Friday, 12 January 2018

Fiction Friday

First post of 2018, and first off can I say Happy New Year to anyone that is still out there reading this blog. At some point before the end of the month I plan to do a what's coming up this year style post, where I'll let you know of my writing plans but for now let's take a look at what I've been reading.


The Case of the Arms Dealers (Kanaan & Tilney, #1) by Jenna Rose & Katey Hawthorne - First off this is a LooseId title. As you probably know LooseId is closing its doors in May 2018, what will happen to those books will be down to the individual authors. I'm hoping this writing partnership republishes these and continue to write more stories. As for this book, excellent writing and world-building combined with two engaging MCs (I adored Lowell) make this a mystery well worth reading. I've already bought the sequel.

The Fortune Hunter by Bonnie Dee - Self-published. Well written early 20th century historical set between the wars. Enemies to lovers, broken characters, morally questionable characters with a heart of gold. All of my favourite tropes. This is a gorgeous book, with both humour and heart rending moments. There were times when I wondered how the author would pull off a HEA for these two, but she gives us a perfect one.

Bank Robber's Baby by Rachel Kane - Self published. Available in KU. This is book #4 in The Boys of Oceanside series (but can be read as a standalone) and it is by far my favourite of the bunch. I enjoyed the first three, but I absolutely adored this book. Remember what I said about morally ambiguous characters with a heart of gold being one of my favourite tropes, oh yes, that trope was made for Travis. I think he's my favourite inhabitant of Oceanside ever.

In Case of Emergency by Keira Andrews - Self published. Available in KU. It's a Christmas story, but it's only January and it I want to rec you a seasonal story I will. This is a sweet Christmas story of a good deed that turns into something more, a damaged man who's been hiding his pain, and in passing it touches on societal expectations with regard to sex, gender, and sexuality. There's also a douchey almost boyfriend, snow, a Christmas tree, and Star Wars. Lovely slow burn romance. 

Stolen Magic (World Breaker Beginnings #2) by N.R. Hairston - Self published. I picked this up in one of those Instafreebie giveaways over Christmas, along with about 50 other books. These books normally linger on my laptop forever before I decide to read them but for some reason (probably my new empty Kindle) I opened this one straight away, without consulting the blurb, series number or cover. If I'd done any of those things I probably wouldn't have read it at all. But this has an interesting idea, the concept that people in this world have powers and that Chaz's power is actually stealing power from other people to use their abilities. However, in the moments when they weren't using their powers this read like a regular romance. As I understand it Clink, the non-POV MC, had previously found his HEA(!?) in another book. I have to agree with some of the other reviewers. Had I read that book first, I wouldn't have been happy going into this one, and I doubt I would have enjoyed it as much. That said, this book can easily be read as a standalone. 

Why I Hate Men: The A to Z misadventures of gay dating by Joe Phillips - Self published. Available in KU. Done in the format of a children's ABC book, this amusing volume contains all the charm you get in Joe's Joeboy characters but in a black and white line drawing style. I'm contemplating picking this up in paperback. 





Friday, 29 December 2017

Fiction Friday - December Reads

Normally I'd manage about 20 books in December, Christmas stories are normally by nature quite short and low angst, which makes them easy to read. Unfortunately (from a reading point of view), I spent a lot of the month finishing Calamine & Christmas Cake, and although I'm proud of the work I put into that story to get it out by the 20th, it did have an impact on my reading time. Then, my Kindle died and I had to wait almost until Christmas Day to get a new one. I did finally get around to reading a few Christmas stories though and I've been happy with each and every one.

36564410Christmas Can Kiss My Dickens by Hunter Frost - A contemporary take on the Christmas classic. Cute, with the requisite amount of angst to do that story justice without being over the top for a Christmas romance.

Desperately Seeking Santa by Eli Easton -  I love a 'gentle giant' story and this really has the perfect one. Adorable story. (In Kindle Unlimited.)

The Peppermint Schnapps Predicament by Clare London - Fun, fun, fun. I absolutely adore Frankie. Ms London writes contemporary British stories that often make me giggle out loud, or at least grin inanely at my Kindle, this is no exception.

The Power of Peppermint by L.D. Blakeley - A quick, cute read. Also free in one of those 'a million free books to clog up your e-reader' giveaways. I'm quite proud that I actually read one of them :D (In Kindle Unlimited.)

Yours For The Holiday by D.J. Jamison - A super cute frenemies to lovers story that will make you melt. Adorable. (In Kindle Unlimited.)

Secret Santa by Jay Northcote - Another Brit boys read. This one stars a reluctant Santa, and a dad of a 4 year-old who doesn't have time to date. The guys meet on Grindr and seem to hit it off, but how much do you reveal about yourself after only a couple of dates? This is a problem they both struggle with, and is the point that causes the main conflict in the book. The kid is well-written and realistic, thank God, and Theo's struggle with being a single father rings true. The slightly grumpy Luke was probably my favourite though. Cute, well-written with just a smidgen of low level angst. (In Kindle Unlimited.)

Snow Angels with Bear (Love off Leash #4) by Bonnie Dee - First off I just want to say that this isn't really a Christmas story (the climax is set around Christmas) and so this can be read at any time of the year. If an older MC appeals to you, Eric is in his forties and quite set in his ways, and I love the fact that he breaks through his isolation and routines to pursue August. This book had great (and not perfect) MCs, some light angst to squeeze a few tears out of the reader, and two adorable dogs. Recommended. And I plan to read the rest in the series.

I'm posting this with a couple of days to go, but since I'm currently reading a paranormal mystery and I've two ARCs lined up to read it seems unlikely I'll get back to anymore Christmas stories this year.

Monday, 25 December 2017

End of Year Sale


Smashwords are having an end of year sale from today until the 1st January 2018.

Most of my self-published books are 25% off during the sale. 


You can find a list of all my self-published titles here.




Sunday, 24 December 2017

Rainbow Snippet makes a welcome return for the end of the year

I'm hoping to stay on top of these in the coming year, but I'm going to end the year as I hope to start the next.



Rainbow Snippets is a Facebook Group that invites authors to post 6 sentences of their work each weekend. It can be from anything you like, your current WIP, a recent release, the golden oldie that even you had forgotten you had written, or just a scrap of an idea (as long as it has 6 coherent sentences). Nothing of your own work worth mentioning? How about a 6 sentence review of your favourite LGBTQ+ story.

I'm going to kick off these final snippets of the year with a few lines from my new Christmas novella, Calamine & Christmas Cake.

As an irritant, a measles rash turned out to be far more potent than a philandering non-boyfriend. The prickliness of hot itchy skin drove me out of the bed and into the bathroom about ten minutes after the call with Xander. I didn’t have time for self-pity after that, not when trying to calamine my arse and the backs of my legs had involved twisting like a pretzel. It’d taken all of my concentration to stay upright. Then I’d laughed myself silly at the sight of my dick covered in pink splotches and by the time I’d wiped the tears from my eyes my frustration and self-loathing had ebbed away. Hard to stay pissed when the reflection in the bathroom mirror looked like Mr Blobby.



Buy Links

Kobo // Payhip // B&N // Smashwords
Universal Amazon link: myBook.to/christmascake_LF

Add it to your Goodreads bookshelf here.



Saturday, 23 December 2017

Rainbow Advent Calendar - Day 23



Day 23 and I think I'm one of the last to contribute. I hope you've had an enjoyable reading experience with some fun and interesting ficlets from our many authors. If this is the first time you've heard of the Rainbow Advent Calendar, then the masterlist is here. And you can join the Facebook group here (which is the easiest place to show some love and engage with the authors).

Many thanks to Alex Jane for arranging the event.

This ficlet features Rick and Mal from Resistance. And when I get a free minute I will be making this in a downloadable version.

Dark Nights and Inner Light


“Do I need to be concerned, Dholna?”

“What?” Rick’s long, confident strides faltered and he spun around, nearly taking Mal out with the axe slung casually over his shoulder. His boyfriend had hefted the weighty tool with barely a qualm, and certainly without a word. He’d just expected Mal to follow along behind with no clue as to where they were going.

And this was his point. Or was it? He was fast losing his train of thought, what with the way Rick’s biceps were straining against the flannel shirt he wore. And what was with that, no coat, not even a jumper. In mid-December.

Oh well, if he was going to die he could think of worse ways to go than watching the flex of those bulging muscles wielding an axe.

“Mal?” Rick sounded concerned. He dropped his gaze down to the ground, and then over at Mal’s suede trainers. “Did you want to change your shoes, or something?” Mal glanced at Rick’s sturdy boots and the sodden mulch that the ground became once the past the tree line into the forest. “Be quick if you do. I want to get this done before the light fades completely.”

They’d been home all day—a rare full day spent together because of Mal’s shifts—so if the light was that important, why had Rick waited until now to go out.

Mal looked at his trainers, they were slightly scuffed at the toes but nothing too bad, they still had plenty of life left in them, even if he didn’t. “Not like I’ll be needing them soon,” he muttered.

“Eh?” Rick frowned, but Mal could tell he was restless, eager to get on. You got to know these things when you’d been living together for six months. “What’s the matter, hun?”

“It’s almost twilight and you’re leading me into the forest with your trusty chopper. You won’t tell me where we’re going.” Mal shook the empty sack that he held in his left hand. A sturdy rope was looped over his shoulders. “This sack has got to be six-foot long. Do you plan to carry me home in it?” His voice rose in consternation, even though he tried to keep it level. “I love you. If it’s the disparaging remarks I made about your attempt at mince pies—”

“Attempt!” Rick sounded affronted all over again.

Don’t piss off the man with the massive chopper. Mal eyed the axe warily. “Sorry. If I’ve done something wrong, I’d much rather we talk about it than you chase me around the forest with an axe.”

Rick threw back his head and laughed. Did it have a slightly maniacal edge? No, Rick reminded Mal of the huntsman in that film they’d watched the other night. Or maybe a character from a fairy tale—not the Grimm versions, but like one from the Christmas play the kids had put on at the village hall last week.

“I told you not to go to that lecture on forensic science. It’s not like reading your murder mysteries. That shit is real.” Obviously satisfied Mal was simply being an idiot, Rick started walking deeper into the forest.

Mal had to agree, Rick went out of his way to save ducklings from a drain, and he openly admitted what a bad cook he was, although he was trying, even if Mal still cooked most of their meals. Rick wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Motive is not important. Nobody knows what could drive someone to kill.

But Mal did know Rick. He fell into step behind his—still chuckling—boyfriend. “I had to go. How often do you get to see a lecture on forensic science by an actual working Federal Forensic Investigator in Hillchester?”

And Geoff Samson had been a revelation; interesting, funny, and knowledgeable. That confidence had been a turn on, as had the Wolverine-style sideburns. Maybe he could convince Rick to try and grow some, but Rick’s fair hair made his beard hard enough to see until it grew in thickly, by which time Rick’d had enough and was ready to return to being clean shaven.

Geoff had taken the time to talk to the audience afterwards over tea and coffee, despite most of the audience being made up of authors wanting to discuss plot points and gory modes of death.

Rick had been working, so Mal had gone with Raleigh and Smudge. He’d thought the two of them would have apoplexy when Geoff had introduced them to his husband, the romance writer. Who knew the pair of them read that stuff? Although having listened to the author’s passionate speech on the subject of romance, Mal could possibly be tempted away from his police procedurals and cosy mysteries, at least for the occasional read.

“So where are we going?” Mal asked, sliding in next to Rick. On the side where he wasn’t carrying the axe, naturally.

“Now that you don’t think I’m going to hack you into little pieces over a disagreement about festive pastries? Has that been bothering you? I admit they were shit and I was honestly more pissed at myself for fucking them up than your comments. I just need to resign myself to the fact that I can’t cook and let you bear the brunt of that revelation.”

“You’re a good chopper,” Mal glanced at the axe, “whatever size your tool.”

“Yeah, we both know yours is bigger. But I make a mean breakfast, even without bacon.”

“You do.” Mal slipped his hand in Rick’s. “Why aren’t you cold? Is it much further?”

The pathway came to a junction, left or right the only options, and Mal didn’t know which way Rick would chose. On their walks and cycle rides they normally veered away on a different path at the last fork they’d passed. Mal hadn’t been down this path before. Several feet through the trees Mal could make out a mesh fence.

“This way.” Rick tugged on Mal’s hand, stepped off the path and into the trees.

They followed the wire fencing for a couple of minutes, ankle deep in fallen mouldy leaves. Mal cursed himself for not taking the chance to change his shoes when Rick had given him the option.
“In here.” Rick let Mal’s hand drop and ducked down.

“Where?” But Rick was already scrabbling through a large hole in the wire fencing. “What are we doing? Is this breaking and entering? Am I going to be arrested?”

“Not if you stay on that side of the fence you won’t.” Rick chuckled. He bent to drag his axe through the hole and straightened. “You can stay here if you’re worried.”

“Worried?!” Mal’s voice shot up an octave. “Should I be worried? What are you planning to do?”

“I’m losing the light. I’ll argue the toss with you later but right now I need to get to the grove. Or Nigel will be turning up in the dark.”

Nigel, their farmer neighbour, was somehow involved in all this skulduggery. Mal had met him several times over the last few months and he would have sworn he was as straight as they come; rigid, stoic, his only concern the animals under his care and the quality of the produce with his farm’s name on it. Had he stumbled into some sort of cult?

“Come on, make your mind up. Happen you’ll get lost on this side without a guide. Christmas will be over the way you’re dallying.”

They couldn’t argue about anything later if Mal didn’t know the extent of what was going on. He scrambled through the gap and stood next to Rick. “Come on then. If we’re breaking the law, let’s do it together.”

Rick led the way through the trees. There was no path to speak of, although a way had been cleared by foot traffic of some sort, but it was a treacherous thing with fallen branches and rabbit holes. Mal would have been lost in an instant on his own, or broken an ankle.

He was concentrating so hard on keeping his footing that he didn’t notice the change in the tree canopy until darkness made moving forward even more difficult. He glanced around, the bark on the trees rougher than before and the sudden leaf covering confirmed they were heading into a batch of evergreens.

“We’re here.” Rick stepped through a line of trees and disappeared.

Mal followed. Rick stood in the centre of a clearing. The moon flooded the area even though the sun hadn’t quite set, casting a strange light. Mal turned slowly, taking in his surroundings. The axe made sense now. He was staring at a dense stand of Christmas trees.

“Pick one.” Rick gestured to the trees.

“We’re stealing a Christmas tree?”

“Stealing is quite a harsh term. No one lives here anymore. The trees need thinning out or the whole lot of them will die out.”

“So you help yourself to one.”

“Originally someone would come from the estate to share the trees around the village but it seemed to have been forgotten over time. My dad used to do it with Nigel’s dad, they’d bring us to help carry the trees back to the gate and we’d load them on the tractor and distribute them around the village. I don’t have time for that, and loads of people have fake trees now, so I only clear four trees.”

“One for you and Nigel. Where do the other two go?”

“You’ve seen them both. One’s in the coffee shop. And the other is on the village green.”

“The village tree? We went to the lighting up ceremony of a stolen tree. Does everyone know?” Surely the village Christmas committee weren’t aware of this.

“Where do you think it came from?”

“The Christmas tree farm that appeared just off the bypass on the last week of November.”

Rick laughed. “Those trees are crap. These trees were planted for the village. You’ll have to ask Raleigh the details of the story. But they were planted at some time in the Victorian era, and every year the largest tree was felled by the gardener of the big house and taken by cart down to the village green where the Lord at the time would present it to the villagers. He’d bring roasted meats, and toffee apples for the kids, and mulled cider and he’d help the villagers decorate the tree. That became the basis for the lighting up ceremony.”

“I wondered about the toffee apples,” Mal said. “So the trees belong to the village. And you’re a villager.”

“And you are too, aren’t you?”

“I hope so.” Mal meant that. He really loved living in Slopy Bottom. “Do you still pick the largest tree?” Mal frowned. “When did you come and get that tree?”

Rick wandered to a stump just at the edge of the clearing. The wood looked freshly chopped. “I do. The biggest I can easily get to anyway. You were at work. Smudge, Adam, Trevor, and a couple of the other lads from the cricket team came to help me.”

“Trevor? But he’s police.”

“They belong to the village,” Rick said softly but insistent. “Now would you pick our tree.”

Rick wandered off into the trees. Mal watched for a moment, the way his boyfriend laid a careful hand on the bark of nearest tree, paused, nodded and then moved on. He let himself be lulled by the tempo of Rick’s movements, until he lost sight of Rick completely.

The dull rhythmic thud that followed reminded Mal that Rick had given him a job to do. An important job. This tree would stand in their lounge, would hold the carefully wrapped decorations that Rick had carried down from the loft. Their first Christmas together. The first of many. What made a good tree? Mal reached out and placed a hand on the nearest trunk. The bark scuffed his palm, but apart from that he could feel nothing. What had Rick been doing?

He moved on to the next tree. It looked promising, the branches a wide sweep of dense needles, but still with enough spread to get his hand to the trunk. Perfect for showing off the decorations. The bark beneath his palm trembled as though the tree was alive.

 I’m a tree whisperer.

The trunk shook, something skittered over Mal’s hand, and a dark shape pounced out of the branches and scampered off across the clearing. Mal squealed, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Everything okay?” Rick hurried through the trees. “You screamed.”

“I didn’t scream. I yelped.”

“Squealed.” Rick grinned, his worry apparently dissipating as he realised Mal was unharmed.

“A manly squeal.” Mal protested.

“Oh, definitely. Not rodent like at all, my city mouse.” Sweat beaded on Rick’s brow and caught like diamonds in the golden hairs that were scattered throughout his beard.

“You haven’t called me that in a while.”

“You’ve not reacted that badly to anything countrified for months.” Rick brushed the wayward fringe back from Mal’s face. He smelt of sweat and the forest, a woodsy, musky scent that Mal would gladly bottle and take with him everywhere. “What spooked you?”

“I found our tree.” Mal gestured to the conifer in question. Rick glanced over and nodded approvingly. “But I was feeling the trunk like you do and something ran over my hand, then leapt out at me. Frightened me half to death.”

“Squirrel.” Rick tugged Mal into a hug, slipped his hand, which had been lingering in Mal’s hair, into the thick waves and massaged his scalp. “Nothing to be scared of.”

“Not scared.”

“Your heart’s going wild.”

“That’d be my hot lumberjack boyfriend, pressing his sweaty body against me.”

Rick hummed in agreement and hugged him tighter.

“We have loads of ninja squirrels in London. Wasn’t a squirrel,” Mal said after letting the caress carry on a few moments longer. “Too small. Wrong colour.”

Rick’s hand stilled from stroking Mal’s hair, then he eased back. His eyes shone with excitement. “Fluffy tail? Rusty colour? Tufty ears?”

“Maaaybeee,” Mal stretched out the word, not wanting to commit to what Rick obviously wanted to hear. “It’s getting dark and that critter was fast.”

“But it could’ve been a red squirrel?”

“I guess.”

Rick let go of him, stepped away, and peered at the tree in question—their perfect tree. “This one? Shame, it’s a nice tree, would look great in the parlour, but we can’t take it. Not if it’s a red squirrel nesting area, or even a run through. I’ll come back tomorrow. Set up some cameras.”

“Cameras?” Mal asked because he knew it’d be expected of him, but he couldn’t shake his disappointment. They couldn’t have their tree, the one he’d picked out himself.

“I’ll need proof if I want to get the preservation society out here. Hey,” Rick stepped back into Mal, wrapped both arms around his waist, “we’ll pick out another tree. And while it might not be as perfect as the one you chose, we’ll have picked it out together.”

“Together. And that sounds like a perfect symbol for our first Christmas of many. A new tradition.” Mal agreed, settling their hips together. He rocked into Rick, relished the hitch in Rick’s breathing the move elicited. After all, they were already breaking and entering, why not add something raunchier to the list of charges. He reeled Rick in for a filthy kiss, worked a hand up under his flannel shirt, and long-sleeve Tee, resting his palm on the downy dip at the small of Rick’s back, and savouring the heat he found there.

“Jesus Christ! Do you two need to shag every time you’re alone? Where’s my tree?”

* * * * *

“It’s gorgeous.” Mal slipped his arms around Rick’s waist and, resting his chin on Rick’s shoulder, contemplated their tree. The branches weren’t as equally spaced as on the first tree he’d found and the top listed slightly to the left, but covered in Rick’s family collection of ancient and modern glass decorations, and with the light from the multi-coloured fairy lights twinkling off the myriad of reflective surfaces, all the tree’s tiny imperfections disappeared.

“Worth breaking the law for?”

“You are.”

Rick laughed and craned his head back, pressing a kiss to Mal’s neck when he found skin. “How far did you intend to take things? If Nigel hadn’t turned up for his tree?”

“All the way, Dholna.” He turned to capture Rick’s lips, keeping things chaste for the moment. “That’s not the first time Nigel’s caught us out. I’m beginning to think he likes watching.”

“He’s—” Rick cut himself off. “No. I was about to say he’s not gay, but I’ve made that assumption incorrectly once or twice already. He must be lonely, though. He dated Martha Tilsbury back when I was fifteen, but I don’t recall anyone since. Maybe we could ask him over on Boxing Day, once he’s finished with the cows.”

“Sounds like a plan, one more won’t make a difference since Smudge and Raleigh are coming. But for now,” Mal nuzzled Rick’s neck, “can we finish what I started before Nigel interrupted?”

“Hmm. Oh, no!” Rick pulled away and hurried over to the sideboard. He opened a drawer and shifted a few papers.

Then he returned to Mal with sheepish expression, and held out a small parcel wrapped in tissue paper. “I hope this is okay. Not disrespectful or anything. But your religion is important to you and I wanted it to be a part of our Christmas.”

Curious after that little speech, Mal carefully peeled back the wrapping, the metallic green surface catching the light. Nestled in the tissue paper was a disc, carefully cut to show a relief of the crescent moon and a star.

“Inner and outer light,” Mal muttered, the words hard to force out past the lump in his throat.

“Is it alright?” Rick asked. “I got the symbolism right, didn’t I? Love and strength?”

Mal nodded. The threat of tears stopped him from speaking.

“That’s what you are to me.” Rick stepped up, slipped one arm around Mal’s waist. With his free hand, he reached up and swiped at Mal’s cheek. Dampness smeared across his face. “Your love gives me the strength to be myself. Now, let’s hang this on the tree, then you can take me out into the garden and finish what you started in the forest.”

Allah be praised, he loved this man.


End

Wednesday, 20 December 2017

New Release - Calamine & Christmas Cake

It was a mad rush getting this out in time so there's been no cover reveal or teasers. Sorry about that.

Anyway here's my Christmas story for 2017.

Calamine & Christmas Cake

There could be worse places to be quarantined over Christmas, especially when your waiter might just be an angel in disguise.

A romantic getaway at an all-inclusive boutique hotel over Christmas seems the perfect way for Glenn Trevor to celebrate the festive period with his boyfriend.

But he could have done without waking up on the first morning delirious and covered in spots. Abandoned by his boyfriend, Glenn’s only saving grace comes in the dynamic form of Bastian, the waiter assigned to attend his every whim, and who might just be an angel in disguise.

Bastian, has only two rules: always make the guests feel as comfortable as possible—not a problem with his innate nurturing disposition—and never ever get involved with a guest. But the quarantined guy in 210 needs someone to take care of him, and Bastian’s more than up for the challenge of making Glenn Trevor’s stay the best ever, even if he has to run himself ragged to do it.

If Bastian can learn to accept the same nurturing care he hands out so readily, and Glenn can get over the farce of his previous relationship, between them maybe they can make it the Christmas of Glenn's dreams.


Buy Links

Kobo // Payhip // B&N // Smashwords
Universal Amazon link: myBook.to/christmascake_LF

Add it to your Goodreads bookshelf here.