someone call his name.
“Hey! Watkins!”
Eli looked to the left of the house where the corral was situated and lifted a hand in greeting to the Somerfield foreman as he walked toward him. “Mr. Jackson, sir! Good to see ya again.”
Jackson stopped in front of him and shook the hand Eli held out. “Was expectin’ ya two days ago, boy. I reckoned ya’d changed ya mind.”
“No, sir. Had a little trouble getting a ride. Had to wait,” Eli explained. “Got me as far as San Antone, where I met a man who let me tag along for the last bit. Name a’ Homer.”
“Homer Petersen.” Jackson nodded. “Owns a farm ’bout five miles from here. Good man. Well, no matter, yer here now.” He turned and waved his arm in the general direction of the corral and other outbuildings. “Welcome to Somerfield Ranch. C’mon.”
Eli hitched his saddlebags higher on his shoulder and fell in step beside Jackson, heading toward the corral. Inside the fenced-off arena, a boy led a horse around in a wide circle. Eli’s lips twitched. The boy couldn’t have been more than seventeen, and the intense concentration on his face reminded Eli of himself at that age. He liked the boy’s technique: the soft, soothing mumblings he uttered and the way the horse responded to each pull on the rope. The kid had potential. Eli could sense it, one horseman to another.
“Willie!” Jackson called out the boy’s name and Willie trotted over to where they leaned on the fence.
“Yes, Mr. Jackson, sir?” Willie’s curious gaze flitted to Eli, but he didn’t acknowledge his presence.
Manners too. Even better.
“Willie, this is Eli Watkins. He’s gonna be breakin’ in the new arrivals.” Jackson turned to Eli to finish the introductions. “Watkins, this is Willie. He’ll be workin’ with ya. Boy’s already got a way with the beasts, an’ I was thinkin’ you might be able to teach him a thing or two.”
“Good to meet ya, Mr. Watkins, sir,” Willie said brightly, tipping his hat at Eli.
“Mr. Watkins is my pa,” Eli replied. “I look forward to workin’ with ya.”
Willie flushed red, and Eli bit back a smile, not wanting to embarrass the boy further.
“C’mon.” Jackson slapped Eli on the shoulder. “Bunkhouse is this way.”
The bunkhouse was behind the corral: a sturdy wooden structure with an open kitchen and dining area. A small corridor led to the sleeping quarters. Eli gazed around him, taking in the ornaments on the wall and the scent of strong coffee filling the room. An older man stood at the stove, stirring something in a large saucepan.
“Bradley,” Jackson said. “This here is Eli Watkins.”
Bradley wiped his hands on a piece of cloth and nodded at Eli. “Heard good things about ya, son. Jackson’s talked ya up a storm since he got back from Dallas.” His gaze slid over Eli from head to toe and he pulled a face. “Yer too skinny. When did ya last eat?”
“Day before yesterday, thereabouts.”
Bradley motioned to the huge wooden table in the center of the room. “Sit. I’ll git ya some vittles while the two of ya talk. The boys’ll be in from the field soon, and then it’ll get real loud around here.”
Eli sat down at the table and pushed his saddlebags under his chair. As the aromatic smell of the beef stew Bradley put in front of him drifted into his nostrils, Eli was pretty sure he was gonna like it here. Getting to work with horses all day, a roof over his head, three squares, and enough money to send extra home to his mama—what could possibly be bad about that?
A couple of hours later, after they’d eaten dinner, dealt with the dishes, and he’d been introduced to the rest of the hands, Eli retired to the barn. The men had seemed like the usual mixed bunch you found on a spread like this—men working to send money to their families, rovers who spent their lives flitting from one spread to another, and the occasional deadbeat who only worked to support their gambling or drinking habits. Eli had met them all in his time. They tended to band together in little groups, and the men on Somerfield land were no different. For the most part, Eli liked to keep to himself, so he was relieved not to be in the bunkhouse with the others.
Jackson had informed him the bunkhouse was overflowing, so he would have to make do with the barn—for the time being, at least. He had assured Eli that there would be a place for him once the rovers moved on after they drove the horses and cattle to Dallas, but Eli didn’t care. Surrounded by the scents and sounds of the ranch was where he was most comfortable.
His mama had called him her lone cowboy, although, squashed in a tiny wooden shack with eight brothers and sisters, moments alone had been few and far between. The thought of making idle conversation with a bunch of rowdy ranch hands after working himself into exhaustion was not his idea of a good time. He’d rather be with the horses.
He lounged with his back against the wooden jamb of the pitching door, legs stretched out in front of him and hat pulled down to shield his eyes as the sun slowly began its descent. The early evening rays cast lengthening shadows around the hayloft, and he inhaled the rich, earthy scent of the bales, then let his breath out on a long, contented sigh.
Eli gazed at the main house and marveled at the folly of men with more than two cents in their pocket. He’d heard about the Somerfield Ranch from one of the rovers on the last spread he’d worked. Heard all about how Somerfield wanted to make his ranch the biggest in San Antone. Hell, the biggest in the whole United States, if he had his way. But staring at the house, a million miles away from the shack he’d been brought up in, it was obvious to Eli that Richard Somerfield had no idea what a ranch house was supposed to look like. Instead of a one-story building like the ones he’d encountered before, the big boss’s home resembled a mix of mausoleum, Mexican hacienda, and a barber shop he’d once seen in Chicagee, except the columns weren’t striped. And there ain’t no hot shave for a nickel.
Snickering quietly to himself, Eli tossed his hat onto the nearest bale and rubbed his hands through his hair, grimacing at the dust flying around him. He scratched at his scalp with blunt nails and moaned softly in disgust as his own stench came up to meet him. He’d have to talk to the foreman and find out if there were any baths in town or a creek where he could clean himself of his journey. The way he stank at the moment would keep the horses awake all night.
“That’s my boy.”
Eli started at the sound of the voice from below the hayloft. He turned over onto his belly, crawled across the hay to the edge of the loft, and peered down into the barn. A man led a beautiful black horse into one of the stalls and proceeded to take off the animal’s tack. Cursing the fact that he couldn’t see the man’s face, Eli watched the gentle ripple of muscles beneath the sweat-dampened cotton shirt sticking to the stranger’s flesh. His gaze traveled lower, over the curve of the most perfect peach of an ass he had ever seen, snug in what looked like deerskin breeches. Eli climbed down the ladder from the hayloft as quietly as he could and stood just out of sight in the darkening gloom of the barn. He strained to get closer to the man who was now checking the magnificent animal’s legs and feet.
The man handled the horse with confidence and a gentle hand. Eli was impressed with the way the man kept up a stream of soft whisperings to the beast as he ran his hands over muscled legs and lifted each hoof in turn. It was the sign of a natural horseman. Eli watched in silence as the object of his fascination turned to hang the bridle on the hook beside the stall. He couldn’t contain his gasp at the glimpse of the square jaw when the cowboy stretched his arms high above his head.
Like honey fresh from the hive. Wonder if he tastes as good as he looks?
Eli had known at a very early age that girls didn’t appeal to him. He knew he was supposed to grow up, meet a nice girl, and have a ranch of his own. But when he’d dreamed of sharing those things with someone, his imagination hadn’t conjured up a simpering girl. His dreams had been of a man with a pretty face and an ass that would fill his palms as he buried himself inside it. Of course, it was against the law—of God and man, people said. But the way he figured it, all he wanted was someone to love and to love him back. How could God be against that? As far as he knew, not one of the Ten Commandments said, “Thou shalt not suck dick.” No longer satisfied with watching, Eli ventured closer and heard the man whisper again to the horse.
“So beautiful.”
Before he could stop himself, Eli said, “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
He could have kicked himself. Stupid, Eli. Real stupid. But when the man spun around, all Eli could do was stare. The movement caused the man’s hat to fall to the ground, and hair the color of burnished gold tumbled onto broad shoulders and fell into eyes the color of coffee beans. A straight nose and full lips, together with a strong jaw and square chin, completed the handsomest face Eli had ever seen outside of those picture postcards Matt Scogie had shown him at the harvest fair.
“Who the blazes are you? What are you doing on this property?” the cowboy snapped, his chin lifting haughtily as he stared Eli down.
“I work here.” Eli crossed his arms and leaned against the stall, lifting his hand to caress the silky black nose of the horse as it came to investigate.
“No you don’t” was the caustic reply. “I know everyone who works here. And I don’t know you.”
“I was hired today, to help break in the new horses, so I guess you don’t know as much as you think you do.”
Eli could tell by the shocked look in those eyes that the man wasn’t used to anyone talking back to him, which intrigued Eli even further. In fact, something in those eyes urged him on, wanting to see what sort of reaction he could get out of the other man. He saw the frustration in darkening eyes, and Eli let his gaze slowly travel the length of the long, lean body, his lips curving into an impudent smile.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Somerfield?”
Somerfield? Shit! Eli flicked a glance over his shoulder at the sound of the foreman’s voice, wondering if he was going to get fired before he’d even started. He was pleasantly surprised when, instead of ratting on him, the cowboy shook his head.
“Everything’s fine, Jackson.” He tossed a cold look Eli’s way, and Somerfield’s perfectly straight nose wrinkled in disgust. “Although there is the all-pervading odor of dead skunk in here. Maybe you could direct the new hand to some soap and water before the stink reaches the house.”
“That’d be the stink of hard work, boss. Dead skunk’s a little earthier,” Eli drawled, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
“I’m not your boss. My name is Samuel Somerfield,” the pretty cowboy said curtly. “And you’ll do well to remember that.”
Watching the man walk away with his head held high, Eli couldn’t resist shouting after him. “Oh, I’ll remember… that won’t be no problem at all.
Buy Links:
DREAMSPINNER
AMAZON
AMAZON.CO.UK
ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS
Blurb:Samuel Somerfield is used to the oppressive heat of the Texas plains, and in the year 1892 things get even hotter when ranch hand Eli Watkins walks onto the job. Every stolen glance, every searing touch from Eli tilts Samuel’s world on its axis. He wants only to spend the rest of his life in Eli’s arms. But Samuel’s cruel and domineering father has other plans for him. Samuel must marry Eleanor Johnston and give his father the social standing he craves. Eli knew falling in love with Samuel would cause problems, yet even he never dreamed Mr. Somerfield would go to such lengths to keep his son and him apart. After Somerfield orders a beating that leaves Eli disfigured and embarrassed, Eli takes a job on another ranch far from Samuel.
News of Samuel’s impending wedding eventually reaches Eli, and he realizes he must return to the man he loves, despite what might await him, and try to save Samuel from a life he was not meant to live.
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
San Antonio. 1892
“ENDA THE trail, son.”
Eli Watkins stretched his arms above his head and grimaced as his own stink filled his nostrils. He groaned loudly and yawned. The trek from Dallas had been long and uncomfortable, his clothes stuck to his skin under the relentless heat of the Texas sun, and his ass was numb from sitting on the unforgiving wooden floor of the cart. He gazed up at the sign atop the tall fence posts and smiled at the single word carved into it: Somerfield.
Eli had been working a spread in Dallas a few weeks ago when Somerfield’s foreman had arrived with some cowboys to take the horses his boss had purchased back to San Antonio. After seeing how Eli handled the animals, Garrett Jackson had offered him a new job for more pay. Eli accepted without hesitation. Everything Jackson told him about Somerfield piqued his interest, especially the “more pay” part. Now he was here, ready to embark on a new chapter, and the familiar tingle of excitement curled his toes in his worn-out boots.
“Ya just gonna sit there?”
Eli grinned at the owner of the gruff voice, then grabbed his saddlebags and stood up. He clambered over the side of the cart and jumped to the ground, his boots sending dust flying in all directions. He’d met the farmer in the saloon in town and gratefully accepted his offer of a ride to the ranch. He only hoped the hospitality that awaited him beyond the imposing sign was as genial as the old man staring down at him.
“Thanks for the ride, Homer.” Eli tipped his hat. “I’m much obliged.”
“Di’n’t cost nothin’,” Homer replied. “Manners never do, son. Ya’d do well to remember that. Good luck, boy. From what I’ve heard, yer’ll need it.”
Eli watched the cart until it had moved away. He briefly wondered what Homer meant—but only briefly. His feet itched to carry him toward the big house visible at the top of the drive as if eager to get him to his destination. Eli threw his saddlebags over his shoulder, pulled his hat down firmly to shield his eyes against the sun, then began to walk.
The sun was hot on his back as he trudged along. Eli could feel sweat running down his spine. Not the most pleasant experience in the world, but he hoped there’d be a bucket of cold water he could clean off in. He smiled as he heard his mother’s voice in the back of his mind.
I swear, Eli, yer the only boy I know who likes to spend more time in the bath than out of it.
She may not have understood his desire to be clean more often than once a week before church, but he was the apple of his mother’s eye, and he knew it. When he’d decided to leave the farm to look for work, she’d tried to talk him out of it, but they both knew he didn’t have a choice. Farming wasn’t for him and they needed the money. Which was why he’d been so quick to accept Jackson’s offer. Usually he’d try to find out a bit about a spread before he worked on it, but the thought of sending more money home to his family had been too tempting an opportunity to pass up. After Homer’s parting remark, though, he hoped he wouldn’t regret that oversight as he drew closer to the house.
He was almost there, wondering whether to go around to the back of the house to the kitchens or head straight to the barn, when he heard someone call his name.
“Hey! Watkins!”
Eli looked to the left of the house where the corral was situated and lifted a hand in greeting to the Somerfield foreman as he walked toward him. “Mr. Jackson, sir! Good to see ya again.”
Jackson stopped in front of him and shook the hand Eli held out. “Was expectin’ ya two days ago, boy. I reckoned ya’d changed ya mind.”
“No, sir. Had a little trouble getting a ride. Had to wait,” Eli explained. “Got me as far as San Antone, where I met a man who let me tag along for the last bit. Name a’ Homer.”
“Homer Petersen.” Jackson nodded. “Owns a farm ’bout five miles from here. Good man. Well, no matter, yer here now.” He turned and waved his arm in the general direction of the corral and other outbuildings. “Welcome to Somerfield Ranch. C’mon.”
Eli hitched his saddlebags higher on his shoulder and fell in step beside Jackson, heading toward the corral. Inside the fenced-off arena, a boy led a horse around in a wide circle. Eli’s lips twitched. The boy couldn’t have been more than seventeen, and the intense concentration on his face reminded Eli of himself at that age. He liked the boy’s technique: the soft, soothing mumblings he uttered and the way the horse responded to each pull on the rope. The kid had potential. Eli could sense it, one horseman to another.
“Willie!” Jackson called out the boy’s name and Willie trotted over to where they leaned on the fence.
“Yes, Mr. Jackson, sir?” Willie’s curious gaze flitted to Eli, but he didn’t acknowledge his presence.
Manners too. Even better.
“Willie, this is Eli Watkins. He’s gonna be breakin’ in the new arrivals.” Jackson turned to Eli to finish the introductions. “Watkins, this is Willie. He’ll be workin’ with ya. Boy’s already got a way with the beasts, an’ I was thinkin’ you might be able to teach him a thing or two.”
“Good to meet ya, Mr. Watkins, sir,” Willie said brightly, tipping his hat at Eli.
“Mr. Watkins is my pa,” Eli replied. “I look forward to workin’ with ya.”
Willie flushed red, and Eli bit back a smile, not wanting to embarrass the boy further.
“C’mon.” Jackson slapped Eli on the shoulder. “Bunkhouse is this way.”
The bunkhouse was behind the corral: a sturdy wooden structure with an open kitchen and dining area. A small corridor led to the sleeping quarters. Eli gazed around him, taking in the ornaments on the wall and the scent of strong coffee filling the room. An older man stood at the stove, stirring something in a large saucepan.
“Bradley,” Jackson said. “This here is Eli Watkins.”
Bradley wiped his hands on a piece of cloth and nodded at Eli. “Heard good things about ya, son. Jackson’s talked ya up a storm since he got back from Dallas.” His gaze slid over Eli from head to toe and he pulled a face. “Yer too skinny. When did ya last eat?”
“Day before yesterday, thereabouts.”
Bradley motioned to the huge wooden table in the center of the room. “Sit. I’ll git ya some vittles while the two of ya talk. The boys’ll be in from the field soon, and then it’ll get real loud around here.”
Eli sat down at the table and pushed his saddlebags under his chair. As the aromatic smell of the beef stew Bradley put in front of him drifted into his nostrils, Eli was pretty sure he was gonna like it here. Getting to work with horses all day, a roof over his head, three squares, and enough money to send extra home to his mama—what could possibly be bad about that?
A couple of hours later, after they’d eaten dinner, dealt with the dishes, and he’d been introduced to the rest of the hands, Eli retired to the barn. The men had seemed like the usual mixed bunch you found on a spread like this—men working to send money to their families, rovers who spent their lives flitting from one spread to another, and the occasional deadbeat who only worked to support their gambling or drinking habits. Eli had met them all in his time. They tended to band together in little groups, and the men on Somerfield land were no different. For the most part, Eli liked to keep to himself, so he was relieved not to be in the bunkhouse with the others.
Jackson had informed him the bunkhouse was overflowing, so he would have to make do with the barn—for the time being, at least. He had assured Eli that there would be a place for him once the rovers moved on after they drove the horses and cattle to Dallas, but Eli didn’t care. Surrounded by the scents and sounds of the ranch was where he was most comfortable.
His mama had called him her lone cowboy, although, squashed in a tiny wooden shack with eight brothers and sisters, moments alone had been few and far between. The thought of making idle conversation with a bunch of rowdy ranch hands after working himself into exhaustion was not his idea of a good time. He’d rather be with the horses.
He lounged with his back against the wooden jamb of the pitching door, legs stretched out in front of him and hat pulled down to shield his eyes as the sun slowly began its descent. The early evening rays cast lengthening shadows around the hayloft, and he inhaled the rich, earthy scent of the bales, then let his breath out on a long, contented sigh.
Eli gazed at the main house and marveled at the folly of men with more than two cents in their pocket. He’d heard about the Somerfield Ranch from one of the rovers on the last spread he’d worked. Heard all about how Somerfield wanted to make his ranch the biggest in San Antone. Hell, the biggest in the whole United States, if he had his way. But staring at the house, a million miles away from the shack he’d been brought up in, it was obvious to Eli that Richard Somerfield had no idea what a ranch house was supposed to look like. Instead of a one-story building like the ones he’d encountered before, the big boss’s home resembled a mix of mausoleum, Mexican hacienda, and a barber shop he’d once seen in Chicagee, except the columns weren’t striped. And there ain’t no hot shave for a nickel.
Snickering quietly to himself, Eli tossed his hat onto the nearest bale and rubbed his hands through his hair, grimacing at the dust flying around him. He scratched at his scalp with blunt nails and moaned softly in disgust as his own stench came up to meet him. He’d have to talk to the foreman and find out if there were any baths in town or a creek where he could clean himself of his journey. The way he stank at the moment would keep the horses awake all night.
“That’s my boy.”
Eli started at the sound of the voice from below the hayloft. He turned over onto his belly, crawled across the hay to the edge of the loft, and peered down into the barn. A man led a beautiful black horse into one of the stalls and proceeded to take off the animal’s tack. Cursing the fact that he couldn’t see the man’s face, Eli watched the gentle ripple of muscles beneath the sweat-dampened cotton shirt sticking to the stranger’s flesh. His gaze traveled lower, over the curve of the most perfect peach of an ass he had ever seen, snug in what looked like deerskin breeches. Eli climbed down the ladder from the hayloft as quietly as he could and stood just out of sight in the darkening gloom of the barn. He strained to get closer to the man who was now checking the magnificent animal’s legs and feet.
The man handled the horse with confidence and a gentle hand. Eli was impressed with the way the man kept up a stream of soft whisperings to the beast as he ran his hands over muscled legs and lifted each hoof in turn. It was the sign of a natural horseman. Eli watched in silence as the object of his fascination turned to hang the bridle on the hook beside the stall. He couldn’t contain his gasp at the glimpse of the square jaw when the cowboy stretched his arms high above his head.
Like honey fresh from the hive. Wonder if he tastes as good as he looks?
Eli had known at a very early age that girls didn’t appeal to him. He knew he was supposed to grow up, meet a nice girl, and have a ranch of his own. But when he’d dreamed of sharing those things with someone, his imagination hadn’t conjured up a simpering girl. His dreams had been of a man with a pretty face and an ass that would fill his palms as he buried himself inside it. Of course, it was against the law—of God and man, people said. But the way he figured it, all he wanted was someone to love and to love him back. How could God be against that? As far as he knew, not one of the Ten Commandments said, “Thou shalt not suck dick.” No longer satisfied with watching, Eli ventured closer and heard the man whisper again to the horse.
“So beautiful.”
Before he could stop himself, Eli said, “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
He could have kicked himself. Stupid, Eli. Real stupid. But when the man spun around, all Eli could do was stare. The movement caused the man’s hat to fall to the ground, and hair the color of burnished gold tumbled onto broad shoulders and fell into eyes the color of coffee beans. A straight nose and full lips, together with a strong jaw and square chin, completed the handsomest face Eli had ever seen outside of those picture postcards Matt Scogie had shown him at the harvest fair.
“Who the blazes are you? What are you doing on this property?” the cowboy snapped, his chin lifting haughtily as he stared Eli down.
“I work here.” Eli crossed his arms and leaned against the stall, lifting his hand to caress the silky black nose of the horse as it came to investigate.
“No you don’t” was the caustic reply. “I know everyone who works here. And I don’t know you.”
“I was hired today, to help break in the new horses, so I guess you don’t know as much as you think you do.”
Eli could tell by the shocked look in those eyes that the man wasn’t used to anyone talking back to him, which intrigued Eli even further. In fact, something in those eyes urged him on, wanting to see what sort of reaction he could get out of the other man. He saw the frustration in darkening eyes, and Eli let his gaze slowly travel the length of the long, lean body, his lips curving into an impudent smile.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Somerfield?”
Somerfield? Shit! Eli flicked a glance over his shoulder at the sound of the foreman’s voice, wondering if he was going to get fired before he’d even started. He was pleasantly surprised when, instead of ratting on him, the cowboy shook his head.
“Everything’s fine, Jackson.” He tossed a cold look Eli’s way, and Somerfield’s perfectly straight nose wrinkled in disgust. “Although there is the all-pervading odor of dead skunk in here. Maybe you could direct the new hand to some soap and water before the stink reaches the house.”
“That’d be the stink of hard work, boss. Dead skunk’s a little earthier,” Eli drawled, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
“I’m not your boss. My name is Samuel Somerfield,” the pretty cowboy said curtly. “And you’ll do well to remember that.”
Watching the man walk away with his head held high, Eli couldn’t resist shouting after him. “Oh, I’ll remember… that won’t be no problem at all.
Buy Links:
DREAMSPINNER
AMAZON
AMAZON.CO.UK
ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS
January 5, 2016
GUEST POST: MOONLIT ESCAPADES (MOONLIT WOLVES 7.5) BY BRONWYN HEELEY
Today's guest is the lovely Bronwyn Heeley with her newest release in the Moonlit Wolves series, Moonlit Escapades....
Moonlit Escapades (Moonlit Wolves 7.5)
TITLE:Moonlit Escapades SERIES:Moonlit WolvesAUTHOR(s): Bronwyn HeeleyPUBLISHED:15/December/2015PUBLISHER:eXtasybooksISBN #:978-1-4874-0539-7COVERARTIST:Carmen WatersWORD COUNT: 12,484CATEGORY/TAG: Paranormal LGBT+ Romance HEAT LEVEL:4COUPLING: male maleBLURB
There is never a time when a visit from old friends isn’t comforting.
Ever wonder how Jex and Matt ended up in that compromising position in book 4?Or what the fight between Phil and Craig was about? Or how about how they all became so close and ended up living together?Well, here’s your chance. All the missing pieces that were linked but not fully explained are bundled together in this heart-warming anthology, and just in time for Christmas, because who doesn’t like to visit from family at this time of year.Note: series must be read in order, but these shorts can be read separately, they’ll just be enjoyed more as companions.
LINKSGoodreadseXtasybooks ǀ Amazon ǀ ARe ǀ Smashwords ǀ Kobo ǀ Barnes&Noble
Excerpt
Jex let out a sigh of relief as he sat back into the lounge. Matt and he hadn’t been in this house for a long time, but he had definitely felt more at home quicker than at any of the other place his father took him.However, his dad hadn’t been the kindest person, and they’d moved from one town to the next, leaving many people hating him because of what his father had done. Matt, with a quick kidnapping and a much-needed getaway, brought Jex to this lovely little town out in the boondocks, an unlikely place his father would never bother to look.They’d reached town and a house full to the brim with men. Matt’s cousin and a bunch of mates had taken them both in and treated Jex like no one had done before Matt.Jex loved the freedom of being himself, even if they all turned out to be a werewolf every time the moon was full. A lot to take in, but he had seen a lot of violence and bullshit in his life, so the werewolf factor seemed like a cakewalk.In addition, he’d personally seen Matt change, so who was he to say something didn’t exist?A cold bottle tapped on his shoulder, making Jex look over his shoulder. He took the bottle.Taking a long drink of this piss-shit that the bottle label said was beer, he studied Matt. His lover rounded the couch and sat down next to him. Jex wasn’t a fan of Tooheys, he was more a VB man, but beggars couldn’t be choosers—or, more for him, lazy arses deserved to drink horse piss. He was, however, a fan of the man—tall, blonde, with deep-set eyes. He was like a walking wet dream. Someone who needed to be naked and fucking so everyone would see his true beauty.He was a fucking dream. Jex’s dream. Even if it had taken the guy a couple of turns to realise just how Matt liked it when Jex fucked him and then give him more than he’d ever understood he wanted. Jex reckoned it came from the fact that he hadn’t ever been free to actually fuck another person before Matt. “Taste like shit?” Matt chuckled next to him.For the first time in a long time—and yet not a first for the thought—Jex wondered what he saw in a man who actually liked this shit. “Why ask when you know the answer,” Jex spat back at him around another mouthful of beer. He was hoping if he drank it fast enough and got the buzz of beer in his system, it might actually start tasting nice.Matt shook his head really slowly. That you’re fucking crazy shake, though the twitch of his lips held the joke. “Fucking arse,” Jex muttered, finishing off his first bottle with a cringe—Fuck! This shit was bad.Matt chuckled again. “Ah, but that’s what you love ‘bout me.”Jex shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips at the words, only his mouth hadn’t even completed the move before Matt’s lips covered his. The move Jex had been waiting for finally came. He snickered softly into Matt’s mouth. They were alone after all. “It makes me feel all gooey inside to see you smile like that, and knowing it’s all mine... gets me hot as hell,” Matt whispered, a breath away from Jex’s lips.Jex’s back arched at the scrape of whiskers against his upper lip. “Gooey?” Jex tried to make it a joke, not being able to deal with the softer sides of love. “Oh, yeah,” Matt moaned theatrically. “It’s like melted lava inside me, mate.” “So you’re a cooked marshmallow?” Jex muttered between the light kisses Matt was giving him. He needed more than the teasing. Already his skin was hot, his cock throbbed. He hated the teasing. Jex needed more... rubbing, thrusting, harder!“Cooked Marshmallow?” Matt pulled back, apparently, finally, thinking around his own cock to what Jex had said. “Shut up, man.” Jex laughed. “How can I think with my cock this hard?”Matt burst out into laughter. Jex shifted back as Matt’s weight transferred onto his knees, since he’d straddled Jex sometime during the kiss.
ABOUT AUTHOR
I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours... da dadadadum, author of MM romance
And to let me know just contact me at one of the following links Email me at beeheeley@gmail.comBlog: www.bronwynheeley.blogspot.com Website: http://beeheeley.wix.com/bronwynheele... www.facebook.com/bronwyn.heeley.5 or on Facebook: www.facebook.com/beeheeleyfacebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/15545... www.twitter.com/bronwynheeleyTsÜ: https://www.tsu.co/Bronwyn_HeeleyTumblr: www.unrandom-randomness.tumblr.comPin... http://www.pinterest.com/beeheeley/Go... plus.google.com/111764061256840145439... http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/...
FULL LINKS
LINKS
WEBSITE http://beeheeley.wix.com/bronwynheeley BLOG www.bronwynheeley.blogspot.com FACEBOOK www.facebook.com/bronwyn.heeley.5 FACEBOOK PAGE www.facebook.com/beeheeley Fb GROUP https://www.facebook.com/groups/15545... TWITTER www.twitter.com/bronwynheeley GOOGLE+ plus.google.com/111764061256840145439 PINTEREST http://www.pinterest.com/beeheeley/ OTHER(s)
BUY LINKS
COMPANY http://www.extasybooks.com/bronwyn-he... AMAZON http://www.amazon.com/Moonlit-Escapades-Wolves-Book-ebook/dp/B019EVL1XU SMASHWORDS https://www.smashwords.com/books/byse... ARe https://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=series&qString=Moonlit+Wolves KOBO https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/sea... B&N http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/bronwyn+heeley?_requestid=556155 GOODREADS https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
Moonlit Escapades (Moonlit Wolves 7.5)TITLE:Moonlit Escapades SERIES:Moonlit WolvesAUTHOR(s): Bronwyn HeeleyPUBLISHED:15/December/2015PUBLISHER:eXtasybooksISBN #:978-1-4874-0539-7COVERARTIST:Carmen WatersWORD COUNT: 12,484CATEGORY/TAG: Paranormal LGBT+ Romance HEAT LEVEL:4COUPLING: male maleBLURB
There is never a time when a visit from old friends isn’t comforting.
Ever wonder how Jex and Matt ended up in that compromising position in book 4?Or what the fight between Phil and Craig was about? Or how about how they all became so close and ended up living together?Well, here’s your chance. All the missing pieces that were linked but not fully explained are bundled together in this heart-warming anthology, and just in time for Christmas, because who doesn’t like to visit from family at this time of year.Note: series must be read in order, but these shorts can be read separately, they’ll just be enjoyed more as companions.
LINKSGoodreadseXtasybooks ǀ Amazon ǀ ARe ǀ Smashwords ǀ Kobo ǀ Barnes&Noble
Excerpt
Jex let out a sigh of relief as he sat back into the lounge. Matt and he hadn’t been in this house for a long time, but he had definitely felt more at home quicker than at any of the other place his father took him.However, his dad hadn’t been the kindest person, and they’d moved from one town to the next, leaving many people hating him because of what his father had done. Matt, with a quick kidnapping and a much-needed getaway, brought Jex to this lovely little town out in the boondocks, an unlikely place his father would never bother to look.They’d reached town and a house full to the brim with men. Matt’s cousin and a bunch of mates had taken them both in and treated Jex like no one had done before Matt.Jex loved the freedom of being himself, even if they all turned out to be a werewolf every time the moon was full. A lot to take in, but he had seen a lot of violence and bullshit in his life, so the werewolf factor seemed like a cakewalk.In addition, he’d personally seen Matt change, so who was he to say something didn’t exist?A cold bottle tapped on his shoulder, making Jex look over his shoulder. He took the bottle.Taking a long drink of this piss-shit that the bottle label said was beer, he studied Matt. His lover rounded the couch and sat down next to him. Jex wasn’t a fan of Tooheys, he was more a VB man, but beggars couldn’t be choosers—or, more for him, lazy arses deserved to drink horse piss. He was, however, a fan of the man—tall, blonde, with deep-set eyes. He was like a walking wet dream. Someone who needed to be naked and fucking so everyone would see his true beauty.He was a fucking dream. Jex’s dream. Even if it had taken the guy a couple of turns to realise just how Matt liked it when Jex fucked him and then give him more than he’d ever understood he wanted. Jex reckoned it came from the fact that he hadn’t ever been free to actually fuck another person before Matt. “Taste like shit?” Matt chuckled next to him.For the first time in a long time—and yet not a first for the thought—Jex wondered what he saw in a man who actually liked this shit. “Why ask when you know the answer,” Jex spat back at him around another mouthful of beer. He was hoping if he drank it fast enough and got the buzz of beer in his system, it might actually start tasting nice.Matt shook his head really slowly. That you’re fucking crazy shake, though the twitch of his lips held the joke. “Fucking arse,” Jex muttered, finishing off his first bottle with a cringe—Fuck! This shit was bad.Matt chuckled again. “Ah, but that’s what you love ‘bout me.”Jex shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips at the words, only his mouth hadn’t even completed the move before Matt’s lips covered his. The move Jex had been waiting for finally came. He snickered softly into Matt’s mouth. They were alone after all. “It makes me feel all gooey inside to see you smile like that, and knowing it’s all mine... gets me hot as hell,” Matt whispered, a breath away from Jex’s lips.Jex’s back arched at the scrape of whiskers against his upper lip. “Gooey?” Jex tried to make it a joke, not being able to deal with the softer sides of love. “Oh, yeah,” Matt moaned theatrically. “It’s like melted lava inside me, mate.” “So you’re a cooked marshmallow?” Jex muttered between the light kisses Matt was giving him. He needed more than the teasing. Already his skin was hot, his cock throbbed. He hated the teasing. Jex needed more... rubbing, thrusting, harder!“Cooked Marshmallow?” Matt pulled back, apparently, finally, thinking around his own cock to what Jex had said. “Shut up, man.” Jex laughed. “How can I think with my cock this hard?”Matt burst out into laughter. Jex shifted back as Matt’s weight transferred onto his knees, since he’d straddled Jex sometime during the kiss.
ABOUT AUTHOR
I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours... da dadadadum, author of MM romance
And to let me know just contact me at one of the following links Email me at beeheeley@gmail.comBlog: www.bronwynheeley.blogspot.com Website: http://beeheeley.wix.com/bronwynheele... www.facebook.com/bronwyn.heeley.5 or on Facebook: www.facebook.com/beeheeleyfacebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/15545... www.twitter.com/bronwynheeleyTsÜ: https://www.tsu.co/Bronwyn_HeeleyTumblr: www.unrandom-randomness.tumblr.comPin... http://www.pinterest.com/beeheeley/Go... plus.google.com/111764061256840145439... http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/...
FULL LINKS
LINKS
WEBSITE http://beeheeley.wix.com/bronwynheeley BLOG www.bronwynheeley.blogspot.com FACEBOOK www.facebook.com/bronwyn.heeley.5 FACEBOOK PAGE www.facebook.com/beeheeley Fb GROUP https://www.facebook.com/groups/15545... TWITTER www.twitter.com/bronwynheeley GOOGLE+ plus.google.com/111764061256840145439 PINTEREST http://www.pinterest.com/beeheeley/ OTHER(s)
BUY LINKS
COMPANY http://www.extasybooks.com/bronwyn-he... AMAZON http://www.amazon.com/Moonlit-Escapades-Wolves-Book-ebook/dp/B019EVL1XU SMASHWORDS https://www.smashwords.com/books/byse... ARe https://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=series&qString=Moonlit+Wolves KOBO https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/sea... B&N http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/bronwyn+heeley?_requestid=556155 GOODREADS https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
December 23, 2015
HAVE A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS AND A FANTABULOUS NEW YEAR!
Hello my lovelies!
I know I've been a bit absent of late, but the muse may well have woken up in time for the New Year! But ssssh, in case she changes her mind and slinks back into hibernation. I know she kept me up last night orchestrating a threesome between a sire and his two sire-ees (I just made that up)!
The last of the presents are waiting to be wrapped (mega organised this year - so no panicked Christmas Eve wrapping for once or screaming at the kids if they happen to wander in on said wrappage) and the air is starting to buzz with excitement. The kids are practically vibrating and I must admit, I'm feeling a little frisson myself as it's the first Christmas me and my honey will be spending together. Even so, with all the bouncing going on around here, I thought I'd better sit down and give you all a heads up about the plan for 2016.
First on the agenda is the release of Before Sundown on the 4 January by Dreamspinner.Blurb: Samuel Somerfield is used to the oppressive heat of the Texas plains, and in the year 1892 things get even hotter when ranch hand Eli Watkins walks onto the job. Every stolen glance, every searing touch from Eli tilts Samuel’s world on its axis. He wants only to spend the rest of his life in Eli’s arms. But Samuel’s cruel and domineering father has other plans for him. Samuel must marry Eleanor Johnston and give his father the social standing he craves.
Eli knew falling in love with Samuel would cause problems, yet even he never dreamed Mr. Somerfield would go to such lengths to keep his son and him apart. After Somerfield orders a beating that leaves Eli disfigured and embarrassed, Eli takes a job on another ranch far from Samuel.
News of Samuel’s impending wedding eventually reaches Eli, and he realizes he must return to the man he loves, despite what might await him, and try to save Samuel from a life he was not meant to live.
This book has been a long time coming and sometimes I thought it would never be finished - but it's almost here and is very close to my heart. I hope you all like it :)
I also have a sequel to Thirst in the pipeline. In it, we will find out more about Lyle's story and whether or not he will find the happiness he was denied by Boyd all those years ago.
The re-vamping (did you see what I did there?) of Forever Dusk is almost done, too and will hopefully be release in January. In it we discover that Sebastian and Jonah were sired by the same vampire and the possible discord this may cause when the man himself shows up - because no vampire is able to refuse his maker's desires and he wants them both.Both covers are made by the fabulous Kellie Dennis of Book Cover by Design
I also re-visit the wonderful city of Venice where my romance, Solo Honeymoon is set. When Theo is dumped by his fiance two days before their wedding, he wants to curl up under the duvet and never come out. His family, however, has other ideas and he finds himself on the three week honeymoon he'd already paid for - alone. There he meets Matteo, beautiful, charming and he's not so sure the man he was going to marry was the soulmate Theo thought he was. There's also the germ of an idea about a man whose son is kidnapped and the mercernary he hires to find him.Plus the niggling at the back of my brain pushing me to tell the story of the tennis pro who finds himself the target of a crazed stalker.
Hell... maybe we'll even pop in on Aiden and Finn to see what they're up to... who knows. And don't forget there'll be more Left at the Crossroads coming soon.
Wow - I'm going to be busier than I thought!
So my lovelies - I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a fab New Year, and look forward to seeing you all in 2016!!!
December 9, 2015
GUEST POST: REBECCA COHEN
HBuylink: Dreamspinner | All Romance | AmazonBlurb: A Treading the Boards Novella
It’s panto season for the Sarky Players, an amateur dramatics society based in Greenwich, South London. With the traditional Christmas play around the corner, it’s time to get ready for more larger than life performances—on and off stage.
While Craig Rosen is happy with his quiet life playing Warhammer and working in a university lab, a new colleague thinks he needs more excitement and drags Craig along to an audition for the Christmas pantomime, Aladdin.
Corporate lawyer Jason Carter accepted he’s gay a little later in life than most, but now divorced and in his late thirties, he’s ready to embrace who he really is. He can’t believe his luck when he runs into Craig at the audition and the cute younger man agrees to help him navigate his new life. There’s no doubting the attraction between Craig and Jason, but with Craig’s insecurities and Jason still finding his way, they’ll need to make sure they don’t veer off script.
Treading the Boards Series
Overly Dramatic
Summer Season
Bio and Links:
Rebecca Cohen is a Brit abroad. Having swapped the Thames for the Rhine, she has left London behind and now lives with her husband and baby son in Basel, Switzerland. She can often be found with a pen in one hand and a cup of Darjeeling in the other.
Blog: http://rebeccacohenwrites.wordpress.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/R_Cohen_writes
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rebecca.cohen.710
DSP author page: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_462
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Rebecca-Cohen/e/B007UEFIXS/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
Excerpt:
Chapter One
THE LAB door banged open. Craig flinched and failed to maintain a grip on the bottle of buffer he was holding. He swore loudly as it hit the floor, smashed, and sent glass flying everywhere.
“Oh shit. Sorry, Craig,” said Stuart, the new postdoc who’d burst into the lab. “I’ll help you clear it up.”
Craig grabbed a roll of blue paper towels. “There’s a dustpan and brush under the sink.”
Stuart trotted off, and Craig removed his samples from the benchtop centrifuge and returned them to the fridge. The accident sorted his dilemma of whether he’d run one more gel before the weekend.
Stuart collected up the glass, and Craig mopped up the liquid. “Make sure you use the right bin or Kevin will kill you,” Craig said.
“Kevin?”
“Our research assistant. He’s on holiday this week, but you’ll meet him Monday, and trust me, you don’t want to risk Kevin’s ire by slightly disturbing his extraordinarily complicated system.”
Stuart threw away the last of the glass. “You ready? You’re still coming out, right?”
“Yeah, give me a minute to sort out my bench, and I’m good to go.”
Craig wiped down his bench and tidied away his pipettes, liking to leave everything just right to put him in the best frame of mind on Monday morning.
He’d originally hoped to use his experiment as an excuse not to go to the impromptu evening out Stuart had suggested, but now he had no reason or inclination to remain at work. Friday night in Central London was something he usually avoided, preferring to wind down from the week by playing one of the online games he followed or going somewhere a little farther out of the city center, somewhere the clientele were less likely to be of the rich-suited-knob variety.
Several other members of the lab stood chatting in the corridor as Craig and Stuart emerged. Craig zipped up his light jacket, looped his messenger bag across his chest, and awaited instructions. The lab often went out for drinks, but Trish, another of the experienced postdocs, had given up on trying to get Craig out on a regular basis. Unfortunately Stuart had been more insistent, and his gaydar was much better tuned than most.
“Where we going?”
“We thought Jerusalem,” Stuart said, herding their colleagues in the general direction of the exit.
“Which one’s that?”
“I’d think that working here you’d have known the local area better.”
Considering Craig had worked at the Medical Research Centre labs in Bloomsbury for over four years, Stuart had a point. “I studied in a different bit of London. But working for University College doesn’t make me want to rub shoulders with the undergrads during term time. Some of them don’t have an off switch.”
Stuart nudged him with his shoulder. “Well, aren’t you the gregarious one. Cheer up, Craig. It’s just a few beers. I’ve not asked for your firstborn or your Warhammer 40,000: Collector’s Edition Mini Rulebook.”
“Ha-bloody-ha. I’m perfectly happy, thank you.” Typical that Stuart was one of the cool geeks. He had picked up on Craig’s throwaway comments about Star Trek that had gone over everyone else’s head, and had already worked out Craig’s favorite places in Nerd-dom. “I just don’t know this bit of town.”
They headed down a set of steps to an underground bar called Jerusalem, which Craig supposed could’ve been a lot worse—it only vaguely reminded him of a bomb shelter. Stuart clapped him on the back. “My round.”
“No, let me. You won’t have been paid yet, and I know what it’s like to survive the gap between PhD and postdoc.”
Stuart shook his head. “No, I’m good. My partner’s not exactly short of cash, and he’s already at the bar.”
Craig looked at the bar. Stuart pointed out a blond guy, and Craig thought he was more than gorgeous, beautiful even. Stuart wasn’t exactly bad on the eye, and the two of them together would be striking. Craig blinked away the image of Stuart and his partner entwined. He really needed a boyfriend if his overactive imagination was providing him with flashes of his colleagues. “Oh, well, I’ll have a lager. Whatever’s on tap is fine.”
Trish grabbed Craig’s arm as Stuart went off to the bar. “We’ve got a table, but we’re short a seat. You’ll need to find a stool.”
She must have reapplied her perfume before leaving, because the strong waft that assaulted Craig made his eyes water. “Will do.”
Her ponytail swinging behind her, Trish dragged Katy, the newish PhD student, away with her to where the rest of the lab had bagged a table. Despite the bar being busy, Craig spotted a free stool a few tables away. A group of four had a spare seat, although they were using it as a bag stand. Craig pointed to it. “Would you mind if I took this?”
A young red-haired woman grabbed her bag and smiled. The guy sitting opposite her smirked, looked Craig up and down, and licked his lips. “Oh, for someone as adorable as you, I think we can allow it. It might cost you, though.”
“Si, stop teasing,” said the redhead with a sigh. “Sorry about him. One too many margaritas,” she said to Craig. “Please take it.”
Si winked at him, and Craig thought it best to avoid him for the rest of the evening. The guy had a cocky manner. He was attractive and knew it, with his shiny black hair and chiseled chin. The way he presented himself—designer suit and expensive haircut—made Craig think he wasn’t used to taking no for an answer. The sooner Craig legged it, the better.
“Thanks.”
Craig hurried away, but not before he heard the redhead say, “Si, can’t you behave for once? You don’t even know he’s gay.”
“Of course he is, Di. Geeky and gay. My favorite for a bit of fun—always so desperate.”
Craig tried not to let the words hurt, but it was hard to ignore the truth. He carried the stool over to the table, refusing to dwell on his pathetic love life. Even the geeks he’d dated had moved on to someone better, to guys who weren’t as socially awkward or boring as Craig, once the shine of his Warhammer status waned.
Stuart had arrived at the table with his boyfriend, who he introduced as Ryan, and Craig squeezed into the gap left between Trish and Stuart toward the end of the table.
Small talk was not one of his best skills, but he forced himself to make an effort. “So you’ve survived the first week. No plans to run screaming for the hills?”
“Can I reserve judgment until the end of the month? It’s taken most of the week to get access to the university computer systems and get my staff pass.”
“You’re doing well,” said Trish. “But you should double-check with Senate House that they’ve got your bank details right. They messed up mine, and I nearly couldn’t pay my rent that first month.”
Ryan laughed and nudged Stuart. “You’ll have to be extra nice to your landlord if that happens.”
“I told you I had a nonmonetary payment scheme worked out for emergencies, but you weren’t interested.” Stuart blew a raspberry at Ryan. “Apart from being rich, attractive, and normally a nice guy, I have no idea why I put up with you.”
Craig couldn’t help but be envious. Stuart had mentioned they hadn’t been together long, but a whirlwind romance had escalated into more. They made a lovely couple, and Craig wished he had someone waiting for him at home after a long day in the lab.
Before he knew it, they were ready for the fourth round. Stuart and Ryan were great company, so for once Craig wasn’t itching to go home. Ryan had even somehow managed to convince him to come along to an open audition at the amateur dramatics group they belonged to. Once Ryan learned Craig lived in Deptford, only a couple of stops away on the Docklands Light Railway, he wouldn’t let Craig refuse. Maybe it would be good for him to have a social life outside his computer and gaming meetups. He got to his feet at the call for the next round. “My turn.”
“You need a hand?” asked Trish.
“Nah, I’ll get a tray.”
The queue for the bar was several people deep, and Craig checked his phone while waiting to be served. He had a few game notifications and an offer from his credit card company, but nothing of any consequence. At least reading his e-mail meant he didn’t accidently make eye contact with anyone.
Once he’d been served, he realized he didn’t have room for all the drinks on the tray and would have to come back for his pint.
“I’ll keep an eye on it for you,” offered the guy standing next to him, who, Craig realized too late, was Si from the table where he’d got his stool. Si grinned.
Craig had a sudden thought that he should be wearing a red riding hood. “Er, thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Si winked at him.
Craig scurried away with the tray of drinks, intending to come back to grab his pint and return to the table again as fast as possible.
The bar had cleared a bit by the time he went to retrieve his pint. He hoped Si would have collected his own drink and pissed off back to his friends, but no such luck.
“There you are. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.”
Craig reached out to pick up his pint, but Si took hold of his arm. “I hope you aren’t rushing off.”
“I need to get back to my friends.”
“I’m sure they can cope for a little while without you.”
Craig tried to shrug off Si’s hand. “I need to go.”
“Oh, come on, we can have a little fun. What do you say to me letting you suck my cock?”
“What?” He aimed for outraged, but it came out more like a deranged squawk.
“You’re gagging for it. I can smell the desperation. I bet you can’t even remember the last time you got laid. Here I am, offering you a simply wonderful opportunity.”
Craig could tell Si was the wrong side of sober, and he tried to dislodge Si’s hand. “Let go of me.”
“Feisty!” Si swayed a little and grabbed Craig’s arm harder.
“Look, Dick For Brains, the guy’s not interested, so fuck off to whatever sewer you crawled out of.” A hand reached from behind Craig and pulled Si’s hand away. “Piss off and leave him alone.”
Craig turned to see a man—at best guess, in his late thirties with dark brown hair and a square jaw. He was dashing in a knight-in-shining-armor way, although dressed in a suit with his shirt collar open, rather than chain mail. Craig supposed he should be incensed another man thought he needed rescuing, but he was far too relieved to be upset.
Si scowled. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Someone with a black belt in judo who doesn’t like arseholes picking on people in bars.”
Si snorted. “Fancy a piece yourself, I bet. You can have the dorky thing. No loss.”
Craig watched Si stagger off before turning back to his savior. “Thanks.”
“Sorry. I wouldn’t normally butt in, but you looked like you needed a bit of support.”
“I’m not very good with conflict.” Craig reached out and claimed his pint. “He’d have got bored eventually, most people do, but I’m glad you helped.”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll find a willing body if he can stay standing long enough. He’s lucky he didn’t try it on with someone who’d take offense.”
“I am a bit offended. Strange men don’t usually assume I’ll suck their cock on demand.”
“I didn’t mean that. I mean some guys wouldn’t like being hit on by another man. They’d have punched him into next week.”
Craig didn’t think he’d have the balls to hit someone, but it wasn’t Si’s sex that had been the issue. “Being hit on was a problem, not him being a guy.”
“You are gay, then?”
Craig thought it an odd question to ask someone you didn’t know. He took a sip of his pint before answering. “Yes….”
“Sorry, you must think me a complete twat. I’m new to all this.”
“All this?”
The man chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, an impossibly endearing action that had Craig’s imagination running away with itself. “Yeah. Let’s say I’m late to the game and still figuring out the rules.”
“I’m not sure I know the rules any better. In fact, you could say I’m pretty rubbish at most games that aren’t coded in C++.”
“Eh?”
“That was a bit geeky. It’s computer code. Well, one of them, and of course it depends on the game and the platform.”
“Right.”
A wave of awkwardness swept through him as Craig realized he’d geeked out in front of a rather sexy older man. Still, the encounter would keep his right hand busy for a while, as long as he left before he could embarrass himself further. “I should get back to my friends.”
“Yeah, I’d better go myself. I needed a beer after the day I’ve had.”
“Least it’s the weekend.” Craig gave him a quirky little smile that was meant to say good-bye but probably made him look like a worried poodle. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Anytime.”
