Reasons to be British, Part 27 and a half: The Derby

Summer has arrived on our damp, green little island. From the dreaming spires of Oxford to the Epsom Downs, people will be hoping for good weather, for England to do well at Euro 2012 and for enough Pimms to see them through the long Jubilee weekend.

There are many things I love about an English summer and one of my favourite things is the horse racing. We Brits love our horses. Hell, even Shakespeare acknowledged that when he had Richard the Third shouting for a horse during the Battle of Bosworth. We're talking proper racing here with jockeys who ride with their brains and not with their whips. We're talking about one of the most beautifully bred, exquisite, temperamental creatures on the planet - the English Thoroughbred. I love them. I love their quirks, their beauty and their courage. I love the history and the pedigrees and the fact that today's thoroughbreds can all be traced back to a handful of scrappy stallions. It's the one thing I have in common with our Queen, this love and fascination for horses.

The Queen, bless her, takes her racing very seriously. She breeds race horses, she knows their pedigrees inside out, she names her horses, and let me tell you, she's very clever at naming them. Even when she's in the midst of the craziness surrounding the Diamond Jubilee, she still finds the time to enjoy her racing.  Today's big race is a prime example. It's the Epsom Derby, the original Derby. No Mint Juleps and red roses here. This race has been running since 1780.

It's a huge occasion. People come by the bus load. They fill the massive stands or crowd into the infield where proceedings are less formal. It's the second race in the British 'Triple Crown' for three-year olds. It's handy that it falls during the Diamond Jubilee celebrations because it'll be an even bigger occasion than usual. The Queen will be there. She doesn't have a runner this year, but she loves her racing and it must be a nice little 'break' from the hectic itinerary she's been keeping this year.

I'll be watching. It's the end of an era today. It's the last time we'll be able to watch it on the BBC, because from next year, another channel will be covering the race. But it's the British thing to do.

Speaking of which.  Today marks the launch of a new blog. UK M/M Romance . To celebrate this most British of occasions, me and my fellow Brit Authors - Sue Brown, Chris Quinton, R J Scott and Lisa Worrall are holding a competition to win:

a $30 gift certificate to spend with Silver Publishing

The choice of an ebook from the back catalogues of:

Sue Brown, Lisa Worrall, Chris Quinton, 

SA Meade & RJ Scott

All you have to do is visit the main blog, check out our questions, then visit each of our blogs to find the clues.

Sue Brown
Chris Quinton
R J Scott
Lisa Worrall

So, pour yourself a Pimms, tuck into those strawberries and have some fun. Happy clue hunting!

A New Look

My lovely friend and Cover Art Wizard Genius, Emmy Ellis, has redesigned my blog for me.

I absolutely love it.

xxxxx

Oh no! Not another new release!

Dudes, I promise, this is the last one until the end of August.

'Biscuits and Bunting' is my take on a behind the scenes look at a village getting ready to celebrate the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. It's a big deal here. Our village is hurling itself into the festivities with a lunch on the village green or, for the well-heeled, you can pay £60 a head to eat in a marquee in the middle of a field. The village brass band (one of the finest in the country, believe me) will  be having a concert on the green in the evening. There's all kinds of things going on. You can go to the village shop and buy a celebratory bottle of Pimms with a Union Jack all over the label,  or a 16-pack of crisps (potato chips) also emblazoned with our national flag. If you really want to throw yourself into the spirit of the occasion, there's Union Jack bunting (see above picture) for sale.

Being an anti-social old fart, I'll be staying at home and writing. I'll listen to the celebratory chimes from the church. If Friday night's bell ringing practice is anything to go by, they need to tighten things up a little, but it'll sound glorious because our bell ringers are good. It wouldn't be a Friday night in the village without the faltering chimes of practice. I may also give in and buy a bottle of Pimms so I can make Pimms cocktails to toast Lizzie's health and all that good stuff. I'll need something to wash down the salmon and cucumber sandwiches, trifle and Union Jack crisps.

It's a very British occasion and 'Biscuits and Bunting' is a Very British book. There's food porn and naughty bits. There's gossip in the village shop and someone running amok with a cricket bat. What could be more British than that?

To whet your appetite, here's a little teaser:


Neil pulled the car up in front of my house. “This is the part where you ask me in for a cup of coffee, I accept, but…somehow…we never get round to having the coffee.” He put the car in park and turned off the ignition.

I did a quick mental inventory. The bed sheets were clean. I’d just changed them that day. There was coffee, nothing lying around that shouldn’t be there, a bottle of lube and condoms in the bedroom cabinet. “Would you like to come in for a coffee?”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t say no.”

We climbed out of the car. Mrs Bramley’s net curtains twitched. I didn’t care—I was too busy fumbling for the keys.

We tumbled into the house. Like a good host, I took Neil’s coat, hung it up and backed him to the wall.
He plunged his hands into my hair and kissed me greedily. The silence was occupied by sighs, gasps and soft moans. Denim scraped on denim. Neil smelt of wood smoke and tasted of wine. He pushed back until we reeled across the hall towards the stairs.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Usual place, top of the stairs…you know.” I took his hand and led him up the narrow staircase.

Pssst! If you like it, you can buy it here

So, here's the give away question: What thing/person/whatever comes to mind when you think of Britain?
Best answer wins a PDF of 'Biscuits and Bunting'. :). A winner (or winners depending on how many entries there are) will be chosen on Wednesday, 30th May.

Mourning Jack - Give Away!

So, in this crazy busy spring, I have another book being released...Mourning  Jack. It's released by Total E Bound on Monday, 14th May. I'm back to my comfort zone with this one. It's contemporary and it has food and horses in it. Ade, the narrator, is a chef. So there's some food pr0n. I just couldn't help myself.

Mourning Jack is all about hurt,healing and moving on. Ade, being a chef, uses his skills in the kitchen to make people happy, to offer them comfort by providing them with good food. One of the dishes he gives Cal is chili con carne. I love chili, it's great on a cold and rainy day. It's hot and  it's satisfying. I don't get to have it very often because my family aren't fans of chili. But, for those who are, here's mine (and Ade's recipe)

1 pound ground beef (80/20)

ground cumin (around a tsp)

chili powder (around a tsp)

14oz can chopped tomatoes - with juice

garlic powder (about half a tsp)

salt

cayenne pepper - if you like to scorch your eyeballs.

oregano - 1 tsp.

one tin pinto beans (optional)

Brown the beef in a pan. When it's browned, stir in the ground cumin, garlic and chili powder. If you're a heat freak, this is also the time to add the cayenne pepper. Let this cook for a minute or two, until you can really smell the spices. Add the tomatoes and juice. Stir, bring to a simmer and then add the oregano and salt to taste. If it's not tomatoey enough for you, feel free to add a squirt of tomato paste. You may need to add a tiny bit of brown sugar to take the acidic edge off the tomatoes. Add the *beans, if you must. Leave to simmer until the meat is tender.

Serve in a nice deep bowl with loads of grated cheese and a dollop of sour cream on top. I also like crumbling tortilla chips over it. Yum.

*My fellow countrymen, for some reason, like to add red kidney beans to their chili. This  is an abomination. Purists say that you shouldn't add beans at all. If you must, use pinto beans. They tend to absorb the flavour of the chili rather than dominate it, like nasty big kidney beans.

What I'd love to know is what recipe do you fall back on when you've had a lousy day?

The winner of the free PDF of 'Mourning Jack' will be the person whose recipe appeals to me the most.

The winner will be announced on Wednesday, May 16th. So get posting! I'm hungry!

Glorious new cover art!

One of the absolute best things about writing and being published is that day when the cover art arrives. Today is no exception. Total E Bound's Art Director, Emmy Ellis, has produced another gorgeous cover. This one is for the first of 'The Endersley Papers' series, 'Lord of Endersley', which is due to be released at the end of August.

I think the artwork captures the story perfectly. So, without further delay, here it is!

Sometimes, it only takes a song.

I love to write. I really do. I can't help it.

I get these characters who turn up on my doorstep and demand that I tell their stories. Sometimes it's easy. They know exactly what they want to say, where they want to go, what they want to do. Sometimes, it's not so easy.

I knew I wanted to write a story about a chef. I love food. I love reading cook books, I love cooking. People have complained that some of my emails are food p0rn. Food seems to turn up a lot in my stories. The trouble was, I couldn't quite decide what to do with Ade. It took a few attempts to find a story that fit him best. But I was still missing that elusive final spark that kicks off the writing.

For some writers that spark is a visual clue, a picture, a moment when the sun slips over the rooftops or snow swirls past a window. For me, it's always music, it always seems to be a song that sets things off. That's certainly how it was for 'Mourning Jack'. I happened to watch the 2011 Brit Awards and there was a performance that brought the audience to its feet and gave me chills. That's when Ade's story finally fell into place.

Is there a song that inspires you?

Today's guest - Stephen Osborne talks about Wrestling with Jesus

It's a wet and windy day here in deepest Wiltshire. The perfect day for curling up on the settee with a box of chocolates and a good book. If you're looking for something to read, you might want to give Stephen Osborne's book, 'Wrestling with Jesus' a try. Intrigued by the title? I was too. But Stephen explains all.

In my younger days, I actually did some professional wrestling, as unbelievable as that would sound to anyone who knows me! As I had a boyish face and was skinny as a rail, I was what is known as a jobber (this means I generally got the snot beat out of me). The character of Kyle in Wrestling With Jesus is based in part on a guy I had several matches with. "Kyle" was bigger than me and had long, light brown hair and a short beard and mustache. We worked well together, and I think people liked seeing him beating the crap out of me. I got a few licks in, but he always managed to mangle me in the end! It never occured to me that "Kyle" resembled a certain historical figure until I began to hear people say things like, "When are you going to fight that guy that looks like Jesus again?" When I began writing Wrestling With Jesus, (which didn't have a title at the time) the picture of Kyle and me in the ring kept coming into my mind. Naturally, the guy I used to wrestle on occasion was very different from the character in the book in terms of personality and mental prowess, but physically they are one and the same! I wonder what ever became of "Kyle?"

Excerpt: THE folded chair hit the back of Kyle’s head with a resounding thud that could be heard at the top of the bleachers. Kyle flew forward, hitting the ropes. His opponent, a rather good-looking Hispanic kid who went by the unlikely name of El Toro, swung again and slammed the chair into the center of Kyle’s back. Kyle collapsed to the canvas, seemingly dead to the world, as the crowd cheered.

Randy Stone, sitting far up in the bleachers in an attempt to distance himself from the more rabid wrestling fans in attendance, winced in sympathy. “I don’t care what he says. That’s got to hurt like a son of a bitch.”

Randy’s companion, a raven-haired beauty and card-carrying fag hag named Debbie Jacobs, munched on her popcorn. “I can’t see what attracts you to the guy. If you ask me, he’s got a hot body, but that’s about it. He’s got the brains of a split pea.”

“You haven’t even met him yet,” Randy replied, the tension in his stomach mounting to Huge Fucking Butterfly levels. He’d been worried that Debbie would be skeptical about his blossoming romance with a professional wrestler, but he’d hoped she wouldn’t start off with quite such an openly negative attitude.

“He just got hit by a chair. Twice. And he let the guy do it. Believe me, he’s got the brains of a split pea, and that’s being insulting to split peas. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure this Kyle guy is fine for a quick fling, but you’ve been acting like he’s The One, and I just can’t see that.”

“He’s sweet,” Randy replied. “He’s just a really nice guy, and he treats me like I’m Einstein.”

“Compared to him, you are.”

 “I admit, at first it was his hot bod that attracted me, but it’s developed beyond that. I’m really falling for the guy.”

“Seems like you might fall quite literally. I’m betting he’ll want to body slam you before sex or something like that. He looks like he’s got that gorilla mentality.” Debbie chewed more popcorn. “How on earth did you ever meet up with this guy? Didn’t you say he was a closet case? You didn’t meet up at a club, then. And I’m pretty sure he isn’t a customer at your bookstore. That guy never progressed beyond Hop on Pop.” She found a kernel that hadn’t popped and spit it back into the bag.

“Would you give him a chance?” Randy pleaded. “I really like this guy, Debbie. I want the two of you to get along.”

An older gentleman near them was staring not at the ring but at Debbie, or more precisely at Debbie’s chest. She caught him and flashed the guy an angry glare. “Hey, Gomer, the action is down there in the ring.”

The man flushed and shifted his gaze back to the middle of the gym.

In the ring, the tide of events had turned. Kyle Temple had managed to kick El Toro in the genitals without the referee catching him. After several punches to El Toro’s face that would, in a real fight, have resulted in the Hispanic boy suddenly sporting at the very least a bloody nose but instead simply gave El Toro a stunned look, Kyle leaped up and dropkicked the handsome kid right out of the ring.

“So violent,” Debbie muttered.

“It’s not real,” Randy reminded her.

“Well, duh. That poor little bastard would have been wheeled out of here on a cart minutes ago if these blows were actually landing full force.”

“It’s like playacting,” Randy continued, picking up on Debbie’s condescending attitude toward his new beau’s chosen profession. “They’re enjoying themselves and entertaining the crowd. What’s wrong with that?”

A grimy teen seated in front of Randy turned around, a sneer on his pimpled face. “You can’t fake that shit, dude. Say that any louder and Kyle Temple will come up here and pound the fuck out of you.”

Randy shrugged. “He pounded the fuck out of me pretty good last night, actually.”

Debbie laughed, nearly choking on her popcorn. The teen frowned in confusion before turning back to watch the action in the ring.

Intrigued and want to read more? Check out the details here: Wrestling with Jesus