Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Mourning Jack - The blurbage

If you stop by this blog now and then, you may have seen a recent post showing off the wonderful cover art for my 6th May release, 'Mourning Jack'.

I've just received the banner pack with the promotional bits and pieces so I thought I'd share the postcard with you because it has the blurb on it. :D

And the bookmark is also very nice indeed.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Tuesday Teaser - An unexpected arrival

Meh, while everyone here is getting all excited at the prospect of weedy, crepey pancakes for tea, I'm making a nice curry and posting another snippet from the WIP. I couldn't think of anything Shrove Tuesday related so no pancakes or Mardi Gras beads in this scene.


A sharp gust hurled a whirlwind of leaves across the track. The horse snorted and planted his feet. His ears shot forward and he lifted his head as a carriage rattled up the hill. The horses raced the gale, harnesses rattling. The driver was hunched miserably on his seat. He turned the carriage down the drive and slowed the animals. I nudged my horse forward and trotted after the vehicle, wondering who’d be foolish enough to pay a call on such a day.

The carriage eased to a stop in front of the steps. I reined in my horse and dismounted, holding on to the soaked, slippery leather while the driver climbed down from his perch and opened the door.

Something inside slipped sideways when Daniel stepped from the carriage. He grabbed a small bag and glanced up. We stared at each other for a long moment. The rain ceased to matter, the wind receded to a murmuring breeze. My fingers tightened on the reins.


Only the arrival of both the groom and Winters prevented me from letting my horse go while I ran toward him. Instead, I handed the reins to the groom and instructed Winters to take the coach driver around to the kitchen for a decent meal and something hot to drink. Only then did I walk toward Daniel, aware only of the crunch of my feet on the gravel and of Daniel standing there, watching me while he clutched his bag.

He looked at me with misery in his eyes, enough unhappiness to halt my progress. His shoulders slumped and he dropped the bag on the ground. “I’ve lost everything,” he whispered. “I have nothing left but you.”

Monday, February 20, 2012

Here it is! The countdown begins!

This delightful page is now on the Total E Bound web site under 'Coming Soon'.

I can't wait!

Orion Rising

Friday, February 17, 2012

Some news!

It's been a busy week for me in terms of news. Following on from receiving the glorious cover art for 'Mourning Jack', which is released on 6th May by Total E Bound, I can now add two more books to this year's releases . My contemporary m/m novella, 'Biscuits and Bunting' will be released on 28th May and, 'Lord of Endersley' a historical m/m and the first of a five book series, will be released on 27 August.

It's going to be quite a year!

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Mourning Jack - gorgeous cover art!

I went for a brisk walk in a cold wind this morning. I had every intention of returning, opening my word document and writing. I will as soon as I'm doing squeeing over this gorgeous cover art for my 6 May release, 'Mourning Jack'. It's a contemporary m/m romance set it Wiltshire and North Yorkshire.

Yet again, the delightful Emmy Ellis has produced the perfect cover and I'm so excited to be able to share it with everyone.

So, excuse me while I scarf down a celebratory sherbet lemon and admire the shiny artwork.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Teaser Tuesday - Definitely NSFW

So it's Tuesday and time to post a teaser. The challenge from Purgatory is to make it bloody or filthy. I don't do bloody very well, so this is a mucky little scene from the WIP, 'Darkness at Endersley'.


I had just enough time to take in the small, sunlit bedroom before we tumbled onto the bed. Daniel rolled on top of me, enveloping me in heat. His mouth devoured mine in a collision of desperate flesh. The room’s silence was broken by our staccato breaths and the rustle of our remaining clothes being cast aside.

Daniel propped himself up on his elbows and smiled down at me. He shifted his hips slowly against mine. When he spoke, his voice shook. “I don’t know where to start…what to do. I’ve wanted you for so long and now here you are.”

I answered his moves with some of my own, silencing him with a kiss.

He groaned against my lips and slid his hand down my abdomen until he found my swollen cock. “I might start with this.

His touch was nearly enough. Daniel slid off me and worked me with his hand, squeezing, stroking, teasing.

I faced him and took his cock in my hand, watching him shiver when I circled the gleaming tip with my forefinger. Daniel leaned close and pressed his forehead to mine. His breaths fell in sharp, hot gusts on my skin. I stroked him. He closed his eyes and moaned against my lips.

“Joshua…” Another sigh, long and shaky. His hand quickened along with mine, driving me closer to release. There would be time for more leisurely exploration later.

I pushed into his hand and returned to his lips, feeling them part beneath mine. He sucked my tongue and wound his free hand through my hair. Every move, every sigh drove away memories of furtive and mechanical grappling at the brothel. This was how it was meant to be, entwined in a sunlit room with only the soft whisper of bedclothes and the music of Daniel’s sighs and moans.

Heat rose at his touch. My fingers faltered, almost falling away when I thrust one last time. I hooked my arm around his neck and pulled him closer, trembling in the aftermath, while he shuddered and cried out before collapsing against me.

I stroked Daniel’s back and remembered to breathe once more while his seed dried on my skin. Beyond the open window, London life moved on in an endless rumble of wheels and machinery. In the small, white bedroom, the world stood still.

Daniel nestled closer, fitting neatly into the space between us. He trailed one finger across my chest and kissed my shoulder. “You were worth waiting for, Joshua Endersley.”

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

From the WIP

Don't mind me, I'm just occupying some blog space after writing all day.
This snippet is from the current work-in-progress.


I tucked the letter in my pocket and addressed the tissue wrapped rectangle, removing the covering carefully. The portrait, no bigger than a piece of foolscap, was mounted on a stout piece of card and signed. I looked at it for a long time, lost in the memories it stirred.

Daniel sat on a chair, holding the sketchbook to one side while he stared directly at the mirror with a naked unflinching gaze. The swift strokes of charcoal created a rendering so poised and lifelike I ached to touch him, willing it to life, wishing he was there. He’d left nothing hidden, including his cock, pale against a smudge of charcoal.

I set the portrait down and closed my eyes, ashamed of my body’s reaction to the portrait, afraid of how much I missed him.

*Sketch is 'Seated Male Nude (Michael)by David Warren

Monday, February 6, 2012

It's Monday...have a hottie

It's been a little while but it's another grey day here and I thought the blog could use a bit of loveliness.

This one is definitely one of my muses almost to the point of addiction.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Aidan Turner - there will never be a sexier vampire.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

A visit from an Angel

Good morning all.

Today I am pleased to let the delightful Angel Martinez visit my blog. She's offered up a really lovely little snippet for you all to read. I hope, like me, you'll find yourself wanting more after you read it.


Before I get to the shameless self-promo, I’d like to talk a little bit about the soap opera. Yes. I’ve had one for a few years now.

Way back in the dark ages of social media, Yahoo had tried some odd site that was supposed to rival FB and all that stuff. I don’t even recall what the thing was called, though some of you might. Thing was, it was a nice vehicle for posting stories and there was a batch of us who had been writing stories for fun over at Double Moon who ended up there posting more contemporary stuff. You’d post a chapter or a short, folks would comment. Kind of like Literotica but more intimate, like a critique group.

This was where I started to post chapters of Vic and Cody’s story for a bit of feedback. Folks there loved the story and encouraged me to spruce it up and send it out. But in reading one of my friend’s stories, I saw that she had sent flowers from Kemp’s Floral Creations, the shop in my story. “I didn’t know Kat and Vic lived in the same town,” I said. “I think we all have to get together.”

Hence the soap opera was born. Mic’s characters and mine intermingled for several years, mostly M/M, a bit of M/F, and lots and lots of erotic content in the stories, though, you know me, a lot of drama, too. It’s still out there, what happens after Aftermath, if you will, and a little bit before. You’d meet characters like Derelict Schiller and Mad Anthony Dupree. You’d see what happens to Jonathan and, of course, Vic and Cody. Forewarned is forearmed, though. There’s a lot of multiple partner and sharing going on. If that’s not your thing, leave things where they are at the end of Aftermath.

If you do want to visit Vic and Cody’s town and their odd collection of friends, come see us at Erotic Spice: The Ongoing Story Blog, .

Vic and Cody’s story fits in between chapters 10 and 11. And speaking of their story…


Victor and Cody have the American dream—a house, two cars, upwardly mobile income, and each other—but all is not well in paradise. Cody's na├»ve belief in other people's goodwill led to a recent assault from which he struggles to recover. Returning to his art, he seems to find his balance, only to be betrayed by a friend and brutally assaulted again.

Victor, wracked by guilt and shackled to a grueling, time-devouring career, must find a way to help Cody back from the darkness and to keep him safe from his self-destructive behavior. With the help of a common-sense therapist, some loyal friends, and Cody's own impetuous nature, their recovery and their relationship have a chance. If the criminals who attacked Cody will only leave him alone, that is.


Vic slid into a pair of sweats and wandered downstairs where earnest noises of metal on metal drifted out of Cody's studio. Victor chuckled and shook his head. When the muse took Cody, he had to go to it. In the middle of dinner, at three in the morning, right after lovemaking. Vic didn't mind. This was what Cody did. To love Cody was to love his manic ecstasies of creation.

Understanding Cody's art was a different matter. He sculpted in metal and "found objects."

"You mean junk?" The first time inside one of Cody's studios, Victor had scratched his head at the pile of oddments Cody pointed to as his materials.

Cody's smile held all the enthusiasm of a little boy with his first bike. He nodded vigorously. "Yes, sometimes junk. Junk is a terrific resource. But sometimes things you have around, or see in an antique shop or a dime store, or the grocery store. Sometimes a thing you've had around for years and suddenly you take it apart and it's something completely different."

Only five years ago, but it seemed another universe, shivering in the pervasive cold of Cody's first studio, dimly lit and damp, with the ever-present audience of spiders and cockroaches.

Victor started coffee and bagels, took his shower, shaved and dressed, then gathered mugs and plates to take to the present studio. It was clean and bright, built to Cody's specifications. He shoved the door open and watched, lost in admiration.
In cutoffs, work boots, and a heavy, fireproof apron, Cody hammered away at a glowing piece of iron, forcing it to curl and conform to his vision. The light from his furnace painted his pale skin orange and gold, dancing in his hair as if it too were living flame. A miniature Vulcan at his forge, caught in the throes of creative imperative.

When Cody stopped to thrust the iron into a bucket of cold water, Vic cleared his throat. "Can you stop for breakfast, Michelangelo?"

For a heartbeat, those blue eyes stared at him without recognition. Victor waited. Sometimes Cody took a moment to return from his art. "Hey, baby." He finally broke into a huge grin. "Thank you, so thoughtful. Could you set it down for me? You off?"
"Have to be in for nine, yeah." Victor nodded, putting the coffee and cream cheese and jelly bagel down on the table by the door, out of the line of fire. "Listen, sweetheart, I'll probably be late again—"

"Aw, Vic, it's Friday," Cody interrupted mournfully.

"I know, little man, I'm sorry. That presentation to the board is tomorrow. God only knows why they have a board meeting on the weekend. But I've got to have everything ready and half the departments don't even have their data to me yet."

Cody let out a slow breath. "All right. You'll call me when you're coming home?"
Resting one butt cheek on the table, Victor sipped his coffee to give himself a moment. "Cody... I don't want you to feel like you're trapped here. What you said last night, it really got to me. If you go out, would you do me two favors?"
"Anything for you, sugar daddy." Cody chuckled. "Don't you wanna come out, too? Give me a call on the cell and come meet me?"

"Not tonight. Sorry, love." Vic shook his head. "Don't think I'm feeling up to it. Try to come home at a decent hour, all right?"

"Define decent." Cody's grin turned wicked.

"I'm serious here, little man. Before one, one-thirty, if you can manage it. And don't, please, don't go out alone."

Cody rolled his eyes. "Okay, Mom. And I know, I know. No Jonathan."

"Just make me happy. Find someone who'll watch out for you a little. Friends make sure their friends get home safe." Vic advised softly, hoping the message would slide in without throwing off Cody's good mood.

It was such a relief to see him in the studio again. After that one awful night, he’d been sliding between depression and wild bouts of self-destructive behavior. Vic hoped this was the end of the dark time. No more coming home to Cody passed out in a ruin of beer bottles, or not coming home until dawn, or simply sitting on the sofa staring at the wall, or refusing to eat for days.

For a long anxious moment, Cody chewed on his bottom lip, dark shadows wavering in his eyes. "Maybe I'll call Kurt n' Wyatt." He nodded. "Haven't seen them in, oh, God, ages."

Satisfied, Victor stood and gathered up his jacket. "Good idea. I'll see you tonight, sweetheart."

"Hey!" Cody's angry yell stopped him in the doorway. "You forget something?"
Victor looked down at himself, wondering if he'd forgotten his pants or his shoes. Nope, all there. In confusion, his gaze went to Cody and the hurt in those eyes jarred his memory. "Oh, chrissakes... I'm sorry..."

He put the jacket down, went to Cody, and took his sweet face between his hands. Victor tilted Cody's head up slowly and bent with a soft growl to capture Cody's lips, so soft and firm, in a deep, exploring kiss. "Better?" he breathed against Cody's mouth.

Cody's eyes were closed, his expression one of beatific joy. "Oh, man... yeah..."
"Have a good day, little man. Don't forget your breakfast." Victor waved on his way out. Despite the aching feeling of an oncoming cold, he felt better than he had in weeks.


Angel Martinez lives part time in the hectic suburban sprawl of northern Delaware and full time inside her head. When not at her evil day job, and not writing, she’s most likely talking to her cats or enthusing over the latest bird to grace the backyard. Sometimes accused of having a wicked sense of humor, Angel is still surprised when people laugh.

Where’s Angel on the net?


Where’s Angel’s stuff?

At Amber Allure:
Silver Publishing:
Romance First:

Thank you for having us, Ms. Sue!