A Barb the Zany Old Lady Prerelease Review: Spectred Isle (Green Men #1) by K.J. Charles

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Rating: 4.5 stars out of 5

After the war (WWI) archeologist Saul Lazenby returned home in disgrace when his affair with another man led to charges of treason when some of the innocent remarks he made to his lover were pieced together to cause a disaster for Saul’s fellow soldiers.  After serving his time, he’s lucky anyone is willing to hire him.  His parents have disowned him and he’s found a job with a nice, but clueless and bumbling major who is convinced he can find the location where the body of Geoffrey de Mandeville has been buried. 

Legend says that deMandeville lived as an outlaw, was excommunicated, and was buried alive by the Knights Templar, and his ghost now watches over London and Camlet Moat, where his house was located, in the heart of the city. There is a well in Camelet Moat to which all kinds of legends are attached, including of course, buried treasure, or possibly deMandeville himself. 

All of the arcane activity that has recently increased in the area seems to point to a tear in the veil with deMandeville somehow involved.  The Green Men, principally Randolph Glyde are the only arcanists still remaining who have any chance at all of defeating those from beyond. Glyde is the last of twenty-three generations of arcanists, the most powerful of the families, and may be the only hope of saving mankind.

When both Saul and Randolph keep showing up at the same time in the same place, it’s pretty obvious that one of them is involved in some way with the bizarre, unexplainable things that have been happening recently—things like a tree suddenly combusting before their eyes.  But it’s not until they end up trapped on a spiritual plane together, and Randolph needs to use his arcane abilities to get them out of the trap, that the two realize there’s more than magic between them. 

I can’t begin to do justice to this highly complex and imaginative otherworldly mystery created by the inimitable KJ Charles in early 20th century England.  Her stories are such a fine mix of reality and imagination, they always astound me, and most definitely, always entertain me.  This is the beginning of a new series and it packs a powerful punch! 

Saul is the kind of guy you want to take home and wrap up in arms of love.  Emotionally damaged by circumstances beyond his control, living in poverty, and barely able to earn enough to keep food on the table, his once highly promising career in archeology is lost. He’s now reduced to being front man for a bumbling major on a quest to prove his crazy ideas are based in reality. 

Randolph is from an old, proud family, rich in the heritage of arcane abilities, and responsibility was literally driven into him from childhood.  He takes everything seriously, including his promise to keep Saul safe.  When his cousin Theresa comes back from the dead to impart her knowledge to Saul in Camlet Moat, and Saul agrees to become the Walker of the Moat, the future of the two men is sealed in fate.  That Saul readily accepts everything about Randolph and his abilities, and that they are developing strong feelings of love for one another is a bonus.

If you enjoy tales of the spirit realm, witchcraft, or other inexplicable mysterious happenings, you will likely enjoy this tale. Add in a romance between two men who can’t believe their good fortune to find a possible life partner during a time in history when it seemed virtually impossible, and you’ve got a great story to look forward to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cover by Lexiconic Design features a lone man in 1920’s attire, smoking a cigar while leaning against a temple or church wall. It’s probably Randolph and fits the story, but the subdued tones aren’t very attention-getting.

Sales Links

Book Details:

ebook, 271 pages
Expected publication: August 3rd 2017 by KJC Books
ISBN139780995799073
Edition LanguageEnglish
SeriesGreen Men #1

A Stella Review: Spun! (The Shamwell Tales #4) by J.L. Merrow

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RATING 5 out of 5 stars

With friends like these . . .

An ill-advised encounter at the office party leaves David Greenlake jobless and homeless in one heady weekend. But he quickly begs work from his ex-boss and takes a room in Shamwell with easygoing postman Rory Deamer. David doesn’t mean to flirt with the recently divorced Rory—just like he doesn’t consciously decide to breathe. After all, Rory’s far too nice for him. And far too straight.

Rory finds his new lodger surprisingly fun to be with, and what’s more, David is a hit with Rory’s troubled children. But while Rory’s world may have turned upside down in the last few years, there’s one thing he’s sure of: he’s straight as a die. So he can’t be falling for David . . . can he?

Their friends and family think they know all the answers, and David’s office party hookup has his own plans for romance. Rory and David need to make up their minds and take a stand for what they really want—or their love could be over before it’s even begun.

Another amazing book from JL Merrow! I can always count on this author writing, I have to say it was some time I didn’t open one of her books, so it took me awhile to get into her humor and British words, but when I did, it was a so lovely pleasure to read Spun! and I found myself again in the beautiful village of Shamwell.

In this new installment in the Tales of Shamwell series it was finally time for David to have his HEA, remember when we met him  in Out!? David is still the same, still flamboyant, still flirting with everyone. But he is in need of a new job and a place to live. Thanks to his friend Mark, he will find both of them, the first in helping Mark with his new business, the second in Rory.

Rory is a friend of Mark, he’s straight, divorced with two children and in need of some cash. Here comes the idea of renting a room, but he isn’t ready for the tornado David is. And for the feelings they will develop for each other till they will create a family.

As always the author created great characters, I’m a sucker for stories with children in them, the ones well done, and here the relationship between Rory and his children was real and believable, as the way David was able to create a connection with the two little pests, especially with the quiet Leo. I loved how they fell almost easily into each other lives and became the family all of them were looking for.

Spun! was so cute and well done it was impossible to not like all its characters, most of all because it has all the elements I often look for in a story: slow burn, divorced MC, age gap, children. Mix all these with the British humor and JL Merrow writing, what more could I request?

Highly recommended.

The cover art by Natasha Snow follows the style of the series’ covers, I like it.

Sales Links:  Riptide Publishing | Amazon

BOOK DETAILS

ebook, 316 pages

Published July 3rd 2017 by Riptide Publishing

ISBN 1626495882 (ISBN13: 9781626495883)

Edition Language English

Series The Shamwell Tales #4

An Alisa Review: Man Candy (Candy #1) by Amanda Young

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Rating:  3 stars out of 5

 

Aaron Samuels has a dirty little secret. He’s in love with his boss. Logan is everything Aaron wants in a man, except he’s straight…and married.

 

College student, Aaron Samuels is in love with his boss. After four long years of working under his boss in every conceivable position except the ones heating up his dreams, Aaron is ready to give up and move on to greener pastures.

 

A promising job offer right after graduation seems like fate’s way of kicking him in the ass. He turns in his notice at work with a heavy heart, though he knows he made the right decision. After all, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life mooning over an unavailable man.

 

A torrid, late night tryst with a man Aaron believes to be Logan’s twin propels him into an emotional tailspin of guilt and confusion. Tough choices loom on the horizon, but he may find that things aren’t always as they seem.

 

This was a nice story.  Aaron has essentially been torturing himself being close to Aaron every day while dreaming about him and feeling depressed about his situation.  He takes the opportunity to use his new college degree and to get a new job and hopefully move on with his life.  He continues to laugh off Logan’s twin brother, Jake’s, flirting and Logan’s reaction to it.

 

This story was told from Aaron’s point of view and it was easy to feel his heartbreak and hurt from Logan’s actions.  Unfortunately I couldn’t help but think that if Logan was more open and truthful about his personal life they both could have started out much better.  I am definitely interested to see what happens with Jake, in the next story.

 

The cover art by Amanda Young is a nice romance cover and caught my eye.

 

Sales Link: Amazon

 

Book Details:

ebook, 82 pages

Published: 2nd Edition, July 5, 2017 by Amanda Young

Edition Language: English

Series: Candy Men #1

RELEASE BLITZ: Roaring Waters (The Warfield Hotel Mysteries #3) by CJ Baty

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Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK
 
Length: 194 pages
 
The Warfield Hotel Mysteries Series
 
Drifting Sands (Book #1) – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Crashing Waves (Book #2) – Amazon US | Amazon UK
 
Blurb
 

Damien Fitzgerald has lived through hell and is determined to never let anyone get close to him again. A fervent reporter, he throws his life into his work and doesn’t care whose toes he steps on. But someone else does. He’s got a stalker, and the messages are growing increasingly threatening. He turns to his best friend, Justin Warfield and his lover, Private Investigator Marcus Drummond. Seems like a good idea until Robert Wyler becomes part of the package.


Robert Wyler, the manager of the bar at the Warfield Inn, has always been misunderstood. Sure he takes care of his body, wears his hair long and likes tatts, but that doesn’t mean he’s domineering. A cold exterior hides the more passionate man inside. Men like Damien Fitzgerald get on his nerves. Too good looking. Too arrogant. But when Justin and Marcus needed his help to guard the man from a stalker, Robert couldn’t say no.


Damien and Robert have a history. Whenever they are near each other sparks fly. Can Damien and Robert get past their prejudices to find the real men hiding underneath. Will they find love before the stalker gets to Damien and their chance at happiness is destroyed forever…

Author Bio

C. J. Baty lives in southwest Ohio. Her heart, however, lives in the mountains of Tennessee where she hopes to retire some day. The mountains have always provided her with inspiration and a soothing balm to the stresses of everyday life.


The dream of writing her own stories started in high school but was left on the back burner of life until her son introduced her to fan fiction and encouraged her to give it a try. She found that her passion for telling a story was still there and writing them down to share with others was much more thrilling than she had ever expected.

She has a loving and supportive family who don’t mind fixing their own meals when she is in the middle of a story, and a network of friends who have encouraged and cheered her on in her quest of being an author.


One thing she has learned from life and she is often heard to say is: “You are never too old to follow your dream!”

 

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Release Tour for Losing My Religion by AS Tucker (excerpt and giveaway)

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Title: Losing My Religion
Author: A.S. Tucker
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: July 27, 2017
Jaden Barker is a good boy.

For as long as he can remember, he’s been preparing for the day he’ll be called as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. He’s ready. He’s more than willing. And he can’t wait to spend the next two years serving the Lord and his church. But when a new proclamation from the church is announced, it leaves him questioning everything.

Quinn Owens is trouble with a capital T.

An aspiring actor living in the bowels of Los Angeles, he’s fought long and hard to get where he is, and he’s not willing to give it up for anything. Working for a homophobic boss presents quite a challenge when you’re a gay man, but Quinn knows losing this job means losing his dream. 

Jaden is lost and confused.

Quinn won’t let anything stand in his way.

But when Jaden finds himself living downstairs from the enticing Quinn, neither are prepared for what happens next.

Will Jaden be able to resist Quinn’s charms and remain a devoted Mormon missionary? Or will he fall, finding himself face to face with losing his religion?

 

5 Stars from Millsy Loves Books – “I loved this read with passion i’ll be honest i really wasn’t expecting it to effect me as much as it did. The words the story the emotions weather good or bad left me not being able to put this book down. I would highly recommend this read.”

 


 

5 Stars from Konny on Goodreads – “Losing My Religion is an intense emotional read. I give 5 stars, thank you AS Tucker!”

5 Stars from Amo & Sarah’s Book Corner – “A very different love story, that is beautifully written.”

 

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As I step into the room, I drop my suitcase on the floor, my duffel bag sliding off my shoulder and falling on top of it. Six bunk beds are crowded into the tiny space, each bed made neatly with a thin comforter stretched tautly across the mattress. It reminds of the dorm rooms I’ve seen in movies and TV shows throughout the years. Except, instead of posters of half-naked women and sports stars adorning the walls, there are pictures of Jesus Christ. Instead of math books and dirty laundry strewed about, there are scriptures and pamphlets about the church.

So, yeah, it’s just like a dorm room—if the dorm room were in a parallel universe where teenage boys read the Bible and The Book of Mormon instead of play video games and drink beer.

Welcome to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.
Elder Scott, the leader of the district I’ve been assigned to, points to the bottom bunk on the left side of the room, indicating I should put my stuff there. All the missionaries in this district of the MTC are going to be serving in the California Los Angeles mission or somewhere in the vicinity. We’re split by the area we’ll be serving in, by the language we’ll be speaking, and, of course, by sex. The sister missionaries are housed in a separate part of the MTC with clear guidelines of what will happen if those borders are breached after hours.

I pick up my bag and toss it onto the bed before leaning over to grab my heavier suitcase with both hands. Elder Scott bends over to help, and together, we lift the monstrosity onto the bunk.

“You can hang your suits in the closet,” he says, pointing to a tiny accordion door next to the beds on the right. “Each of you has one drawer in the dresser. Yours will be one up from the bottom. Go ahead and get your things unpacked. I’m going to head to Elder Burke’s class and see if I can borrow Elder Daniels. He’ll be your companion while you’re here.”

Without another word, Elder Scott turns and exits the room, leaving me in the silent, foreign room by myself. An all-too recognizable pang fills my chest as I look around, and once again, I’m left wondering if I’ve made the right choice.

It’s just nerves, my inner Jiminy reminds me, trying to soothe my budding panic.

Or it’s the fact that you’re a total fraud, and you have no business being here, his less than delightful counterpart retorts.

I shake my head as I sit down on the edge of the bed, grateful for the moment alone. It might be the last one I get for the next two years. Once your companion is assigned, the two of you stick together like the pages of a dirty magazine.

I chuckle softly at my poor attempt at a joke, but then guilt immediately sets in at the thought, considering my surroundings. I can almost feel Jesus’s disapproving eyes boring into me. So, instead of lifting my head to meet his gaze, I unzip my suitcase and begin to unpack my things.


A military brat growing up, A.S. Tucker now resides in Utah with her loving husband. When not writing, you’ll find her reading, binge watching Netflix, or drinking wine. Her three favorite things are animals, coffee, and Harry Potter, not necessarily in that order. She is the author of three other novels, published under a different pen name. She loves hearing from her readers, so please drop her a line!

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Release Blitz for Peep Show (A London Lads Story) by Clare London (excerpt and giveaway)

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Length: 16,000 words
 
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
 
Blurb
 

Ever wanted to spy secretly on other people’s lives?


Ken doesn’t have a choice: his student summer job is manning the CCTV screens for the new central London shopping mall. But instead of spotting criminals or vandals, he becomes fascinated by a cute waiter from the local bistro who sneaks out to the backyard for his break—and plays sexy to the camera.


Is he an old friend, or just an anonymous exhibitionist? Should Ken be excited by this naughty peepshow, or will people think he’s a voyeuristic pervert? Poor Ken’s confused and thrilled in turn. It’s like living in one of the movies he’s studying at university. He knows the man can’t see him, yet Ken feels a connection of some kind. It all encourages Ken to continue with his guilt-ridden Waiter Watch.


Ken bears the suspense as long as he can, until a chance meeting and an abortive blind date provide the explanation to the secret assignations. But will this guide Ken to a real-life chance of romance?


First Edition published by Amber Quill Press/Amber Allure, 2013.

Excerpt


Ken had to admit he hated his job. With a passion. Or rather, with a slow-burning boredom and distaste. Passion implied some kind of energy—the agony and the ecstasy!—and Ken had none of that left after another night sitting in the small, stuffy room and gazing at a wall of screens.


He leaned back in his hard-backed chair, stretched, and yawned. A glance at the clock confirmed it was a good hour until his official break time, when the steroid-enhanced Tomas would reluctantly pause in strutting his security patrol around the shopping centre, and arrive to cover Ken’s post while he went for coffee and a sandwich. Then another two hours until the end of the shift at 2:00 a.m., when old Charlie would shuffle in for duty, complete with his tatty Aran cardigan, his Maeve Binchy paperback, and an oversized thermos of homemade vegetable soup, to take over from Ken until the offices opened.


Ken sighed. What a way to spend a Saturday night—or any night, for that matter.


Over three hours to go.


Over three hours….


He yawned again. The screens flickered and settled into a range of views from another angle. There was a bank of them, covering critical points around the shopping centre, and they were manned 24/7. Ken was one of those “manning” people. He was meant to watch the screens closely at all times. The centre was a small one, in Surbiton on the outskirts of London, and couldn’t compete with the massive retail complexes built off the M25 in Essex or central London’s Oxford Street. It was really just a dozen shops hanging out together under the same roof. But these were high-fashion, prestigious-designer stores, full of valuable goods and constantly at threat from thieves, vandals, and general abusers. Or so Ken’s summer-job employers, Safeguard Assured, would have people believe.


Ken thought it wouldn’t be so bad if he actually saw something. Look out, it’s beHIND you! He knew it was ludicrous to wish for theft, destruction, or general abuse—whatever that covered—but he’d been working here for over a month now, and he’d seen nothing untoward. Nothing at all. No fights, no malicious damage to the shops or the building, no tanks ramming through the night-time shutters, no intercontinental ballistic missiles shrieking in from the dark night skies above—only twenty-four hours left to protect historic London!—to destroy everything the population held dear….


Okay, so his mind was rambling again. His mum always said he had a vivid imagination. He’d chosen well when he took a media and film studies course at Kingston University, because he’d always spent far too much time imagining book and movie quotes around real-life events. Of course, Mum’s respect wasn’t always matched by the rest of the family—Dad said Ken lived in a fantasy world, and his teenage brother, Joe, said he was just a sad bloke. Ken sighed again. He knew he was pretty safe here in the control room—except, of course, from the intercontinental ballistic missile scenario—because he wasn’t expected to leap into personal action if he saw any crime taking place. There’d never been any training session for that, just a brief run-through of the screens and the logging in and out procedures, and a schedule of the night-time shifts. He’d been given a list of contact numbers if he needed help. From the way his boss had wrinkled his nose at that, Ken knew it wouldn’t be welcome if he called up his boss at a quarter to midnight to ask where the milk was for his tea. I’m sorry, caller, there’s no record of that number…. No, the contact numbers were for the duty security guards like Tomas, and also an emergency number to the local police station. That was if something went seriously wrong.


Which it never did.


No, of course he wasn’t inviting that missile again. But Ken hadn’t seen any action so far except people coming and going at the takeaways and late-night restaurants, which stayed open until the early hours of the morning. He swung aimlessly back and forth on his chair and opened another packet of cheesy snacks. He could feel the coating sticking to his teeth, but at least chewing it off helped to keep him awake. The Lord of the Rings paperback—three books in one, special offer!—had been last week’s additional incentive, but the boxed set of assorted crime thrillers he’d borrowed from Mum this week—murder, intrigue, and suspense from some of Britain’s finest!—hadn’t worked as effectively. Screen-watchers weren’t meant to spend their time with their head in a book—how would they see the incoming missile?—but it was about the only way to keep the boredom at bay.


“You should knit,” his mate Simon had suggested. Simon knitted, but not lumpy long scarves or hideously misshapen Christmas gloves like Ken’s gran. Si created cool beanie hats and cotton gilets and wonderful album cover designs on sweaters. He was studying textile design at the same university, with fellow students far more arty than Ken’s peers, judging by their clothing and the bold interior design of their rooms. Ken had tried knitting a hat once—you shouldn’t knock it until you’ve tried it, right?—and Mum was still using it as a tea cosy. She said the gaps down the side gave the steam somewhere to go. Ken hadn’t battled with knitting needles again—he was happier with a storyboard. Yet where had his first year of film studies taken him? Watching rain fall on the concrete pavement outside a shopping centre for hours at a time. There was irony there, somewhere.


He’d tried plenty of things to help pass the time. He played solitaire until he found himself almost homicidal when a three of clubs refused to reveal itself. The book of crosswords had been abandoned at page nine, after he’d expressed his frustration by inserting every obscene word he could think of, whether they fit the grid or not. And his songwriting attempts had never got any further than I woke up this morning before he started salivating for bacon sandwiches and brown sauce. He’d tried sketching out a storyboard for a film project of his own but, unfortunately, Charlie had caught sight of it one night, and now he kept suggesting Ken should remake a couple of Maeve Binchy’s classic stories. Charlie even suggested casting and the songs for the soundtrack. Much as he liked the old codger, Ken now found it less teeth-grinding to keep that work for the privacy of his own room. So he was back to nothing but the screens for distraction.


There was a small yard at the back of one of the restaurants where the waiters came out to smoke. It was plumb in the middle of Ken’s central screen. This one was a French bistro, which meant the prices were too high for his student pocket. Spare a coin for a sandwich, sir? He didn’t have sound as well as a view, but he watched the way the waiting staff nodded to each other, laughed, shared matches for the ciggies. There wasn’t much space to move around in the yard, because the wall between the restaurant and the next-door dry cleaners was covered almost entirely with huge, shoulder-high recycling and waste bins. The waiters leaned against the bins or scuffed their shoes on them. Sometimes the chef opened the door from the restaurant and yelled at them to get their arses back to work. Well, Ken couldn’t actually hear the words, but the chef’s face looked flushed and impatient—even in grainy black-and-white—and Ken’s imagination supplied the language. Although the waiters rolled their eyes and mimicked his gestures as soon as he turned his back, they usually stubbed out the cigarettes quickly and shuffled back indoors.


Sometimes Ken saw them leaving at the end of their shift from a gate at the farthest point of the yard. It was a shortcut back to the housing estate across the ring road. He had to imagine the gate, because it was out of view of the camera, but the waiters would tumble out of the back door with their coats on and backpacks slung over their shoulders, waving and joking with the new shift who were taking over. The place did breakfasts too. Didn’t it ever close?


He’d noticed a group of friends who seemed to work and travel everywhere together—a cluster of students like him, presumably, all dressed in similar hoodies and jeans; two men who were obviously a romantic couple; a mother and daughter who still had a smile for each other after a long night in the kitchen.


Ken grimaced. So it had come to this—he was getting familiar with the monochrome faces of people he’d never meet in real life, probably didn’t want to meet, and who probably wouldn’t want to meet him. He didn’t think of them as friends, did he? That’s what his other good mate Robbie said when Ken shared some of his stories at the pub. “You’re not mates with these people, Kenny. That’d be bloody weird.” Everyone around the table agreed with Robbie. In fact, Ken laughed and agreed too.


Because that’s not how it was. He preferred to consider the people caught on CCTV as his own private soap opera. Previously, on the Surbiton Spectrum Shopping Centre Security Channel…. The waiters at the restaurant. The foxes that came sniffing around the bins, arrogantly careless of anyone else. The police cars that periodically cruised the front of the centre. The fat man who ran the all-night grocer/newsagents, who took a break every now and then, drained a bottle of cola, and had a thorough scratch of his crotch through trousers shiny with wear. The young couple who stocked up the Moroccan café at weekends and who loitered in the service road behind the shop for a snogging session. The boy would have taken it further; Ken could see his eagerness—and bloody quick hands—but the girl was always looking over her shoulder in case someone caught them.


Yes, even outside shopping hours, there was a lot of activity in and around the centre. It wasn’t really what Ken was employed to watch out for, but he reckoned he could weave it into his film projects; he could let it inspire him. Everyone enjoyed people-watching, didn’t they? And his personal soap opera was benign. It wasn’t full of cliché gun battles or car chases. Only sometimes did he feel like a voyeur, but without the sexiness.


A waiter ambled out of the French bistro, and Ken’s attention darted back to that screen. The young man moved quickly—maybe he only had a few minutes’ break—and made for the far side of the yard. That corner was partially hidden by two of the largest bins and out of reach of the security lights. The only CCTV screen that covered it was one of the oldest and with the poorest picture. Sometimes one of the waiting staff would sneak behind these particular bins, and Ken assumed it was because they didn’t want to be seen, either by CCTV or from inside the restaurant. Was that what this man was doing? He had his back to Ken, hiding what he was up to. Was he smoking? Taking drugs? Ken had seen it on other evenings. Was he meant to report that kind of thing, or just crimes that involved damage to the centre itself? And how hypocritical would he be, when he’d smoked more than a few things in his time?


He peered more closely and wished there was a zoom feature. He didn’t like to touch the controls too much, since the time he’d fiddled with the brightness, messed up screens one to four, and spent three hours looking at static—I’m breaking up! I’m breaking up!—until Charlie arrived. The old man had shrugged at Ken’s apology, turned the control button to its fullest point, thumped somewhere under the desk, and the screens had all popped back into focus. Luckily, of course, the missile hadn’t arrived at that very time, though Ken rather thought there’d be other clues if the building were attacked from space.


The man in the yard turned his head, and Ken caught sight of his shadowed profile. He wasn’t smoking; he was sucking juice from a carton. A new employee? Ken didn’t think he’d noticed him before. Tall, lithe body in tight black trousers and a white shirt that stretched taut over his pecs, short-cropped dark hair, prominent but attractive nose. Ken couldn’t see his eyes because he was looking down at the carton, but the heavy lids were sexy. Even though the picture was blurred, Ken could tell that clearly enough. And the way the man’s lips tightened on the carton straw was…. Be still, my beating heart. Ken laughed at himself a little bitterly. His poor old dick hadn’t hardened that quickly for a long time. He shifted on the seat, trying to get comfortable again. He really needed to get back out in the dating game again. Oh wait, first he had to find the time to date, didn’t he? But if and when he did, this was just the kind of look he’d always liked, ever since school days, however shallow Mum would say it was to judge a book by its cover alone….


And then the guy turned towards the camera so that one side of his face eased out of the shadows—and he winked.


Huh? Ken leaned forwards in his chair, startled, but the moment was gone. The waiter turned on his heel, threw his empty carton into the bin, and sauntered back inside the restaurant.


 

Author Bio

Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with the weekly wash, waiting for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.


Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.


All the details and free fiction are available at her website. Visit her today and say hello!



Website: http://www.clarelondon.com
Blog: http://clarelondon.livejournal.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/clarelondon
Facebook chat: https://www.facebook.com/groups/clarelondoncalling/
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/clare_london
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/clarelondon
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/clarelondon

 

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