Sunday, January 29, 2012

A Sunday Snippet

I haven't signed up for 'Six Sentence Sunday' but I thought I'd post a tiny bit from the WIP.

It's a cold, misty day here so it's ideal for writing.


“Allow me.” Wyndham took the recalcitrant tie and placed it carefully beneath my collar, before tying the appropriate knot.

I let my fingers work it out. “That feels right. Thank you.” I looked at him, wondering why he hadn’t moved away, why he was silent while he looked at me.

Wyndham leaned forward, his finger tucked beneath my chin. His breath was warm on my lips, his hand gentle on my skin. He drew close and kissed me. This was no stolen, cheeky kiss. He sighed between my parted lips and curled his hand around my neck, fingers whispering on the collar he’d just straightened. I rested my hands on his shoulders and let myself be led. He left me dizzy and breathless.

Wyndham’s hand fell away. He took a step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“There’s no need to apologise.” The room was cold once more.

“There’s every need to apologise. I took a liberty I had no right to take.” Wyndham turned away and closed the sketchbook. “It might be best if you left now.”

His regret hung in the air. I wished that he’d turn around. Instead, Wyndham stared resolutely at the rain, arms wrapped around the sketchbook.

I took a deep breath. “I’d apologise but I’m not sure what I’d be apologising for. I bid you good day, sir.” I left the room with as much dignity as I could muster at short notice. Once I reached the gloom of the hall, I pressed my forehead and palms to the wall and wondered what I’d done wrong.

It was no surprise when Winters later informed me that Wyndham would be taking a light meal in his room that evening.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

A wee teaser

From 'Darkness at Endersley'.


Conversation returned with the meat course. The breeze moved through the parted curtains and a low, distant roll of thunder promised a stormy end to the day. We worked our way through the courses until all that was left was port and cigars in the sitting room. The fish course was placed before us. Trout, covered in a delicate creamy sauce, a favourite of mine. Mrs Washburn was clearly intent on ensuring I enjoyed every course. An appreciative silence accompanied the fish. The dining room windows were open to the evening breeze and the soft whisper of leaves. I stole a guilty glance at Wyndham and tried to ignore the tightness in the pit of my stomach, a tug of anticipation and futile longing. Eighteen months of self-imposed exile unravelled with every moment in his presence.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Time to write another one.

So, I decided to write a series.

Book One is done and I'm waiting to hear whether it's a 'go' or not. I've been wallowing in my usual submission limbo, opening the file of the next book every day and staring at two pages I've written when I'm not chasing shiny things on the internet.
Today, I've decided to pull my finger out and gerronwithit.

Since I've posted this intention on this blog, that means I have to finish it. So, if you see me whining on Facebook or Twitter that I have writer's block, feel free to kick me in the arse.

This one, tentatively titled 'Darkness at Endersley', starts in London, but is mainly set at Endersley House, a fictional place high up on the Wiltshire Downs. As a (dubious) treat, here's the opening paragraph in all it's rough draft glory.


I slipped out of the brothel and onto the rain-soaked pavement. The storm hadn’t abated. Lightning flickered across a sky that had an ominous red glow toward the direction of the docks. I just wanted to get home. An empty house was better than nothing, was better than the dark, fetid hell of Whitechapel. I could crawl into bed and sleep away my shame.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Lisa Worrall has a shiny new release!

Today's a rare departure for me. The lovely Lisa Worrall has a new release - 'Thirst' and I'm happy to be able to post a very tantalizing snippet here. Make sure you check it out!


Detective Max Bowman is hunting a serial killer terrorizing the city, who leaves victims drained of blood. No fingerprints, no clues, no ideas. Only a mysterious inscription carved into each body.

Frustrated with the lack of progress, Max takes a break in a local pub. Attacked by the attractive man buying him drinks, he is left for dead in the alley behind the bar.

Waking up in Carter Gray's bed was the last thing he expected. Who was this mysterious man? What was his dark secret? Why does he make Max tremble with anticipation every time their eyes meet?

It becomes apparent that Carter is the only one with the 'expertise' to help him find the killer. But is his attraction to Carter clouding his judgment and is he refusing to acknowledge that the killer may well be Carter himself?


Pain, lots of pain. Max tried to force his eyes open, but only one would comply; the other already swollen shut from the impact of a closed fist. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying in the alley behind the bar. He dimly remembered a tall blond man with piercing blue eyes who introduced himself as Tony, or it might have been Tommy, buying him a beer, followed by way too many shots, he'd stopped counting after the fourth; remembered laughing and joking with him, flirting and being flirted with in return. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing that was until the man suggested they go somewhere quieter.
Instead of heading out into the brightly lit street, Max had found himself being jostled from both sides into the alley behind the bar. The blond held onto him on his left and from nowhere a dark haired man grabbed his right arm. Too late Max realized that everything was out of place, just as the blond man's fist connected with his face and his knee with Max's groin.
The two of them punched and kicked him, and all he could do was curl in on himself on the ground and hope he could minimize the damage. He didn't want to think too much about the sharp snap he heard when a hard boot connected with his ribs, nor the meaty sounds of flesh upon flesh. Max was assaulted by a wave of dizziness and he felt darkness reach out to engulf him in its warm embrace, but he mentally shook his head and stubbornly refused to let it claim him. He felt hands grabbing at his keys and his wallet and then more pain as a boot connected with the muscle in the left cheek of his ass. His head was pulled back by a vicious hand twisting in his chestnut-colored hair, his glassy brown gaze locking onto piercing blue as the word "Fag" was spat at him and his head was slammed back down on the dirt.
Max heard their retreating footsteps and he tried to lift his head, the pain in his side causing a cry to fall from his lips at the movement. He coughed and cringed as he saw dark splatters of blood hit the ground. Wiping the back of a shaky hand across his lips, he stared at the stain of red on his skin. He stumbled to his knees, trying to use the wall beside him to pull himself up. His legs buckled, and he crashed back to the ground, a deep groan wrenched from him as he fell. Suddenly, he felt two strong arms, one around his shoulders and one under his knees, lifting him as if he weighed no more than a small child. His head lolled to the side, coming to rest on a firm shoulder and he had a glimpse of jade green eyes looking down into his as the dark claimed him once more.
* * * *
Carter pulled open the door of his black 1968 Ford Mustang and eased his ward carefully into shotgun, slowly reclining the seat to make the position more comfortable. Taking off his heavy woolen coat, he rolled it and slipped it behind the man's head to prop up the semi-conscious man. He gazed down at the battered face he had been watching all night from his dark corner of the bar, aware how beautiful it was underneath the swelling and bruising. The man's name was Max that much he knew, because he had heard him introduce himself to his assailant. He frowned, furious with himself that he had realized too late the blond twink and his accomplice's plans for the young man. If he hadn't been distracted, if he hadn't been so thirsty…
Carter slid behind the wheel, his green eyes glittering in the muted glow from the dome light as he closed the door behind him. A small smile lifted his lips as he headed his car toward home. The two men who had robbed and beaten Max and left him for dead had already paid for what they'd done. Glancing into his rear-view mirror, he parted his lips and ran his tongue down his elongated incisors.
They wouldn't be hurting anyone ever again, and he wasn't thirsty anymore.

If you want to read more, you can buy Thirst here

All about Lisa: I was born in Romford, Essex, but am now living in Leigh on Sea, ten minutes away from the seaside town of Southend on Sea, which boasts the longest pier in the world. My claim to fame! I am having a total ball creating stories for the characters clamoring in my head for attention. And I am totally amazed by the support they've received and hope to give them voice for as long as people want to hear what they have to say.

On a personal note, I am the single mother of two children, aged eight and six, which makes for some interesting conversations, which sometimes end up in my stories! As if that wasn't enough to make me prematurely gray, we also have acquired a puppy called Winnie, named after my biggest vice... the Winchester brothers in Supernatural.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Beat the Winter Blues Blog Tour

So, here we's the wrong side of Christmas, the last of the chocolates, cookies, turkey, etc. have gone and all we're left with are those boring biscuits from the selection tin and a bit of mouldy stilton that's stinking up the fridge. What better time for a grand tour comprising 16 authors, a host of fun and interesting blogs and a grand prize at the end of it all.

It's going to be a fun ride, so make sure you tag along and see what we're doing to beat the winter blues.

January-April 2012
Sixteen authors will do their best to make your winter brighter in January, February, March, and April. (Unless you’re south of the equator, and then we’ll just be jealous of your summer.) Every Wednesday will be a new stop on the tour (see schedule below). Be sure to leave a comment at each stop for up to sixteen chances at the grand prize: a $200 USD gift certificate to the e-retailer of your choice. Also keep an eye out for links to individual authors’ sites on their release dates for a chance to win some free books.
January 11: How We Beat the Winter Blues (hosted by Coffee & Porn in the Morning)
January 18: Favorite Wintertime Activities (hosted by Josephine Myles)
January 25: Join us for a January getaway (hosted by Andrew Grey)
February 1: Winter in My Backyard (hosted by Lou Harper)
February 8: “If I could get away right now, I’d go to…” (hosted by Ellis Carrington)
February 15: Valentine’s Day (hosted by J.L. Merrow)
February 22: Authors by the Fireside (hosted by Kate McMurray)
February 29: Join us for a February getaway (hosted by Z.A. Maxfield)
March 7: Things to Do in a Blizzard (hosted by S.A. Meade)
March 14: St. Patrick’s Day (hosted by Clare London)
March 21: Spring Break (hosted by Blaine Arden)
March 28: Join us for a March Getaway (hosted by Tales from the Writing Cave)
April 4: Favorite Winter Movies (hosted by Stumbling Over Chaos)
April 11: Signs of Spring (hosted by J.P. Barnaby)
April 18: Join us for an April Getaway (hosted by Marie Sexton)
April 25: Farewell (hosted by Joyfully Jay)
April 30: Grand Prize Announcement (hosted by Heidi Cullinan)

Friday, January 13, 2012

Today I'm...

On Lisa Worrall's blog!

Please stop by and say 'hello'!

Friday, January 6, 2012

An Interview!

Happy New Year to everyone!

The year is off to a pretty good start in that m/m author Sue Brown has interviewed me for her blog today. If you get a chance, stop in and check it out. I had great fun answering the questions and, as a bonus, there's a nice little excerpt from Stolen Summer with both food and snoggage. Just click on the link below.

Sue Brown's Stories