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Giveaway: Jordan & Rhys by Sue Brown
Buylink: Dreamspinner | Amazon | All Romance
Book #1 Frankie & Al
Book #2 Ed & Marchant
Book #3 Anthony & Leo
Eight months after the assault in which his sub and lover was killed, Jordan Nicholls isn’t making much progress in his recovery. Marchant and Ed, Jordan’s friends from the BDSM club, stage an intervention.
They employ a carer to look after Jordan. Rhys may be a sub, but he’s forceful, making Jordan eat and exercise rather than live on coffee and cigarettes. Despite Jordan’s protests, Rhys slowly forces him back to life.
But Rhys wants to be Jordan’s sub, and despite being protective of Rhys, Jordan’s not sure he can ever return to the BDSM lifestyle. In order for their relationship to continue, they’ll need to find a compromise that meets both their needs.A Novella in Frankie’s Series
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Eight months later
JORDAN SAT alone at the end of the bar, nursing a Coke and pretending not to notice his best friend, Tony, who was pushed up against the wall, his hands pressed flat against rough plaster as Leo kissed him.
“Wishing it was you?” Marchant Belarus sat on the stool next to Jordan. He was the owner of the BDSM club and too fucking perceptive. There was nothing he didn’t see or interfere in when it came to his club.
Jordan couldn’t take his gaze away from the couple, watching with a sad envy that didn’t come naturally to him. “Leo’s not my type.”
His lame attempt at a joke fell flat when Marchant didn’t chuckle.
“I never thought he’d be Tony’s, but look at them now.”
Finally Tony had a Dom of his own, and he exuded happiness. Despite the fact that Leo was younger and shorter than Tony, it was clear who was dominant in their relationship. For the first time, Jordan saw Tony, watched how beautifully he submitted—and Jordan was too late.
“Tony waited for years for you to notice him,” Marchant said quietly.
“You think I didn’t know that? I just thought…. Leo’s better for him than I am.” Jordan turned his head as Tony sank to his knees. The couple weren’t bothered by an audience. They never seemed to notice anyone else when they were in a scene. Jordan gave Marchant a wan smile. “What do you want? Apart from reminding me what I’ve lost.”
“Ed’s worried about you. He sent me to talk to you.”
“I’m fine.” Jordan gritted his teeth as Marchant raised an eyebrow. Could you raise a derisive eyebrow? Marchant possessed eyebrows that conducted whole conversations, particularly when he thought someone was being an arse. “It’s taking time.”
Marchant patted his back, not requiring more explanation. It had been eight months since Jordan had been badly injured in an assault in which his sub, Mike, had been killed. Jordan was still recovering from the physical injuries, and the mental trauma was like a scar to his soul. Once outgoing and gregarious, now Jordan shuffled through the day, feeling like he was wrapped in layers of gray wool that muffled him from the outside world. Marchant’s sub, Ed, had once told Jordan that he breathed for the first time the day he met Marchant. Jordan had stopped breathing the day three drunk thugs used their fists to tear his world apart.
Jordan swallowed hard at the memory, and then he noticed Marchant had put his arm around him and Tony was pressed against him, also holding him. Solid walls of men hemmed him in, made him feel safe.
“What?”
Tony gently swiped a tear from Jordan’s face. Jordan hadn’t even realized he was crying, but his nose was blocked and his throat tight. He rested his head on Tony’s chest and let the tears flow.
Finally he raised his head, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. “Shit, I’m sorry, Tony. You—”
“Shut up.” Tony hugged him even tighter.
“Get off.” Jordan tried to bat them away. “Christ, you’re going to suffocate me.”
They stepped back, to his relief, but they didn’t leave his side—which was also a relief, even if he’d never admit it.
“Why don’t you go upstairs for a while?” Marchant said. “Ed’s working, and the place is empty.”
Jordan pushed back his hair, grimacing at the greasy feel. He’d let himself go recently, finding even washing his hair was a battle. His arm had taken a long time to heal, and he struggled with even basic motor skills.
“I’ll go home before I make a bigger idiot of myself.” He loved his friends, but suddenly their concern was too much. It pressed down on him, and he needed to get away.
“I’ll run you home,” Tony said, looking over to Leo to check if it was all right.
“It’s okay, I can get the bus.” Jordan hadn’t been able to drive since the assault. A blow to the head had left him with intermittent seizures in the early stages, and he was banned from driving for a year.
“I’ll drive Mr. Jordan home.”
Jordan turned to look at the unknown speaker. He was young and slim, maybe Leo’s age, maybe younger, with a shock of dark hair that looked as if he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket.
“Thanks, but I’m okay.”
“Sorted,” Marchant said with satisfaction. “Jordan, this is Rhys. He’s new to the club. Thank you, Rhys.”
Giveaway
I have a mega Frankie series giveaway on Rafflecopter. $15 giftcard, audible codes for Ed & Marchant and Anthony & Leo, a signed copy of Frankie & Friends, and ebooks from my back catalogue. Giveaway ends 3rd December 12.00 GMT.Direct link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/6050dd134/?
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Retro Reads: Point of No Return
THIRD EDITION
BUY LINKS: Amazon | Pride Publishing | ARe | B&N
BLURB:
Matthew Elliot is one of LA’s best detectives. He’s been labelled the golden boy of the Fab Four: a team of four detectives who’ve closed down drug-rings all over the city. He’s smart, tough and exceptionally good at his job.
He’s also a closeted gay man.
Enter Kira Takeo Franco, the new boxing coach at the gym. Matthew can’t deny his immediate attraction to the man his fellow cops know as Frankie. But in allowing himself to fall in love with a man known to his colleagues, Matthew risks outing them both.
Matt and Kira work to keep their relationship and private lives hidden from Matt’s very public life, fearing it would be detrimental to their careers.
But it’s not the other cops who Matthew should be worried about finding out his deepest, darkest secret…it’s the bad guys.
EXCERPT:
The four of us hit the gym like we always did after a stressful day and were met by a round of applause from the other cops who were there working out. The gym itself was a main floor space with various fitness equipment, a service desk and some rooms off the far wall for different classes. It smelt like sweat and dirty socks. I loved it.
On the wall facing the treadmills was a row of TV screens, usually showing repeats of different sports. But not tonight. The TV screens were tuned to the five o’clock news, and all the guys there were watching the four of us standing outside the West Street headquarters.
A reporter introduced the story. “Breaking another link in one of LA’s biggest drug chains, Croatian expat Pavao Tomic was taken down in what can only be described as a successful drug heist by police.”
I waved them off, heading straight for the treadmills. I didn’t need to watch it.
I’d been there.
“Detective Elliott, it must be a relief after weeks of hard work to finally have this notorious drug supplier in custody.”
“Yes, it is,” I heard myself answer diplomatically on-screen. “The streets of LA are safer. The people of LA are better off with Tomic behind bars.”
What I couldn’t say on air was that the slimeball deserved everything he got. With no regard for human life, types like Pavao Tomic were best left to rot in jail.
Instead, all suited up out in front of HQ, the television version of me went on to say it wasn’t just me who did all the work, like the press insinuated, but a team effort.
I didn’t outrank the other three men on my team. I didn’t do anything they didn’t do, but that wasn’t how the media portrayed it. To them, I was the leader of the media-dubbed ‘Fab Four’—one of four detectives in the Narcotics Division who had broken crime rings right across the city. My partner, Detective Mitch Seaton, and detective partners Kurt Webber and Tony Milic made up the rest of the team who had seen a record number of criminals behind bars.
“Yeah,” Mitch snorted from the treadmill beside me. “The one-man show here did it all on his own.”
I rolled my eyes before looking over at the other guys. “Any time either of you three idiots want to speak up when the cameras start rolling, be my guest.”
Kurt laughed. “No freakin’ way! I’d rather your ugly mug be all over the news than mine.”
“The general public would too,” Mitch joked. He reached over and tapped the side of my face. “This pretty-boy makes all us cops look good.”
Tony laughed at me, and the three of them started talking crap just like the media did. But they gave up trying to goad me when they realised I wasn’t going to bite. I tuned them out and tuned into the rhythm of my feet hitting the treadmill instead.
They’d settled in to running it out on the treadmills with me when Kurt told us he couldn’t stay long because he had dinner plans with his girlfriend, Rachel. “Workout first, then we hit the bar, just for a few. It’s been a helluva week.”
And so it had.
We’d spent months watching Tomic, waiting for the intel to pay off, nabbing him red-handed in a multi-million-dollar drug bust. It had paid off today. No one injured, no casualties, several million dollars’ worth of cocaine, ice and meth off the streets and one more link in the crime chain behind bars.
So we did what we always did. The four of us hit the gym, then we hit the bar. They didn’t drink much, and I drank even less, but we’d blow off steam in the gym then unwind in the bar, talking crap and having a laugh. It was a cops’ gym and a cops’ bar. I’d been a cop for ten of my twenty-eight years. Police work was all I knew.
The guys I worked with were like my family, like brothers. I knew almost everything about them, as they did with me.
Almost everything. There was one part of my life they knew nothing about.
When the other guys commented on me being the blond-haired, blue-eyed playboy of the police force, the one all the ladies wanted, I was reminded of exactly what it was they didn’t know about me.
Because it wasn’t the ladies I wanted at all.
That was what they didn’t know about me. That was what I kept secret. Hidden. Private. Would the guys I worked with treat me differently if they knew I was gay? Maybe…probably…
I wasn’t ashamed. I wasn’t scared. I didn’t flaunt being gay because I didn’t want it to precede me. I wanted to be known for being a good cop, not a gay cop. But above all, I kept my sexuality to myself because it was no one else’s goddamn business.
After twenty minutes on the treadmill, I jumped off, ready for my bag workout. Boxing was my thing. The gym had a sparring room—no ring, just mats and pads. It was mostly just a form of fitness, and a little self-defence. The other guys on my team didn’t bother with it. They’d watch me spar sometimes, and they’d tease and taunt me, but not one of them had the balls to spar with me.
I headed into the boxing room, and Chris, the owner of the gym, followed me. “Hey, Matt!” he called from the door. “There’ll be a new trainer taking your session today.”
“No worries,” I replied. “Is Vinnie okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chris nodded. “Just a change in his timetable, that’s all.” He looked over my shoulder and called some guy over. “Frankie, this here is Matthew Elliott. He’s your five-thirty appointment. Matt, this is Frankie.”
I looked at him then, my new boxing trainer. And I got stuck.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I did a double take, trying not to give myself away. But he was fucking beautiful. He had dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes. He was European, or Asian. Or both.
He smiled. Oh, fuck. His smile.
“Frankie’s real name I can’t pronounce,” Chris went on to say with a laugh. “But he knows I’m an ex-cop and not overly bright, so he forgives me.”
This Frankie guy extended his hand and introduced himself formally. “Kira Takeo Franco.” I couldn’t detect an accent, but his name rolled exotically off his tongue. I shook his hand, and our eyes met. It was like I couldn’t look away. His stare deepened for just a second and his eyes flashed, as though he could tell I found him attractive. Then he smiled and said, “You’re the guy on TV.”
“The one and the same,” Chris said. “Anyway,” he continued to me, with a smile, “I’ve seen Frankie in action and thought I’d come in and watch how he does with our best student.”
Then the door behind me swung open, and Mitch, Kurt and Tony walked in.
I looked at my team standing in the door, all smiling, then back to Chris. “And what are they here for?”
Chris answered hesitantly. “Well, Frankie’s pretty good. I might have told them it could be…entertaining.”
I looked at the three smiling cops, my so-called partners. “And you guys have come in to watch me get my ass kicked?”
They nodded and laughed, and Mitch defended me…well, kind of. “I got twenty on ya,” he said. He threw his thumb back at Kurt and Tony. “These two aren’t so confident.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled at them, then started strapping my hands. When I turned around and saw my sparring partner, I almost lost my breath. He was stretching out—his broad shoulders were barely concealed by his singlet top, revealing well-defined muscles and beautiful, olive skin. My dick twitched.
Goddamn it.
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Lovely Review for Exchange of Hearts
Thank you to Love Bytes for a lovely review of Exchange of Hearts. It received a wonderful 4.5 stars!
I love a good young adult romance as much as the next person, ok I probably love them more than most, but it takes a talented author to convince me that two teenage boys who are falling in love for the first time are going to be together forever. Luckily, nobody does hearts and flowers like N.R. Walker does hearts and flowers. Harrison and Levi had me from hello…not that they said hello, it was more a leering once over, but hey, teenage boys right!? Read the rest here.
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End Street Book 5: The Case of the Purple Pearl by Amber Kell and RJ Scott
End Street Book 5: The Case of the Purple Pearl by Amber Kell and RJ Scott
Buylinks here when available: http://rjscottauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/the-case-of-purple-pearl-end-street-5.html
Blurb: After failing in a quest to win the Fae Queen’s approval, Halstein is locked in a world of stone. Forced to remain a gargoyle he spends his days on Sam’s desk pining for his lost love.
Prince Idris’s lover went missing and was presumed dead. Alone, Idris lives a life away from court, starved of energy but unwilling to sleep in the room he once shared with his beloved.
Can Sam and Bob save these fated lovers before it’s too late? And will Bob’s ultimate sacrifice be enough to free Hal from his prison?
Volume 1 – Books 1 & 2
Book 1 – The Case of the Cupid Curse
Book 2 – The Case of the Wicked WolfVolume 2 – Books 3 & 4
Book 3 – The Case of the Dragon’s Dilemma
Book 4 – The Case of the Sinful SantaExcerpt:
Chapter One
“What are you doing?”Sam sighed. This was the fifth time today their visiting gargoyle had asked him that. Three weeks had passed since it had decided to stay at the house and wait for Sam to find it a master. And those three weeks had lasted a very long time.
“Taxes,” Sam muttered. The same answer he’d given every single time he’d been asked.
“I don’t like math,” the little gargoyle said. He waddled across Sam’s desk, leaving small muddy footprints on a neatly filled-in form. Sam couldn’t even muster the energy to get angry.
“Are you going to tell me your name yet?” Sam asked. He placed his pen on the desk and leaned back with a stretch, eying the small gargoyle against the hulking monstrosity that sat immobile on the corner of his desk. They were so dissimilar, in size and expression.
“You know I can only tell my master.”
“I can’t keep calling you the little gargoyle. I’m going to have to give you a name.”
The little gargoyle turned in a circle to face Sam, then squatted into a pose with his mouth open in a snarl. It looked pretty mean, and Sam edged back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
The gargoyle’s expression changed back to the one he usually had; that of a dopey baby.
“Nothing, I was just giving you my fierce face so you can give me the right name. I’m not having you calling me Sunshine or Cutie. I want something strong like Zephariel Angel of Vengeance.”
Sam couldn’t help the snort of laughter, then immediately felt guilty when the gargoyle’s expression fell. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just, uhm, that name is taken. How about Leo, like a lion, a brave, strong lion.”
The gargoyle tilted his head in contemplation, then nodded. “Leo, I like Leo. I’m done with you now. You already have a gargoyle. I’m going to find my true master.”
That decided, he jumped down off the desk and waddled over to the door, sidestepping awkwardly when Smudge slunk in with intent in every step. In a leap, Smudge was up on the desk, sitting right on the tax forms and staring straight into Sam’s face.
“What are you doing?” Smudge asked telepathically.
“Taxes,” Sam answered. He didn’t add a sigh this time.
“You should be tracking down what kind of other your uncle’s pet gargoyle is.”
Leo, the newly named visiting gargoyle, had declared that the old paperweight on Sam’s desk that looked like a gargoyle, walked like a gargoyle, and was stone like a gargoyle, wasn’t actually a gargoyle at all, but other.
“Where do you suggest I start? And why can’t you tell what it is, oh powerful familiar.” Sam couldn’t help the sarcasm. Smudge was capable of putting souls back in bodies and using heavy magic, but he couldn’t track down what kind of paranormal had been transformed into an ancient crumbling gargoyle paperweight?
“I’ll forget you said that,” Smudge said condescendingly. “I’ve been busy.”
“With what?” Sam asked. Privately he thought Smudge spent too much time cleaning himself with his paws up in the air and his tongue—
“I can hear you,” Smudge warned. “And who else do you think can keep your attic spider infestation at bay?”
Sam shuddered. He didn’t like small spiders at best, let alone the giant ones Smudge had suggested lived only a few floors up. “Good work,” Sam praised. “And as to our paperweight friend here—” Sam tapped the solid stone thing on the head with a stapler. “—I’ve put out a request to everyone I know as to who may be missing someone. I used the ParaGoogle to see if anyone knows anything. Not sure what else I can do at this stage.”
Smudge gave a feline version of a huff, deliberately washed himself on the desk for a good five minutes, then disappeared out of the room. Sam shook off the fur that had fallen on his paperwork. This needed to be done and, unless he finished it soon, he’d have the authorities fining him all over the place.
A knock on his office door jerked Sam from his sad contemplation of the bills he had to pay. Although he’d earned some money recently and he owned the building where he worked and lived, the flow of money going out far exceeded the money rushing into his pockets.
Taxes were a bitch.
Giveaway
Competition to win $15 Amazon/Are giftcard, and 2 further prizes of RJ Scott e-books – closes 6th December at 00:01 GMT (London)
DIRECT LINK:
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/f922301b63/
About RJ
RJ Scott has been writing since age six, when she was made to stay in at lunchtime for an infraction involving cookies. She was told to write a story and two sides of paper about a trapped princess later, a lover of writing was born.
As an avid reader herself, she can be found reading anything from thrillers to sci-fi to horror. However, her first real true love will always be the world of romance where she takes cowboys, bodyguards, firemen and billionaires (to name a few) and writes dramatic and romantic stories of love and passion between these men.
With over seventy titles to her name and counting, she is the author of the award winning book, The Christmas Throwaway. She is also known for the Texas series charting the lives of Riley and Jack, and the Sanctuary series following the work of the Sanctuary Foundation and the people it protects.
Her goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.
https://twitter.com/Rjscott_author
www.facebook.com/author.rjscott
www.librarything.com/author/scottrj
www.tumblr.com/blog/rjscott (some NSFW (not safe for work) photos)
www.pinterest.com/rjscottauthor/
About Amber Kell:
Amber Kell is one of those quiet people they always tell you to watch out for. She lives in Dallas with her husband, two sons, and one extremely stupid dog.
http://www.amberkellbooks.com/
https://amberkell.wordpress.com/https://www.facebook.com/amber.kell.7
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Exchange of Hearts is now on All Romance eBooks
Buy Links: Amazon |Smashwords | All Romance eBooks
iBooks and Barnes and Noble will be posted asap!
Blurb: Eighteen-year-old Harrison Haddon has grown up alone. Surrounded by wealth, nannies, and material things, all he craves is the approval of his father. Sent away to the boarding school his father and grandfather attended, it’s assumed he will follow in their footsteps from Sydney’s prestigious Ivy League school straight into medical school.
But Harrison doesn’t want to be a doctor.
He dreams of music and classical piano. His only true happiness, his escape from the world expected of him, is dismissed by his intolerant and emotionally detached parents.
Levi Aston arrives from London for a three-month student exchange program. Free-spirited and confident in who he is and what he wants to do with his life, Levi convinces Harrison not give up on his dreams.
But convincing Harrison not to give up on his family might not be so easy.Excerpt
SYDNEY
CHAPTER ONEI walked side by side with the blonde, well-dressed woman and ignored the looks and laughter from the other guys.
Along with our student advisor, Miss Goff, I’d been relegated as the welcoming committee to the new kid. As part of a student exchange program, a kid from England was joining the ever-so-prestigious St. Michael’s Boarding School for three months.
So, why me? Why did I get picked to go?
Because he was going to be my roommate. That was why.
As we got to the car, Miss Goff stopped. “Oh, I just remembered I left the file in my office. I’ll be right back, Harrison,” she told me. “Wait here. I won’t be a minute.”
As she turned and walked briskly back toward the building, I leaned against the car, knowing the other kids would soon start with the slurs and teasing. I looked up, and of course it was him I saw.
“Have fun with Miss Goff,” Carson taunted me suggestively. The other boys laughed. His personal entourage, of course they laughed. They were all rugby players, and I was the music nerd. Tall and thin, my dark hair made my skin look paler than it really was, with long piano-playing fingers, and I was usually alone—I was the opposite to their athletic builds and jock-pack mentality. Carson laughed the loudest. “No making out with the teacher at the airport, Haddon.”
I didn’t even bother with a comeback. Why fucking bother?
He knew damn well she wasn’t my type.
She. No, shes were not my type at all.
He knew this. He knew it damn fucking well. Because he and I had fooled around together. On the quiet, of course. In the darkened privacy of his room, only when he was certain there was no one else around, when it suited him.
Just kissing mostly, rubbing, dry humping—whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.
Making out. First base. Whatever.
It was after our last encounter that things changed.
It was about two in the morning and we’d been making out in his bed. We were both so hard, and he was whining and moaning as we writhed against one another. So I slipped my hand under the waistband of his boxers, and I gave him a hand job.
Skin on skin.
I wrapped my hand around his dick, pumped and squeezed him, and not a moment later he came.
It was the fucking hottest thing. Ever.
But afterwards, when his mind had cleared of his jizz-high, he was… different. He pulled away from me and suggested coldly I go back to my room.
It was too real for him.
I figured he just needed a day or two and then things would go back to normal.
But they didn’t. They got worse.
The jokes, the taunting. It had been over three months now, and he still made fun of me. Although I could see it in his eyes, as he was saying hurtful things, his eyes were saying sorry.
And I couldn’t bring myself to say anything back. I just… couldn’t.
“You ready, Harrison?” Miss Goff’s voice startled me. She had a manila folder in her hand. “We’d better go if we’re going to be there when the plane arrives. We don’t want to be late.”
After we got into the car, she handed me the folder and then pulled out onto Ryde Road traffic, heading toward the city. I held the folder in my hands, not even bothering to open it. I couldn’t care fucking less about some foreign exchange student. If I had to put up with a roommate, I didn’t want to look at his face for any longer than necessary.
Miss Goff sensed my mood. “Don’t worry about those boys,” she told me. “People like Carson Sinclair aren’t worth your time.”
I snorted. If only she knew.
We drove for a few minutes in silence. Then she asked, “How’s the music coming along?”
We discussed my music for the rest of the drive. It was an easy subject for me, my love of piano, even though she knew I couldn’t make a career out of it. But thankfully before too much longer, we were walking into Sydney Airport’s International terminal.
I figured this kid would take a while to get through customs and there’d be some kind of paperwork to fill out—I was also guessing you couldn’t just walk into the airport and take some random kid. So presuming it was gonna take a while, I told Miss Goff, “I’m just going to grab a Coke. Can I get you anything?”
She was distracted enough, double-checking the board of flight numbers and arrival gates, and without looking at me, she shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said, before reminding me, like I was five years old and not eighteen, not to wander off, not to go too far, and to come straight back.
I grabbed a drink, and keeping an eye on Miss Goff every now and then, I browsed through magazine racks. There was nothing really worth looking at—a nice one with Hugh Jackman on the cover, but I noticed two guys near the wall looking at a map. Obviously backpackers or hikers or something. They were dressed in cargos and T-shirts, hiking shoes; young, fit, healthy.
Hot.
I picked up a magazine and pretended to read it, but really I was just checking the two guys out. I didn’t often get the opportunity to perv on guys, so I took my time.
Only they caught me staring, smiled politely and moved on. They walked past some other guy who seemed to have been watching me watching them, because he was trying not to laugh.
He was cute too; tall as me, blond-brown messy hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and his pink lips gave him a nice smile. He looked fit but not like the football meatheads back at school.
I wasn’t embarrassed to have been caught looking—even in full school uniform, no one here knew me, and Miss Goff was nowhere in sight. So I decided to play it up. I looked him up and down, shrugged one shoulder, gave him one raised eyebrow and half a smirk.
He grinned, then turned his head quickly like someone called his name.
Exactly like someone called his name.
Like Miss Goff.
Fuck.
Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!
That was him?
My roommate for the next three months was the guy I just checked out?
I watched—like a slow motion car crash—as Miss Goff greeted him and offered to take his suitcase. She looked up, saw me, and called me over. His eyes followed hers, and when he saw it was me, his eyes widened, and he grinned like the Cheshire fucking cat.
I stuffed the magazine back in the rack and walked over, wishing the world would end in the next two seconds.
No such luck.
“Levi Aston?” Miss Goff said.
“Yes, Miss,” he said with a posh British accent and a smile.
She grinned. “We’d like to welcome you to Sydney, Australia. St. Michael’s is proud to have you,” she said. Then she looked at me, “This is Harrison Haddon. He’s a boarder. He’ll be your roommate and can show you around the school.”
Levi extended his hand and looked at me with a knowing smirk. “Hello, Harrison.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“Hello,” I said, shaking his hand for as long as was considered polite, then let it drop.
I was in such deep shit.
Giveaway:
As you know, my wordpress isn’t widget/java script friendly, so please click on the rafflecopter image below to enter!
Competition to win 2x $10 Amazon giftcard, and 2 further prizes of N.R. Walker e-books – closes 27th November at 00:01 Sydney
Or the direct link to the rafflecopter is HERE
Good luck!!! <3
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Review of Exchange of Hearts
Woohoo! Exchange of Hearts is out and has its first 4 star review. Thank you, Multitasking Mommas.
This is a story that is low in angst and drama but terrifically high on the romance. I love books like these. I can take the time out, go to a cafe, sip coffee or relaxing tea and just lose myself in the romance. It is books like these that make me crave an N.R. Walker because she always leaves me feeling good and grinning like an idiot. Read the rest here. -
Exchange of Hearts is out today!!
Buy Links: Amazon |Smashwords | All Romance eBooks
iBooks and Barnes and Noble will be posted asap!
Blurb: Eighteen-year-old Harrison Haddon has grown up alone. Surrounded by wealth, nannies, and material things, all he craves is the approval of his father. Sent away to the boarding school his father and grandfather attended, it’s assumed he will follow in their footsteps from Sydney’s prestigious Ivy League school straight into medical school.
But Harrison doesn’t want to be a doctor.
He dreams of music and classical piano. His only true happiness, his escape from the world expected of him, is dismissed by his intolerant and emotionally detached parents.
Levi Aston arrives from London for a three-month student exchange program. Free-spirited and confident in who he is and what he wants to do with his life, Levi convinces Harrison not give up on his dreams.
But convincing Harrison not to give up on his family might not be so easy.Reviews:
Multitasking Mommas: 4 stars – “…It is books like these that make me crave an N.R. Walker because she always leaves me feeling good and grinning like an idiot.” Read the rest here.
Love Bytes: 4.5 stars – “Luckily, nobody does hearts and flowers like N.R. Walker does hearts and flowers. Harrison and Levi had me from hello…not that they said hello, it was more a leering once over, but hey, teenage boys right!?” Read the rest here.
Excerpt:
SYDNEY
CHAPTER ONEI walked side by side with the blonde, well-dressed woman and ignored the looks and laughter from the other guys.
Along with our student advisor, Miss Goff, I’d been relegated as the welcoming committee to the new kid. As part of a student exchange program, a kid from England was joining the ever-so-prestigious St. Michael’s Boarding School for three months.
So, why me? Why did I get picked to go?
Because he was going to be my roommate. That was why.
As we got to the car, Miss Goff stopped. “Oh, I just remembered I left the file in my office. I’ll be right back, Harrison,” she told me. “Wait here. I won’t be a minute.”
As she turned and walked briskly back toward the building, I leaned against the car, knowing the other kids would soon start with the slurs and teasing. I looked up, and of course it was him I saw.
“Have fun with Miss Goff,” Carson taunted me suggestively. The other boys laughed. His personal entourage, of course they laughed. They were all rugby players, and I was the music nerd. Tall and thin, my dark hair made my skin look paler than it really was, with long piano-playing fingers, and I was usually alone—I was the opposite to their athletic builds and jock-pack mentality. Carson laughed the loudest. “No making out with the teacher at the airport, Haddon.”
I didn’t even bother with a comeback. Why fucking bother?
He knew damn well she wasn’t my type.
She. No, shes were not my type at all.
He knew this. He knew it damn fucking well. Because he and I had fooled around together. On the quiet, of course. In the darkened privacy of his room, only when he was certain there was no one else around, when it suited him.
Just kissing mostly, rubbing, dry humping—whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.
Making out. First base. Whatever.
It was after our last encounter that things changed.
It was about two in the morning and we’d been making out in his bed. We were both so hard, and he was whining and moaning as we writhed against one another. So I slipped my hand under the waistband of his boxers, and I gave him a hand job.
Skin on skin.
I wrapped my hand around his dick, pumped and squeezed him, and not a moment later he came.
It was the fucking hottest thing. Ever.
But afterwards, when his mind had cleared of his jizz-high, he was… different. He pulled away from me and suggested coldly I go back to my room.
It was too real for him.
I figured he just needed a day or two and then things would go back to normal.
But they didn’t. They got worse.
The jokes, the taunting. It had been over three months now, and he still made fun of me. Although I could see it in his eyes, as he was saying hurtful things, his eyes were saying sorry.
And I couldn’t bring myself to say anything back. I just… couldn’t.
“You ready, Harrison?” Miss Goff’s voice startled me. She had a manila folder in her hand. “We’d better go if we’re going to be there when the plane arrives. We don’t want to be late.”
After we got into the car, she handed me the folder and then pulled out onto Ryde Road traffic, heading toward the city. I held the folder in my hands, not even bothering to open it. I couldn’t care fucking less about some foreign exchange student. If I had to put up with a roommate, I didn’t want to look at his face for any longer than necessary.
Miss Goff sensed my mood. “Don’t worry about those boys,” she told me. “People like Carson Sinclair aren’t worth your time.”
I snorted. If only she knew.
We drove for a few minutes in silence. Then she asked, “How’s the music coming along?”
We discussed my music for the rest of the drive. It was an easy subject for me, my love of piano, even though she knew I couldn’t make a career out of it. But thankfully before too much longer, we were walking into Sydney Airport’s International terminal.
I figured this kid would take a while to get through customs and there’d be some kind of paperwork to fill out—I was also guessing you couldn’t just walk into the airport and take some random kid. So presuming it was gonna take a while, I told Miss Goff, “I’m just going to grab a Coke. Can I get you anything?”
She was distracted enough, double-checking the board of flight numbers and arrival gates, and without looking at me, she shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said, before reminding me, like I was five years old and not eighteen, not to wander off, not to go too far, and to come straight back.
I grabbed a drink, and keeping an eye on Miss Goff every now and then, I browsed through magazine racks. There was nothing really worth looking at—a nice one with Hugh Jackman on the cover, but I noticed two guys near the wall looking at a map. Obviously backpackers or hikers or something. They were dressed in cargos and T-shirts, hiking shoes; young, fit, healthy.
Hot.
I picked up a magazine and pretended to read it, but really I was just checking the two guys out. I didn’t often get the opportunity to perv on guys, so I took my time.
Only they caught me staring, smiled politely and moved on. They walked past some other guy who seemed to have been watching me watching them, because he was trying not to laugh.
He was cute too; tall as me, blond-brown messy hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and his pink lips gave him a nice smile. He looked fit but not like the football meatheads back at school.
I wasn’t embarrassed to have been caught looking—even in full school uniform, no one here knew me, and Miss Goff was nowhere in sight. So I decided to play it up. I looked him up and down, shrugged one shoulder, gave him one raised eyebrow and half a smirk.
He grinned, then turned his head quickly like someone called his name.
Exactly like someone called his name.
Like Miss Goff.
Fuck.
Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!
That was him?
My roommate for the next three months was the guy I just checked out?
I watched—like a slow motion car crash—as Miss Goff greeted him and offered to take his suitcase. She looked up, saw me, and called me over. His eyes followed hers, and when he saw it was me, his eyes widened, and he grinned like the Cheshire fucking cat.
I stuffed the magazine back in the rack and walked over, wishing the world would end in the next two seconds.
No such luck.
“Levi Aston?” Miss Goff said.
“Yes, Miss,” he said with a posh British accent and a smile.
She grinned. “We’d like to welcome you to Sydney, Australia. St. Michael’s is proud to have you,” she said. Then she looked at me, “This is Harrison Haddon. He’s a boarder. He’ll be your roommate and can show you around the school.”
Levi extended his hand and looked at me with a knowing smirk. “Hello, Harrison.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“Hello,” I said, shaking his hand for as long as was considered polite, then let it drop.
I was in such deep shit.Giveaway:
As you know, my wordpress isn’t widget/java script friendly, so please click on the rafflecopter image below to enter!
Competition to win 2x $10 Amazon giftcard, and 2 further prizes of N.R. Walker e-books – closes 27th November at 00:01 Sydney
Or the direct link to the rafflecopter is HERE
Good luck!!! <3
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One Day to Go for Exchange of Hearts
Blurb:
Eighteen-year-old Harrison Haddon has grown up alone. Surrounded by wealth, nannies, and material things, all he craves is the approval of his father. Sent away to the boarding school his father and grandfather attended, it’s assumed he will follow in their footsteps from Sydney’s prestigious Ivy League school straight into medical school.
But Harrison doesn’t want to be a doctor.
He dreams of music and classical piano. His only true happiness, his escape from the world expected of him, is dismissed by his intolerant and emotionally detached parents.
Levi Aston arrives from London for a three-month student exchange program. Free-spirited and confident in who he is and what he wants to do with his life, Levi convinces Harrison not give up on his dreams.
But convincing Harrison not to give up on his family might not be so easy.
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M/M Veterans Day Scavenger Hunt
Welcome to the MM Veterans Day Scavenger Hunt
Today I am hosting 2 Bibliophiles Guide
Welcome to Jenn and Lynde from 2 Bibliophiles Guide on my blog. Aussies don’t have Veterans Day so the first question I asked when we were discussing the blog – what is Veterans Day?
Over to Jenn and Lynde.
Veterans Day is a public holiday held on the anniversary of the end of World War I (November 11) to honor US veterans and victims of all wars.
When we decided to explain what Veterans Day meant to each of us, I was kinda stumped. I realize the two blogs being from different countries had completely different versions so I was excited to find out. I asked some blogger friends on Facebook what Veterans Day meant to them. I got the same response with little variation. It’s a day to Thank a Veteran. If you know American history you know we didn’t always treat our soldier with the respect they earned and the love they needed.
We have come a long way and I think each Veterans Day is a way for each of us to atone for the sins of the past. Our schools hold assemblies and Veterans are invited to attend. Its a small way to show respect. A lot of cities host arades, concerts and other events.
Overall the theme is THANKING a Veteran and never letting them forget we know what they sacrificed for each of us.Everyone I questioned agreed on one thing. Veterans Day should be an event 365 days of the year.
Rapid Fire Q&A
Jenn- Chocolate/Vanilla Chocolate Milk or White mmmm mmm
- Coke/Pepsi I will suffer through a Pepsi but love Coke
- Morning/Night Night
- Coffee/Tea Coffee all day/night
- Summer/Winter Um.. I live in Florida, we have one long summer lol
Lynde- Chocolate/Vanilla Chocolate
- Coke/Pepsi Pepsi
- Morning/Night Night
- Coffee/Tea Coffee
- Summer/Winter Summer
Follow the Scavenger Hunt for more chances to win!
11/11 – Jessie G Books, N.R. Walker, Talon P.S. & Princess S.O., Two Chicks Obsessed with Books and Eye Candy
11/12 – Ki Brightly, Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews, Sloan Johnson, Wickedly Innocent Promotions
11/13 – Aria Grace, Chris McHart, Sassy Girl Books, Gay Book Reviews
11/14 – Carly’s Book Reviews, Kai Tyler
11/15 – Lissa Kassey, Prism Book Alliance
11/16 – KathyMac Reviews, Stephen del Mar
11/17 – 2 Bibliophiles Guide, M.A. Church
11/18 – Charlie Cochet, Lexi Ander
11/19 – J.K. Hogan, Book Lovers 4Ever
11/20 – BFD Book Blog, Bike Book Reviews
11/21 – T. Strange, Book Lovers 4Ever
a Rafflecopter giveaway
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Retro Read: Blind Faith
The Blind Faith series has three books; Blind Faith, Through These Eyes and Blindside. The first in the series, Blind Faith, introduces us to Isaac Brannigan and Carter Reece, and Brady, of course.
BUY LINKS: Amazon
Blind Faith Series is now only available on Amazon and is part of the Kindle Unlimited program.
Blurb:
Starting a new job in a new town, veterinarian Carter Reece, makes a house call to a very special client.
Arrogant, moody and totally gorgeous, Isaac Brannigan has been blind since he was eight. After the death of his guide dog and best friend, Rosie, his partnership with his new guide dog, Brady, isn’t going well.
Carter tries to help both man and canine through this initiation phase, but just who is leading who?
Excerpt:
I always thought a person’s car was reflective of its owner, and as I opened the passenger door of the late ’80s Ford Taurus and got in, I smiled to myself. Like its owner, Dr Fields, it was gray in color and in impeccable condition. Not a scratch, not a dent, not a thing out of place. Polished, tidy, and clean. Family oriented, safety first. Just like its owner.
And although it still ran well, although it was still reliable, it was getting on in miles, years. Just like its owner.
Was my car reflective of me? As much as I wished otherwise—yeah, it was. A sturdy Jeep 4×4, a few dents and scratches. Not too old, and certainly not showroom-pretty by any means. More rugged, well-worn, sometimes fun, always practical. That’s me. Practical for my work as a vet, practical for me on days off to harness my dog in the backseat and head out of town. Nothing about my car strictly screamed “gay man” but nothing about me did either.
Unless you counted the small star decal on the rear bumper.
My best friend Mark had stuck it there before I’d left Hartford, Connecticut to start my new job in Boston. He’d known I’d bury myself in my work like I always did, limiting my chances of meeting anyone new. He had told me by having a star stuck on my rear bumper, it might increase the chances of some guy seeing the one tattooed on my hip. He’d said the star was more discreet than the “I’m gay. Wanna fuck?” decal he was going to put on my car. He thought it was hilarious. Mark always thought he was hilarious.
“What’s got you smiling?” Dr Fields asked.
I looked at the older man behind the steering wheel. “Oh, nothing,” I said dismissively. But I looked at him and smiled.
He smiled back at me. Then the older man asked, “How are you settling in? You enjoying it here?”
“Yes,” I answered him honestly. “Very much. I mean, it’s only been a week, but I love what I’ve seen so far.” And I did. My new job at East Weymouth Animal Hospital was quite the step up for me.
He smiled again, seemingly pleased with his decision to hire me.
He concentrated on driving for a moment, then he asked, “Did you do house calls in Hartford?”
I laughed. “Uh, no. I thought house calls were something doctors and vets did in small country towns for large animals.” Or in television shows, I thought errantly, but kept that to myself.
This time it was Dr Fields who laughed. “Well, there’s not many house calls left on my books these days. Just the families who’ve been coming to see me for years.”
And that’s where we were on our way to now. The animal hospital was in a nice part of town, and all house calls were close by. Our first visit was to a Mrs Yeo and her seventeen year old cat, Mr Whiskers. When we got there, I wasn’t surprised Mrs Yeo preferred house calls. She must have been near a hundred years old, all of four feet tall, with gray, wiry hair and skin like wrinkled paper.
“Don’t let her appearance fool you,” Dr Fields had warned me in the car. “She’s as sharp as a tack.”
So she was, but poor old Mr Whiskers wasn’t doing so well. He was slow and not too responsive as Dr Fields gently checked him over. He gave Mr Whiskers some more arthritis medication, but even Mrs Yeo had given a sad nod, acknowledging she knew the poor tabby’s days were numbered.
Against our insistence, Mrs Yeo had walked us out. Dr Fields had given her a reassuring pat on the arm, telling her if she needed anything to give him a call. As we got back into his car, Dr Fields sighed. “I don’t think poor Mr Whiskers will see the end of summer,” he said sadly. “Not sure how Mrs Yeo will cope without him. She got that cat for company after her husband died…” The older man’s words trailed away. He didn’t need to say any more. I understood.
It was easy to tell the older man loved his job. I’d only worked with him a week, but he knew every patient and owner by name, and he took his time with each of them. He knew their personal histories. He had an old-school work ethic, and I wondered how his pending retirement would fare on him.
I assumed he’d miss it as much as the hospital would miss him, and from my first week on the job, one thing was very clear—I had very big shoes to fill.
We drove in silence for a short while, and I watched the slow passing of houses through the passenger side window. The animal hospital was in Weymouth, South Boston, which was a nice neighborhood already, but the houses we were driving past were getting even nicer, the gardens and lawns well-tended.
Wanting to keep conversation going between us, I prompted the old man, “Next stop is the Brannigans.”
Dr Fields nodded. “Isaac Brannigan…” he said quietly with a shake of his head. “Sad story, but not really mine to tell. Hannah will be there. She’s his official caregiver,” he said rather cryptically.
I wondered what he meant by that when we pulled into a circular drive. The large, single story house sat proudly in the midst of manicured gardens. It spoke money.
Dr Fields pulled up at the front door, but before he got out of the car, he said, “Isaac’s having some adjustment issues with his new dog, Brady. He’s a little…” he searched for the right word, “…insistent, but I guess he’s got his reasons.”
Before I could ask if he was referring to the dog or its owner, the older man got out of the car. I followed suit, grabbed the bag off the backseat and followed him to the front door.
A woman answered the door and smiled warmly as soon as she saw Dr Fields, standing aside to welcome us in. She looked around thirty years old—just a few years older than me—and had brown, curly hair, pale skin, and a wide, kind smile.
“Hannah,” Dr Fields introduced us, “this is Dr Carter Reece. Carter, this is Hannah Brannigan.”
I extended my hand, which she shook. “Very nice to meet you.”
She was still smiling. “Does Max have you doing the rounds with him?”
She called him by his given name, so I quickly deduced she knew him well. Before I could answer, Dr Fields answered for me. “Dr Carter will be taking my place at the hospital.”
“Oh,” she said quietly, looking from me to the old man. “You’re retiring?” she asked, and Dr Fields nodded. “Isaac never mentioned it…”
“He doesn’t know,” Dr Fields told her quietly. “I was going to tell him today.”
Just then, a man no older than me walked into the foyer. He was dressed as though he’d just stepped off a yacht. Khaki shorts, white polo t-shirt, expensive leather boat shoes and small, dark, designer sunglasses worth what I earned in a month. He was fit looking, matched my five foot ten height and had short, spiky dark brown hair and pale skin. He was gorgeous.
He smiled. “Tell me what?”
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