Sunday, September 14, 2014

Smut for Sommer_My Sunday Snog

My fellow erotic romance author Victoria Blisse has been a very busy woman. Apart from writing scorching romances, promoting her fellow authors and bringing smut to a wider audience, she's also taken the time to organise today's very special event. Sommer Marsden is an incredibly talented and prolific author. Not only that, she's a remarkably strong and kind woman. She and her family are currently having to deal with her husband's fight with pancreatic cancer. Because they live in the US, they don't have the luxury of free healthcare. Every treatment, every scan, every drug, every piece of gauze or Q-tip costs something. Health insurance doesn't cover everything and, sometimes, doesn't pay at all. If I lived in Sommer's neck of the woods, I'd be bringing casseroles round, leaving bottles of wine on her doorstep, maybe even mowing the lawn. But I am sitting uselessly on the wrong side of the Atlantic and can offer little more than virtual hugs and words. So, when Victoria organised today's event, I was glad to be able to do something. Along with 52 other authors, I'm posting a snog scene from one of my books.

Please read my snog, click on this link . You'll find 52 other snogs here by some fabulous authors, as well as a Paypal button. If you can, please donate. It doesn't have to be much at all because, in the end, every penny helps.

If you'd like to leave a comment below, you'll be entered into a free draw to win an e-book of your choice from my back catalogue. :)

Thank you so much for stopping by and thank you for your help.


My snog is from my gay historical romance Tournament of Shadows.

“Will you walk with me?” he asked.
I managed a nod and fell into step beside him as he pushed through the crowds.
After a few moments, we found ourselves on a quiet street. Yakolev glanced over his shoulder, then steered me into a narrow, shadowed passageway.
“Hush. Don’t worry, I’m not going to murder you.” He backed me to the wall. “I just want to sample the wares before I make my final decision.
Before I could speak, he curled his fingers into my hair and pressed his lips to mine, devouring me with a hungry kiss.
I could do nothing but respond, winding my arms around his waist and pulling him closer. His arousal was evident, matching mine. Never before had I responded so readily to a man’s touch. Never had I been so desperate for it.
A rooster’s late call broke us apart. Yakolev stepped back, chest rising and falling like bellows. He reached out and brushed the hair from my forehead with a tender hand, then grinned.
My lips felt bruised and swollen. “Well?”
“You have my word. When I see the Emir tomorrow, I will suggest that to save him the burden of having two Englishmen and the danger that their countrymen could send an army to free them, I will take them and place them in a Russian gaol because the British would never attack us. It’s the best I could come up with. Of course, if he accedes to the request, I will deliver them to you at a pre-arranged meeting point, far away from here. Will that suit?”
I wanted him to kiss me. “Yes. It’s a very reasonable plan.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He brushed his lips over mine. “Assuming he doesn’t throw me in the dungeon, meet me at the tea house tomorrow night, so I can collect my payment.”
I was grateful that the robe hid my obvious desire. “Yes. I can do that. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. The thought of what I can do to you will get me through a very difficult appointment. I will just think of how much I want you, how much I have to look forward to.”
“Then let’s hope the Emir is in a good humour.” I ran my forefinger in a straight line from his throat to his groin, earning a fevered gasp for my sins.
Yakolev caught my hand and raised it to his cheek, before turning to kiss my palm. “I’ll make sure that he is and I’ll make sure that I leave that place in one piece.”
“See that you do.”
He released me with a sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
We slipped out of the passageway and onto the quiet street. Yakolev raised a hand in farewell. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening at dusk. You’d best get as much rest as you can.” He winked, turned then walked away. I took a deep breath and headed in the opposite direction, wondering how I could get rid of my erection before I returned to Akmal’s house.

Friday, April 4, 2014

It's no one's fault.

Autism Fact: Autism is not caused by a person's upbringing and is not the fault of the individual with the condition.

The topic the blog participants have been given this year is 'What have you learned from a child'. 

Lordy, this is a tough one. As a mother, I never stop learning from my son. It's been a privilege to watch him grow from a drooling, chubby little baby who was always fascinated with the colour supplements from the newspapers to a cheeky lounge lizard with a smart answer for everything. 

When you have a baby, no one presents with you with an instruction manual. Once you leave the maternity ward, you're on your own. You are faced with the frightening responsibility of caring for a helpless infant. You soon learn that babies become slippery little buggers when you put them in a bath, that little boys will do a pretty decent impression of the Trevi Fountain when you take their nappies (diapers) off , that they often prefer home-made baby food to the goo that comes in jars. 

As they grow older, you learn from their silences. Silence in the playroom probably means that you're going to walk in and find it looks like an explosion in a Lego factory, with a few plastic dinosaurs thrown in for good measure. Silence after a day at school can often mean something more sinister, like a bullying incident, or a ticking-off from a much-loved teacher. 

When you drop a dramatic change into a child's life, you learn that they have a resilience beyond their years. Our son spent 8 years of his childhood in the USA. When he was eleven we had to up sticks and return to the UK. It's a big thing for anyone, but for a child who's spent his life in one education system, it's a daunting prospect. I was terrified when he started his first day at a British school, afraid that he'd be lost in the different curriculum, much like I had felt all at sea when we first returned to this country. I needn't had worried. He made friends (more than he'd ever made in Arizona), settled into the new curriculum, and even managed to keep his grades as high as they were in his previous school. 

We've thrown a lot of stuff at our son, not by choice, but by circumstance and he never ceases to amaze me with his resilience, his good nature, his thoughtfulness. He's no saint, mind. He has teenage strops, he's a bit on the lazy side and he is perhaps a little too fond of some awful cartoons, but if I can deal with life's pitfalls and traps the way he has, so far, I'll be happy. 

So I guess this post is a bit of a love letter to my son. His name means 'gift from God' and, although I'm not a religious person, I am reminded every day that he is a gift for which I'll be forever grateful.

Now for the plug. My latest release is Tournament of Shadows, an historical novel set in Central Asia and Russia in the 19th century. 

Don't forget to check out all of the amazing blog posts. You can find the master list here.