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Archive for the ‘New Release’ Category

My guest today is that most delightful of things, a brand new shiny author just out of the wrappings. So, if you like, you can view this post as being a bit like one of those unboxing videos?

I certainly ‘unboxed’ the ARC of Golden and found it to be huge fun – pirates, dragons and harem boys – what’s not to like?

Anyhow, here’s RL Mosswood. Welcome and thanks for being such a good sport about answering my questions.

~*~*~

Can you tell me a little about yourself? For instance, do you have to have a day job as well as being a writer?
Oh yes! I actually pay the bills by originating mortgages, which is more than a full time job because people get very keyed up by the process around buying a house. I’m regularly texting with clients at 9 and 10 at night, and working on emergency approvals over the weekend. I also dabble in audiobook narration and my partner and I grow, preserve, and cook most of our own food on our homestead which is a job in itself.

When you aren’t writing, is there any other creative activity you enjoy? Have you ever written about it?

Everything. I’m a huge crafter. I crochet, knit, sew, spin, paint a little… I haven’t written about it much, but one of the main characters in my current work in progress is a fiber artist who raises sheep. He’s more accomplished than I am, but the idea wouldn’t have ocurred to me in the first place if it wasn’t something I enjoyed myself.

What are you reading? Can you recommend something that you wished you’d written yourself?

I’ve been so overwhelmed with harvest season and the Golden release that I’ve gotten really behind on my to-be-read list. Your book, The Bones of Our Fathers, is actually what’s up on my e-reader right now. I’ve been working my way through it one chapter a night by reading it to my five year old at bedtime (I stop reading out loud if things get steamy).

In that crucial inspiration stage of a new story which comes first? Plot, situation or character?

I often start with a feel. A setting, a mood, a few bits of description that sort of set the tone. From there, I start to get the idea of the kind of story that could happen in that setting and the kinds of characters that would exist there. The story and characters evolve together, informing one another as the whole thing develops.
Do your characters arrive fully fledged and ready to fly or do they develop as you work with them? Do you have a crisp mental picture of them or are they more a thought and a feeling than an image?

They definitely develop as I write. For instance, I had an idea of Hathar when I started: strong, capable, devil-may-care with confidence bordering on swagger, but I had no idea he was funny until he started saying things that made me laugh.

Is there any genre you would love to write, ditto one you would avoid like a rattlesnake?

I love historical, and would love to write historical, but given that I can barely find time to write at all, I feel like I wouldn’t get anything done if I had to add in time to research all the little details that I would want to get right. Some day, when the kid is grown and I have more leisure time, I’ll dig out my list of plot bunnies and start working through the ones I can’t do justice to right now.

What inspired you to write about dragons and harems and treasure?

This is exclusive content I’ll only admit to here: 10 months ago, I was at a queer fiction convention with only the tiniest inkling that it might be fun to try my hand at writing something of my own. There was a call for submissions at the back of the program that became the seed of the idea for Golden. It was all an experiment really, to see if I could even write a story that was more than a couple of pages. Turns out, I can.

What are you working on at the moment? Can you discuss it or do you prefer to keep it a secret until it’s finished.

It might be a little too strong to say that I’m “working on” it, because that implies that I’m currently making progress, but the next thing in the queue is a contemporary romance that takes place on a permaculture sheep farm. It’s fairly quiet and down to earth, based a lot in my real experiences – pretty much the opposite of the fantasy adventure that is Golden, but I hope readers will stick with me and enjoy it.

Could we please have an excerpt of something?

A sample from Golden:

The baths were unlike anything Hathar had ever seen. Granted, it was a palace, so he had expected luxury, but not on this scale. Large enough to easily accommodate twenty men, the room was completely clad in glowing white marble interrupted only by tasteful, intricate mosaics of fanciful sea creatures. It was filled with warm, diffuse light from windows slatted for privacy and vast domes on the ceiling that seemed to be made of a thick, translucent glass. Past an assortment of platforms and benches for preening and lounging, a steaming pool set into the floor took up a large corner of the room. Constantly refreshed by water bubbling forth from the mouths of carved stone fish that appeared to be eternally leaping from the walls above, the pool overflowed into discreet drains set around its edges. As Hathar gawked at the opulent room, the young man who had taken him from the guard was preparing himself for the baths, removing his shirt and hanging it on one of a series of hooks carved into the stone near the door. Hathar looked back now, just in time to see him shucking off his loosely fitted silken trousers. This was another kind of opulence. The boy’s beauty was at least the equal of the room. His form was slender, but not scrawny. His skin was smooth and full over the contours of his modest muscles, a testament to a life without lack and plenty of tender care. He was fair, but there was a golden undertone to his complexion that was echoed in the burnished gold of his curls and his uncanny amber eyes, which came into view as he straightened. Whoever ran this place had taste, Hathar had to give them that.

~*~*~

Golden

Author: R.L. Mosswood

Release Date: September 25, 2017

ISBN: 978-1-947139-91-6
Format: ePub, Mobi, PDF

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Category: Romance
Genre: Sci-Fi/Fantasy
Word Count: 33500

Sex Content: Explicit
Pairing: MM
Orientation: Bisexual, Demisexual, Gay
Identity: Cisgender

Purchase Links:

NineStar Press: https://ninestarpress.com/product/golden/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B075DG7WCD/
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/golden-rl-mosswood/1127062192?ean=2940154536094
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/extreader/read/746310/1/golden
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/golden-34

Golden

Book Blurb
Harem boy might not be the most appropriate role for someone who’s never really seen the appeal of sex, but Elin’s status as dahabi: golden in a land of tan and brown, has marked him for The Dragon’s service since birth. He’s content enough with his life of uncomplicated, if restrictive, luxury, until an unremarkable chore becomes a case of love at first sight.
Mysterious newcomer Hathar, a roguish “merchant adventurer” from far-off lands, ignites an exploration of Elin’s first taste of physical desire, as well as a desire to experience life beyond the palace. Now, they must find a way to escape The Dragon’s clutches before Hathar’s ship departs, stranding them forever as dahabi of the haram.

If you’d like to follow R L Mosswood she can be found on her website here.

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So that lovely lady at Signal Boost Promotions is running a Blog Tour for me right now with a nice little Rafflecopter giveaway attached. The winner will get a paperback copy of the book and there may possibly be another special gift too.

Check out the list:

August 21 – Love Bytes
August 22 – The Way She Reads, BooksLaidBareBoys, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Nerdy Dirty and Flirty
August 23 – The Novel Approach
August 24 – Love That’s Out of This World
August 25 – MM Good Book Reviews
August 28 – Sinfully MM Romance
August 29 – Zipper Rippers, Sexy Erotic Xciting, Padme’s Library, Bayou Book Junkie, The Geekery Book Review, Louise Lyons
August 30 – Rainbow Gold Reviews
September 1 – Making It Happen
September 4 – Bayou Book Junkie
September 6 – Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words
September 8 – Diverse Reader
September 11 – My Fiction Nook

Some of the posts are blog posts, some are reviews. I’m filled with my usual mix of curiosity and trepidation about what people will think!

Meantime, many thanks to Signal Boost!

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This one is a bit edgy for me because it’s my first proper try at a contemporary story so I tried to write something I knew about – life in a small town – with a profession I knew a bit about – working in a small cash-strapped museum.

It was sheer self indulgence to make the love interest a heavy plant operator because I do love the big machines. In the archaeological world those huge scary things can be used with considerable finesse. They are also appealing on their own account – all that power!

It’s also an edgy release day because the book is supposed to be the first of a series set in the fictional town of Pemberland which, if it existed, would be just off the A465 and alongside the River Monnow about where Ewyas Harold is now.

So, a big new project that’ll keep me going for a good few years, I should think. Book 2, Close Shave, is about half written!


Available today from Manifold Press

THE BONES OF OUR FATHERS

Blurb:

“The bones of our fathers cannot lie.”

Malcolm Bright, brand new museum curator in a small Welsh Border town, is a little lonely until – acting as emergency archaeological consultant on a new housing development – he crosses the path of Rob Escley, aka Dirty Rob, who makes Mal’s earth move in more ways than one.

Then Rob discovers something wonderful, and together they must combat greedy developers and a treasure hunter determined to get his hands on the find. Are desperate measures justified to save the bones of our fathers? Will Dirty Rob live up to his reputation? Do museum curators really do it meticulously?

Answers must be found for the sake of Mal’s future, his happiness and his heart.

Buy Links:

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B073JM29TD/
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073JM29TD/
Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-bones-of-our-fathers
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/733184

Now available – a cracking action adventure from Lisa Worrall.

Looking For Jesse

Blurb:

Life is full of decisions and it’s the split-second ones that change your world forever.

Nick Shepherd made such a decision on the day his son, Jesse, was taken from a Christmas market in Naperville. The woman looked normal and had a son of her own, and he was only going to be a minute. But that minute was all she needed. His son was gone.

A year later, the task force is being downsized and they are no closer to finding Jesse than they were the day he disappeared. At his wits end, Nick is given a number and a name by the lead on the case.

Ex-detective Frank Ford has issues, several of them. Two steps shy of a full-blown alcoholic, all he wants is to bury himself in the bottle. He’s doing a pretty good job of it, too, when Nick Shepherd asks for his help. Does Ford want to help? No. Is Ford going to help? Hell no. Until four words resonated deep within him.

“She took my son!”

Excerpt:

Tapping the woman in front of them on the shoulder, Nick made an executive decision.
“Excuse me,” he said as she turned around. “My son left his mitten at the seating area over there but I don’t want him to miss his turn. Would you mind watching him for a minute while I run over and find it?”
The woman’s kindly brown eyes took in Jesse’s tear-soaked face and the length of the line then smiled. “Of course,” she replied. “But be quick, I think they’re rushing the kids through so they get in as many as they can before closing.”
“Like there’s fire coming out of my as—sorry, butt—sorry.” Nick stumbled over the words but she only laughed and waved her hand.
“Go!”
“Thanks,” Nick said gratefully and quickly hugged Jesse to him. “I’ll be right back, buddy, okay? You just stand here with this nice lady and I’ll be so quick you won’t even notice I’ve gone.”
Jesse looked at him warily but the woman smiled and said, “He’ll be fine with me and Marcus, won’t you?” Jesse gave a hesitant nod and Nick hit the ground running.
The mitten Gods must have been smiling down on him because he found it under the table where they’d been sitting almost immediately. He heaved a huge sigh of relief and dashed back to Santa’s Grotto, mitten held high like a victory torch so Jesse could see.
Nick made good on his promise, he was back in just over a minute, if a little out of breath. Promising himself he’d tell Daisy to stop bringing in donuts to work, he headed to the front of the line. He smiled as he slowed his approach, not wanting to slip on the frozen ground. Nick was surprised to see Jesse still held the woman’s hand. Although Jesse was an affectionate kid, he was also very cautious and took a while to warm up to new people. A hand tightened around Nick’s heart. It had been a long time since Jesse had felt a motherly touch. Even when they’d sat on the couch watching TV, Jesse’s hand had always been curled around Anna’s.
“I got it, dude!” Nick said jubilantly, putting his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “It was right whe—”
The words caught in his throat as the boy turned and so did the woman holding his hand. “Hey!” she yelled, pulling the boy toward her.
“I’m sorry.” Nick held up his hands. “I thought you were… my….” He spun on his heel, his gaze flitting all around him. “Jesse!” His name echoed on the cold evening air. “Jesse! My son? Where’s my son?” Nick grabbed the woman’s forearm and her eyes widened in horror. “My son!” he repeated. What was wrong with her? Why was she looking at him like that?
“Hey, man, take it easy.” That came from a big, bald man a couple of spaces down the line.
Nick ignored him and shook the terrified woman. “My son, he was here. Right here. Where is he? You must have seen him!”
“Sir, is there a problem?”
Nick looked at the woman dressed in a short-skirted elf costume and the burly security guard behind her. He dropped the frightened woman’s arm and ran shaking hands through his hair. “My son,” he said again. Why was no one listening to him? “He was right here! Where is he?” He turned back to the dark-haired woman who now clasped her son to her tightly. “You saw him. You must have. He was with the other woman and the boy. I just went to find his… his mitten.” Nick waved it pathetically, the woolen mitten still clutched firmly in his fingers. “I found… it.”
“The little blond boy?” the elf asked.
“Yes!” Nick tried not to scream but panic, raw and heavy bubbled deep within him. He tried to push it down, but he could taste it in the back of his throat. “He was here. Right here. I was only gone—”
“She left.”
“She left?” Nick shook his head. “What do you mean she left? Where. Is. My. Son?”
The elf turned her concerned gaze on the security guard, who stepped forward and put a firm hand on Nick’s shoulder. Spots dotted Nick’s peripheral vision as his brain tried to force him to accept what she was saying.
“Sh-she said there was an emergency. That they had to go.”
“Go?”
“I-I thought you were together,” she stuttered. “Oh, my God. I didn’t know. I thought you were toge—”
“Where is my son?” Nick knew what the answer was going to be, but he had to hear it. “Where is my son!”
“Sh-she took him.”

Looking For Jesse

Buy Links:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

 

Author Bio:

Lisa in her own words:

I live in Leigh on Sea, a small seaside town just outside London on the coast of Essex, about ten minutes from Southend, which boasts the longest pier in the world. I live with my husband and two ever-growing children, who I let think are the boss of me; along with two dogs who actually are.

As the wonderful Beatrix Potter said, “There is something delicious about writing the first words of a new story. You never quite know where they’ll take you.” I know exactly what she means.

Website: http://lworrall.blogspot.com/

Facebook: Lisa Worrall Author

Twitter: Lisa_Worrall

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What’s Up, Pussycat?

Release date: July 7, 2017
Length: 24,300 words
Cover Design: Simon Searle

 

Blurb
Finley Harrington despairs of ever being able to move on after the death of Andrew, the love of his life. When he spots an advertisement for auditions for Cats, the last musical Andrew performed in, Finley acts on the spur of the moment and calls for an appointment to audition.
Much to Fin’s surprise, he gets the part he hopes for, but during his struggles with stage-fright, and the teasing of a fellow actor, Karl Rogers, he wonders if he’s made a huge mistake. But Karl’s irritating persona hides a different person inside, and when Fin gets to know him, he develops a surprising attraction to him.
Could Karl be the person to help Fin move on from the past, or is he destined to remain alone?

Free Download Links

Amazon UKAmazon USSmashwordsBarnes & NobleKobo

Excerpt:

The members of the cast began arriving half an hour later when the three of us were warming up, and my impression of the first man through the door was one of shock. I’d seen Karl Rogers who played Rum Tum Tugger from a distance a few times when I attended the shows in Leicester, but never without his cat costume. He was tall—at least six feet—and his shock of peroxide hair and startling green eyes drew everyone’s attention. His lycra leggings emphasized a large package, and a bright orange cropped T-shirt and matching ballet shoes completed his outfit. He charged into the room like a whirlwind.

“So! Who do we have here?” he shouted, looming over Annette and me, where we stood stretching our hamstrings. “You look weirdly familiar.” He jabbed a finger in my direction, before turning his attention to Annette. “What a pretty kitty. What’s your name, then, darling?” He pronounced the endearment “dahling” and I cringed. I hoped the rest of the cast weren’t like Karl. I’d met a couple of them, but I preferred to keep my distance and monopolize Andrew when the shows were over.

“Annette,” the girl said. “And that’s Finley. The other guy is James.”

Karl spun around to look at James, gave him a cursory nod, then turned back to me. He took a step closer, forcing me to look up.

“Cute!” Karl exclaimed. “Cat got your tongue?” He proceeded to shriek with laughter at his lame joke, and my face heated under the scrutiny.

“I’ve not had the chance to get a word in,” I blurted, and immediately cringed. My voice tended to sound more refined when I was irritated. I couldn’t help my parents or the school I’d gone to, but for the past few years I’d done my best to shake off the accent and sound more like everyone else. I knew Karl would say something, even before he opened his mouth again.

“Ooh, someone swallowed a silver spoon, didn’t they? Wait. Finley? Finley Harrington? Golly, I’m surprised Mummy and Daddy let their little boy do something as lower class as performing on the stage. Shouldn’t you be a lawyer or a doctor or something?” Karl spoke in an exaggerated tone, and my face burned.

“Wow, someone loves himself.” James moved to my side and cocked an eyebrow at Karl.

“I have a sense of humor. You should try it some time.” Karl laughed, and James scowled at him. The boisterous dancer ignored him, and draped an arm around Annette’s shoulders. “You never told me your name, Kitty.”

“Yes, I did. It’s Annette.”

 

Author Bio

Louise Lyons comes from a family of writers. Her mother has a number of poems published in poetry anthologies, her aunt wrote poems for the church, and her grandmother sparked her inspiration with tales of fantasy.

Louise first ventured into writing short stories at the grand old age of eight, mostly about little girls and ponies. She branched into romance in her teens, and MM romance a few years later, but none of her work saw the light of day until she discovered FanFiction in her late twenties. Posting stories based on some of her favourite movies, provoked a surprisingly positive response from readers. This gave Louise the confidence to submit some of her work to publishers, and made her take her writing “hobby” more seriously.

Louise lives in the UK, about an hour north of London, with a mad dog called Casper, and a collection of tropical fish and tarantulas. She works in the insurance industry by day, and spends every spare minute writing. She is a keen horse-rider, and loves to run long-distance. Some of her best writing inspiration comes to her, when her feet are pounding the open road. She often races home afterward, and grabs pen and paper to make notes.

Louise has always been a bit of a tomboy, and one of her other great loves is cars and motorcycles. Her car and bike are her pride and job, and she loves to exhibit the car at shows, and take off for long days out on the bike, with no one for company but herself.

Social Media

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/louiselyonsauthor
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/louiselyons013
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/louiselyons013
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/louiselyons013
Blog: http://www.louiselyonsauthor.com
Email: louiselyons013@gmail.com

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And just to put a cherry on it, here’s the brand new and utterly charming release from Lillian Francis.

Just Hanging Out

 

Only 99p

 

The Blurb

“Come and honour the Oak King.”

The countdown to the company solstice picnic is one of Shawn’s favourite times of the year. The scents of sage, mint, basil, sunflower, and lavender fill the air as the workshop mixes up the final batch of Litha, their solstice soap. It’s celebration time! This year, Shawn has an extra spring in his step, and it’s all for the new buyer, Tim. Shawn’s fine having a crush on the gorgeous new straight guy. Until he isn’t.

As the clock ticks down to Picnic-Day, Shawn’s confidence and Tim’s sexuality become mired in doubt and second guesses. It’s a minefield of embarrassed glances and missed opportunities. Seems like they’ll never get together…

To cap it all, Shawn’s drawn Tim in the secret solstice gifting. What to get for the quiet man who turns Shawn’s legs to jelly and has the best underwear hanging from the washing line in his garden? And will that tempting rainbow of colour be forever seared onto Shawn’s brain?

Word count: ~16700

Cover designed by Lillian Francis at Finally Love Press

Buy Links:

// Payhip // Smashwords // Amazon UK // Amazon Universal // Amazon US //

Add it to your Goodreads bookshelf here.

 

About the Author

Lillian Francis is a self-confessed geek who likes nothing more than settling down with a comic or a good book, except maybe writing. Given a notepad, pen, her Kindle, and an infinite supply of chocolate Hob Nobs and she can lose herself for weeks. Romance was never her reading matter of choice, so it came as a great surprise to all concerned, including herself, to discover a romance was exactly what she’d written, and not the rollicking spy adventure or cosy murder mystery she always assumed she’d write.

http://lillianfrancis.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter @LillianFrancis_

Facebook

Facebook Author Page

Goodreads

Sign up for my newsletter

Email: lillianfrancis@rocketmail.com

 

Excerpt

“Come on, everyone. Time to honour the Oak King.” Miriam stood in the centre of the office and jiggled a deep wooden bowl, exquisitely carved with the face of the Green Man. “Come and pick your giftee.”

Yes, I did say Oak King. Miriam’s a new-age hippie, whose 100% natural soap has taken her from cooking the stuff up in her kitchen and selling it from a stall at various markets, to a thriving shop and workshop with a staff of twenty plus. We’ve branched out into candles in the last few years, but it’s the soap, especially the seasonal range, that brings in the punters. Oh, and she’s a Pagan. Hence, the honouring the Oak King statement.

Don’t worry. There’s no sacrifice involved. We have a massive picnic on the Downs on Midsummer’s Eve, drink too much local ale, and the Oak King—normally Ali from Packaging, in a headdress made of antlers and a myriad of leaves, flowers, and herbs—hands out our jokey gifts. Then we settle in to watch the sunset and bid the Oak King farewell for another six months. In other words, it’s a chance to eat well, drink better, and have a laugh, all the while showing appreciation for an amazing boss and honouring her beliefs, even if we’re a mix of Christians, Muslims, Hindus, and atheists. Dunno why the atheists can’t have their own capital letter. Me, I’m probably an agnostic with Taoist leanings.

“You too, Shawn,” Miriam called over to me. “Stop hogging the copier and grab a name.”

I glanced at my watch and then flicked my gaze surreptitiously out the window. Still time. If I was quick, and Miriam didn’t choose that moment to chat, I could be back at my station without missing a moment of the action. Shaking a leg, and my impressively pert behind, I slipped in between two of the admin clerks and plucked a slip of paper from the pot. Without bothering to even glimpse at the name written on it, I stuffed the folded slip into the front pocket of my jeans and returned to the photocopier. One more glance at the time—8:52—and I pressed the button to start my items printing.

There were enough pages in this print run to keep me at the copier for a good few minutes. I saved up all but the most urgent for these five minutes just before nine. It was a routine I’d been keeping for the last few months. As the copier warmed up after a night of inaction, with the gentle whirr of reanimated machinery, I took a moment to enjoy the view from the window. The azure blue of the sky contrasted with the white blossom on the tree just on the edge of the company’s land at the rear entrance. Beyond, a neat row of cottages caught the eye and drew the gaze of anyone who had time to stop and watch.

As I appreciated the view, a door of one of the cottages opened and a tall, broad man stepped out onto the path that led down a well-kempt front garden to the road. Yeah, I know that kempt means well cared for, so the well is redundant. I work in communications and I’ve a Desmond in English Lit and Environmental Science. That’s lower second class honours for those of you not in the know. Not bad for a lad from Saath London. Of course, four years at Canterbury, another four living in this small Sussex town, coupled with some conscious effort, have more or less knocked that accent out of me.

Less about me, back to another thing that was kempt and well put together. The object of my voyeuristic tendencies stepped through his gate and out onto the pavement then turned in my direction. A happy sigh escaped me as the early morning sun caught his wavy hair just right; fiery copper reflected back to me in reds and gold. His eyes were green, and flecked with amber. Not that I could see his irises from this distance—I could barely make out the strong features that made up his ruggedly handsome face. And the freckles that gave him an oddly incongruous boyish look were filled in from memory at this point. I sighed again, far too dramatically for my own liking.

Rather than concentrate on the parts of him that required my imagination, I studied the visual feast in front of me. Now he’d cleared the obstruction of his neighbour’s privet, I had an uninterrupted view, where I could drink my fill without the risk of getting caught.

Chinos—the russet pair today—encased long legs, and heavily muscled thighs bunched beneath the material with every determined stride that brought him a step closer. Finally, the man disappeared below my sight line. The photocopier whirled to a stop, spitting out the last few pages of my weekly comms report and a stack of sample leaflets for Miriam’s perusal. I had about five minutes to school my features and get back to my desk, or get caught tongue-tied. Again.

A flash of colour caught my eye as I turned away from the view and I spun back to the window expecting to see the swoop of ring-necked parakeets. The birds were becoming a more common sight in local gardens these days. Maybe the green bastards thought I was homesick and followed me from London.

Instead of the expected flap of wings, my gaze found the source of the flashes of colour: a washing line strung in the back garden of one of the cottages. Clothes hung from the line, fluttering in the gentle breeze of a pleasant June morning. Not just any clothes, though.

Nope, a whole line full of bright, skimpy, tight underwear. Underwear that I’d seen advertised in Attitude that very morning as I read on my bus journey to work. And by seen, I meant studied. Intently. Double-page spread. Three all but naked guys getting handsy with each other and appearing to love every minute of it. Hell, I’d even stuffed in my headphones, thanked any deity who wanted to listen that I was sitting in the back, and watched the ‘making of’ video. Those models were having fun, no doubt about it.

Get A Grip. Flamboyant, colourful, crotch-cupping, butt-caressing underpants. With a marketing campaign that focused on the gay man. Ask a straight guy about GAG and 95% wouldn’t know what you were talking about.

Not only that, but the garden the washing line was located belonged to—

“Morning, Shawn. Printing again?”

Now I was close enough to see the green of his eyes. The deep rumble that came from his broad chest caressed the vowel sound in my name and threatened to turn my legs to jelly.

Stupid! Answer him. All I could do was echo the greeting, anything else was beyond me, the sight of those pants hanging in a neat rainbow of colour seared on to my brain. “Morning, Tim.”

Tim faltered as though expecting there would be more forthcoming, but I had nothing. Nothing workplace appropriate, anyway. Asking your colleague to model his undies for you was probably frowned upon, even for a liberal employer like InScents, and Tim was still comparatively new and seemed kinda shy for a big guy. I wouldn’t say we were friends yet but I hoped we were getting there. So I kept my mouth shut.

The moment stretched on but it could have lasted no more than a second or two, then Tim carried on past, heading for his desk. I thought I’d detected a dusky flush of rose under his freckles but I was easily distracted and couldn’t quell the urge to watch the tight pull of Tim’s chinos as he walked away from me.

Not an unfamiliar feeling any time Tim walked in front of me.

But now I couldn’t stop myself from imaging his muscular arse cheeks enclosed in a pair of GAGs.

* * * * *

 

 

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Out today!! The second in the Village Love series. I read this when it was under construction and it really rocks!

Here’s the blurb:

Smudge really needs to get laid, if only to stop himself wondering about the softness of Raleigh’s curls and why he keeps running away.

After his tumultuous teenage years, Smudge has settled into his quiet life in the sleepy English village of Slopy Bottom. He’s his own boss with the time and space to indulge his artistic creativity. And he has friends. He’s happy. Satisfied. Lonely. And the pool of potential soulmates is almost non-existent. His friends, Rick and Mal, flush with their own happy romance, keep trying to set him up with the most incompatible men, and he’s never finding true love on Grindr. Hell, he’s not even going to manage a hook up based on the kinky messages he’s been getting recently. He’ll just have to slake his desire to find his own HEA in the pages of bosom-heaving romance novels.

Raleigh is the darling of Slopy Bottom’s blue rinse brigade: church organist, mobile librarian, and apparently wedded to his trademark cardigans. He seems to be the polar opposite of the artistic Smudge, whose brightly coloured mohawk and piercings should be a red flag to Raleigh. Yet he’s yearning for company too. It’s just that Raleigh has less expectation and definitely less courage to chase after it, for reasons that he keeps very close to his chest. Reasons that don’t stop him from being drawn irresistibly to Smudge.

Smudge is sure that the way Raleigh runs from him whenever he sees him is cruelly deliberate. A reflection on his bad boy looks and his disdain for Raleigh’s precious church. So why can’t he stop thinking about the softness of Raleigh’s curls and his delicate body? Then Raleigh offers an olive branch of sugar and caffeine, Smudge’s favourite combination, starting them on a road to an awkward truce. And when they are conned into working together on a community project at the local hospital, the proximity ignites a spark that can’t be ignored. But navigating the murky waters that could take their relationship beyond tentative friendship all depends on whether Raleigh can release his secret fears – and whether Smudge is the man to share and allay them.

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