Monday, 21 March 2016

INFERNO release date

Pleased to announce the re-release of Inferno, my m/m crime romance novel has been set for Saturday 16 April, with pre-order beginning 22 March at Smashwords and their distributors and Amazon. (All Romance e-books will be available from 16 April as they don't have a pre-order setting).

Also tomorrow, 22 March, I will reveal the cover on this blog, my website and social media. Stay tuned!

Wednesday, 13 January 2016

All Cocks, No Bull Blog Hop - win an e-book

All Cocks, No Bull Blog Hop

Welcome to the All Cocks no Bull Blog Hop, an exclusive for m/m writers and readers. Whether you are a fan of the genre, or new to reading about men who love men, then I'm sure you'll enjoy what our writers have to offer for you.
Below you will find links to other authors who will give you a little taste of what they do, and offer you a chance to enter a draw for a giveaway. 
For this blog hop I'm offering up an excerpt from a WIP with the draw for the free e-book below.

INNOCENT tells the story of Ethan, a man who forces himself into Gabriel's home one day, with electric consequences...

Gabriel Black cursed as the toaster coughed up two slices of blackened bread and the smoke alarm immediately kicked in with an ear-piercing shriek. He moved to the French windows, unlocking and drawing them open, letting in a burst of freezing night air, before grabbing a dish towel and wafting it under the smoke alarm. As he did, a flash of movement registered at the periphery of his vision.
He turned around in surprise just as a tall figure sidled through the windows, levelling a gun at him.
His mouth dropped open, icy fingers creeping down his back and not from the cold air either. The intruder in his house was in his late thirties, a few inches bigger than Gabriel and well-built. He wore a thin shirt and jeans, despite the weather outside being at least ten below. He was covered with snow. It was on his boots and in the jet-black hair that fell untidily over his face. Large, jade-green eyes and a sensual mouth dominated his pale, startlingly attractive face. He had a few days’ worth of dark stubble lining his jaw and his nose and lips were blue with cold. The man trembled violently, his teeth chattering together.
“Knock that off.” He gestured to the annoying smoke alarm.
Gabriel, numb with shock, did as he was told, wafting the towel again until the alarm went off abruptly, leaving a sudden silence broken only by the sound of the intruder slamming the windows shut and pocketing the key.
The two men faced each other across the kitchen. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” They were brave words considering the nut job in Gabriel’s house held a gun.
The man moved closer, his face stony. “You don’t get to ask questions.” It was a sneer. “Upstairs now. I want some dry clothes.” He prodded Gabriel hard with the gun in his chest to make his point.
Gabriel turned around and walked woodenly through the living room to the stairs. His mind whirled as he climbed. He was miles from civilization, stuck in the middle of Alaska at his winter retreat. Who exactly was this man and was he going to kill him?
He entered his bedroom and turned around to look at the man, who gestured at the wardrobe. “Come on. Get me pants and the thickest sweater you’ve got.”
Gabriel did as he was told, choosing jeans and a hooded fleece-lined sweater that he wore when he needed to chop logs for the fire.
“And underwear and socks,” the intruder said. “I’m wet through.”
Gabriel got out the items from a chest of drawers. He was damned if he was going to give away his best boxers, so he gave the intruder some old ones. The man didn’t comment, just indicated for Gabriel to place the lot on the bed.
“Turn around while I change. Don’t even think of trying anything because I swear I will shoot you in the head before you can move.”
On legs of rubber, Gabriel did as he was told. He heard the man kicking off his boots, a zip sliding down, the rustle of denim. He waited for the man to dress.
“Back downstairs,” said his unwelcome guest at last. “I need a hot drink.”
Gabriel turned around. The stranger looked different in Gabriel’s own clothes, softer and less intimidating, even though the expression on his face was still hostile.
When Gabriel did not immediately comply, he pointed the gun at him once more. “Move!”
Gabriel reluctantly led the way back downstairs and into the kitchen. “What do you want? Coffee?”
Gabriel reached for a mug and picked up the coffee pot. For a moment he looked at the freshly brewed liquid inside thoughtfully. Could he throw boiling hot liquid over another human being? Yes, if that man was going to kill him. But just how big a threat was this man who had invaded his house?
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” snarled the intruder. “Get over here now, pretty boy.”
Gabriel glared at him, approaching the man so they stood eye-to-eye, staring each other down. Gabriel heard the jangle of metal in the man’s hand a split second before the stranger grabbed his wrist and locked a handcuff around it. Gun in his face once more, the man shoved him back into the radiator and down to the floor.
His guest locked the cuffs around the pipe.
The man smirked mirthlessly, showing perfect white teeth, and headed off towards the coffee machine, filling his cup. The radiator was red-hot. Gabriel tried to sit as far away from it as he could. “You going to tell me what you want?”
The stranger glanced at him, placing his gun behind him on the counter. “What I want is a meal, a shower, and a warm bed.” His gaze raked Gabriel’s body so thoroughly that he was left unsettled. “As for the rest, we’ll see how it goes.” Their eyes held for a long moment. Gabriel had no idea what the guy meant by this but a shudder snaked through him nonetheless. Damn it, the man was hot as holy hell. Did he imagine it or could he see vague interest in those intense green eyes? Surely not.
The man pulled some milk from the fridge and splashed it into his coffee. He leaned against the work surface eyeing Gabriel. “What are you doing all the way out here alone anyway? Are you some sort of hermit?”
Gabriel returned his steely glare. “I come here once a year.”
“What for?”
“To write.”
“You’re a writer?”
“That’s generally what writers do.”
The intruder’s expression turned dangerous. The air crackled with fury. “I’m warning you.”
Gabriel said nothing.
“What’s your name?”
“And how long are you here, Gabriel?”
“Maybe two months. I’ve been here a couple of weeks already.”
“You’re alone?”
“Have you got a cell?”
Gabriel hesitated. “No.”
“Liar.” The man advanced on him.
Gabriel tried to get to his feet as the man loomed over him. He grabbed at Gabriel’s pockets, patting them down. The man bent over him, startlingly close, hands on the tight denim of one hip and Gabriel stared up, thrown by how attractive he found the man with that pale skin and those luminescent eyes.
The man seemed oblivious to the way Gabriel studied him. He reached behind Gabriel, an arm around him to pat his ass. Gabriel felt the heat and solidity of his body for a moment. It made him shiver.
The intruder located the cell in Gabriel’s back pocket instantly. He drew away with his prize in his hand and went back to his coffee. Defeated, Gabriel sat back down, head hanging.
“How many people know you’re here?”
“A few,” Gabriel muttered.
“David, my agent. My friend Jordan and my partner, Jack.”
The man lifted an eyebrow, looking interested. “Jack,” he said as though trying out the name on his tongue. “You’re gay.”
Gabriel glared at him. “You need to take what you want and get the fuck out of my house.”
Sudden fury ignited in the stranger.  He stalked towards Gabriel and grabbed him by his short hair, yanking his head back. Gabriel gave a little hiss of pain.
“And you need to shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in you.”
Their faces were close, the gun against Gabriel’s neck. The man perused the depths of Gabriel’s eyes as though trying to read his mind. His pupils were dilated, despite the bright lights in the kitchen. The air suddenly seemed thin and Gabriel couldn’t breathe.
The interloper let go. “So how often do these three people contact you?”
“David will call sporadically,” Gabriel said, his tone sullen. “He usually waits for me to call him. He knows I don’t like to be disturbed. Jordan will call maybe once a week and Jack calls every day.”
“Has he called you today?”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said.
“Good. What do you have to eat?”
“Look for yourself.”
The man shot him a poisonous look and yanked open the fridge door. He searched for a moment before pulling out a dish of leftovers from the day before. “What’s this?”
“Casserole,” Gabriel said.
The man shoved it into the microwave, twisting the dial around to two minutes. He turned back to Gabriel, arms folded across his chest. Gabriel couldn’t help but notice that his clothes looked way better on the intruder than they had ever looked on him. The jeans moulded themselves snugly to strong thighs and the sweater was just short enough to reveal the ample bulge in the denim. Gabriel swallowed, again uncomfortable with the sudden heat that rushed through him that was nothing to do with his proximity to the radiator.
“Who are you?” His ass was beginning to ache from sitting on the kitchen floor.
The man regarded him stonily for a moment, as though debating just what to tell Gabriel. “Ethan,” he said.
“Are you some sort of escaped prisoner?”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. A heartbeat of silence hovered between them. “You ask way too many questions.”
“When are you leaving?”
“What did I just say?” Ethan glared at him. “Seeing as I’m the one with the gun, I’ll stay as long as I goddamn want, thanks.”
Gabriel regarded him with undisguised hostility. The man’s face had lost that blue tinge, but he noticed the intruder still shivered as though unable to get warm. He felt a pang of pity and berated himself furiously. What the hell? This man has come into your home armed, stealing your clothes and food and no doubt your bed tonight and what? You want to give him a cuddle to warm him up? Sometimes Gabriel was way too soft for his own good.
Ethan turned his attention to the microwave as it pinged. He opened the door and removed the meal, stirring it with a fork before lifting it gingerly to his mouth.
Gabriel watched. An odd sensation went through him as the intruder’s tongue licked the fork delicately. Christ, what was wrong with him? There was no denying he and Jack had been on the rocks when he left and it had been weeks since they had been intimate, but he was starting to be way too attracted to this bully who had forced himself into Gabriel’s house. He cursed himself and his dick. This man could shoot you dead at any minute and you’re looking at his tongue and thinking what it would be like around your cock?
Ethan took his dish to the table and pulled out a chair. He ate a couple of mouthfuls and then looked at Gabriel. “You make this yourself?”
“It’s good. I thought you would be a shit cook when I saw your attempt at the toast.” He gestured to the charred bread still lodged in the toaster. “So are you a famous writer, Gabriel?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Not really. I sell enough to get by.”
“What sort of stuff do you write?”
“Really?” The expression on Ethan’s face switched to reluctant admiration. “Always been a bit of a fan of that myself.”
Gabriel gave a hesitant smile. Perhaps he could thaw the ice man by talking about his books.
Ethan chewed another mouthful. “How long have you been with your partner?”
“Two years.”
“Two years,” Ethan said in contemplation. “That must be one sore ass you have. You do take, right? I imagine that you do.”
Gabriel stared at him. His face burned. He had not been subject to such abuse since school. “My private life is none of your business.”
Ethan shrugged. “Just making conversation,” he said with his mouth full. He held Gabriel’s gaze confrontationally.
Gabriel looked away, his mouth bitter with rage. Had he really thought this odious man was attractive? He wanted to overpower him, beat him senseless and throw him out into the snow to die. Nothing would give him greater pleasure. He sat by the radiator quietly seething until Ethan finished eating and stood up.
“I’m going to shower. Behave yourself.”
Gabriel waited with his heart pounding. He listened to Ethan’s footsteps on the stairs and then he tried impossibly to yank his wrist from the cuff, only succeeding in chafing the skin raw. He tugged hard at the pipe, trying to wrench it from the floor to no avail. He sat back in impotent fury thinking of all the things he’d love to do to the pretty little bastard who’d come unannounced into his house.

Ethan remained upstairs for twenty minutes. When he returned, he wore some of Gabriel’s lounge pants and a sweater. His hair was wet, hanging over his face and into his eyes. He had shaved and the removal of the stubble had taken years off him. He looked fresh-faced and young. More handsome than ever. He glared at Gabriel when Gabriel’s gaze lingered.
Gabriel looked away. “Uncuff me. I have to pee.”
Ethan’s catlike eyes narrowed. He hesitated for just a moment before he produced a key from his pocket and bent over Gabriel. Gabriel could smell his own aftershave on him. It smelled much more intoxicating than it ever had on himself. Spicy, exciting, dangerous. Hell, Ethan should do the cologne ads. Ethan unlocked the cuff from the radiator leaving the other half dangling around Gabriel’s wrist. He moved back, levelling the gun at him.
Gabriel climbed up slowly, his backside numb, relieved to be away from the heat of the radiator. He walked through the living room and started to climb the stairs, followed by Ethan, those eyes searing his back. He turned around as he reached the bathroom door. “Come on then.” Ethan gestured with the gun impatiently.
“I can take it from here, thanks,” Gabriel said.
“I don’t think so. There are razor blades in there. You might kill yourself or something.”
Gabriel retorted before he could stop himself. “I’d hardly do that over you, babe.”
Ethan grabbed a handful of Gabriel’s shirt and shoved him into the bathroom, up against the mirror, pinning him there. “Me and you are going to fall out real soon if you keep this up.”
Gabriel felt the heat of the intruder’s body. Ethan was jammed against him way too hard, up close and personal, the pupils dilated in his pale green eyes and his nostrils flared like a stampeding bull. The evidence of rage merely turned Gabriel on further. Christ, he was going to get hard. He swallowed, fighting it back, thinking of his tax return, of how much he hated editing his books and doing publicity. Nothing worked. Ethan’s hand remained twisted in his shirt and Gabriel’s cock filled relentlessly. He closed his eyes, took a few slow, deep breaths and prayed to God that Ethan wouldn’t kill him for this. His inhalations merely drew Ethan’s spicy scent further into his nostrils and sent more blood rushing southwards. His skin tingled with need. He couldn’t remember the last time a man had aroused him this way.
Ethan let go so abruptly that Gabriel sagged back against the mirror. The intruder stood staring at him, his breath coming in sharp pants. Silence crushed the room. Gabriel waited for censure, for Ethan to strike him down.

Innocent should be released later this year. Look out for news about this and other works on my website and this blog.

To get more information on new releases and other competitions, please sign up to this blog.

To enter the draw, please leave a comment below and tell me which e-book you'd like to win. Please also leave a way for me to contact you.

Now, to check out other writers who have joined this blog hop CLICK HERE  or click their names below:

Thanks for stopping by!

Tuesday, 5 January 2016

Happy New Year

Happy New Year to my readers. After a year where very little was achieved other than revamping a few old books, I am looking forward rather than back.
My current project will be up first (to be discussed in the next post). After that, I aim to self-publish a revised edition of Inferno, a book many readers have been asking for in the time it has been out of print. My final republished book will be Secondhand Heart. During this time, I will be writing new material with a view to both submitting to publishers and self-publishing.
As always I welcome feedback from my readers.

Wednesday, 30 September 2015

Forbidden - out 30 November 2015


When things are forbidden, you merely want them more...
Vice-president David should have had it all – nice cars, the most expensive restaurants and the finest clothes. But he hides a secret from all his colleagues – he’s gay. He’s too scared to come out at work so he spends his evenings cruising for company and frequenting strip clubs. In one such place, he meets pole dancer Jeremy, a young man with problems of his own. Jeremy’s controlled by his boss Donny and soon David’s interest starts to spell danger for them both…

Read an excerpt:

Coxx was new to him. A last stop at the end of a night of solitary drinking. Somewhere he’d always wanted to go but had been afraid to. Not that night. That night alcohol gave him courage beyond his wildest dreams. After his tough day at work, he didn’t care about denying himself anymore.
The seedy male strip club was nestled at the ass end of West Hollywood, tucked away almost apologetically among the back streets. Its windows promised hot male dancers to cater to every whim. The carpet was sticky, but the beer was cold. A long runway featured shiny brass poles currently occupied by two dancers. The place was half-full, a slow night.
David Ackroyd sat on a stool at the edge of the stage, his gaze on the lithe blond at the end of the runway. He hadn’t expected to find any of the dancers worth more than titillation, but since the young man first slunk from behind the velvet curtains, he’d had David’s rapt attention.
He was average height with a lean, tanned body. All strong limbs and toned muscle, he wore nothing more than a sparkly silver thong and silly matching boots. The dancer’s plump, pert ass mesmerised David as he shook it in time to an old Mötley Crüe song and gyrated in front of a group of four giggling women.
Perhaps David hadn’t expected to see women in a place like Coxx, but why not? Ogling nearly naked men wasn’t the province of gay men alone; women had as much right to get their kicks as he did. The blond dancer played up to his audience by sliding to his knees and letting the women stroke his thighs and press bills into his thong. David doubted he would let his male admirers get quite so fresh with him. Having a man grope you was different. More intimidating, fraught with risk.
David took a swallow of Jack Daniel’s and Coke, wishing for a better look at the blond dancer. He glanced at the other man on the runway, a brunet. He was ripped and hard but nothing special to look at. He seemed tired, jaded and only spared each person at the edge of the stage fleeting attention. That was fine by David. He only had eyes for the blond.
Fluidly, the dancer stood up, moved a few steps back to the pole in the middle of the stage, and swung himself around it, wrapping his long limbs gracefully about the steel. David stared. The man hung upside down, ankles clinging, six-packed abdomen rippling. Then, he dismounted, stalked across the runway and stood with legs spread and hands on his hips, facing David. He seemed to wait as though for approval. David gulped as he lifted his gaze up the dancer’s magnificent body, lingering on the enticing bulge in his underwear. The blond was nearly too pretty to be called handsome. Maybe late twenties with perfect skin and large, almond-shaped eyes of piercing blue. A smile curled around the edges of his plump, sensual mouth as if he knew every one of David’s thoughts. Like he had watched him out of the corner of his eye and known David was salivating for a bit of the dancer’s attention.
David’s cock stirred. It filled with blood, pressing against his underwear with a sweet ache. He forgot where he was and drowned in the thrill of an attractive man seeking him out. David imagined they were in a nightclub, and he could take this beautiful stranger home if he wanted to and make love to him all night without money changing hands. He took another swallow of his drink as the man spun around, bent at the waist, and shook his ripe buttocks. Reaching back, the dancer stroked his own backside with lingering, sensual touches and pulled his cheeks just far enough apart that the string on the ridiculous thong shifted, barely covering a hint of pink pucker.
David clutched his knees and ground his teeth. His rampant cock raged against his pants. The dancer turned around. One hand on his thigh, fingers perilously close to his package, he swivelled his hips, thrusting his groin in David’s direction.
David watched raptly as the blond inched his fingers closer to the sparkling material covering his assets. His fingertips traced the bulge between his legs before he cupped himself and rubbed overtly. David licked his lips. The flimsy thong seemed to expand. Was the dancer getting hard? It was difficult to see in the darkness and playing shadows, but the underwear seemed strained to bursting, and the blond stroked his cock and balls as if he was very excited.
David placed his hands on the edge of the runway. He ached to touch, but he wouldn’t be that guy, grabbing disrespectfully and forgetting his boundaries. Now if the blond wanted to invite him to delve into that sparkly bill-stuffed pouch right here in front of all these people, that would be a different matter. David would give him the handjob of his life, no worries. Hell, he would open his mouth and let the dancer fuck it to his heart’s content right then if he wanted to.
The blond moved closer. He slid to his knees with thighs wide apart. David stared up at the sweat glistening on the dancer’s face and torso. He smelled the guy’s cologne, heady and spicy, and it made his cock jolt and throb. His fingers twitched. The dancer smiled. He gripped David’s right hand at the wrist and brought it to him, deliberately placing it on his own upper thigh.
His flesh was like damp silk. David stifled a groan. The blond guided David’s fingers to his inner thigh, electric-blue eyes never leaving his. When his touch grazed heavy balls, David thought he would whimper with desire. The blond’s hard-on was evident from this angle; his cockhead almost reared over the top of the overstuffed pouch. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips and then pressed David’s hand right into his groin, over a rigid pole, generous in every way.
David caught his breath. He closed his fingers around the dancer’s turgid shaft, squeezing gently but with greed, aware of overstepping the mark and ready to be apologetic.
A moment later, the blond jerked away. He skipped back to the pole and wound himself around it a couple of times before blowing kisses in the general direction of all those watching. Then, he disappeared behind the curtain.

David sat in crushing disappointment. His heart raced, and his cock threatened to explode. His desire dampened his underwear. He tried to rationalise to himself what had just happened. A scorching encounter with a man paid to interact with his audience. A bonus in every way at the end of a draining day. He smiled ruefully and finished his drink, adjusting himself discreetly before sliding from the stool. Drink and lust made him unsteady when he stood. He weaved his way to the exit and vowed he’d never come here again.

The Captain's Man - out 13 October 2015

See more

Wednesday, 9 September 2015

Stand and Deliver now available for pre-order

Stand and Deliver is now available for pre-order from Pride Publishing. Expanded and updated with more frilly shirts and more tight breeches than you can shake a stick at!

Pre-order 8 September
Early download 22 September
General release 20 October


When Lucien Mayer is held captive by dangerous but seductive highwaymen, does he escape, or does he give in to his heart’s desire?
Lucien, Earl of Ravensberry, has the looks, the title, the house and all the money in the world. What he’s lacking in his humdrum life of loneliness is someone to warm his sheets at night. When he’s kidnapped by five highwaymen one night, things start looking up. This is the most exciting thing to happen to him in forever.
But Lucien’s life is in danger. Dante, the tough, self-appointed leader of the band, doesn’t have a lot of time for captives and vows to kill him—after he’s used Lucien’s body as he desires. Then there’s Ambrosius, Dante’s best friend, a damaged, reclusive individual who appeals to Lucien from the outset. The feeling is mutual, and Lucien is soon braving a whirlwind of emotions. He had never thought to fall for an outlaw, and he is torn between escaping and satisfying the needs of his heart. All he knows is, life will never be the same again…
Lucien Mayer, fourteenth Earl of Ravensberry, pulled the blanket a little higher on his knees and leaned back against the leather seat, absently staring out of the window at the ink black sky littered with stars. The London-Nottingham road made for treacherous going, rutted with holes, every jolt sloshing the liquor around in his stomach.
The night had been satisfying enough. He had left the card game at Lord Blackstone’s estate more than a little drunk and with a thousand pounds in his purse. It was a shame that he despised the lord and most of his cohorts.
Lucien lived a fruitless existence alone in his mansion with his servants, squandering his inheritance on drinking and cards. He had come into this on his twenty-first birthday after the deaths of his parents, shot and killed by highwaymen on this very stretch of road. He had been alone in the world for eight long years and he doubted that would ever change.
The thunderous beat of what sounded like many hooves shattered his drunken introspection. He lowered the coach window and stuck his head out, curious as to the commotion. He wished he hadn’t when he saw four black horses charging after his coach like bats out of hell, all their riders with scarves pulled up over their faces, the man in front brandishing a pistol.
“Faster, Stephen!” Lucien yelled, rapping on the roof with his cane. Although he had never been robbed, he lived in mortal terror of just this event happening, not least because of what had happened to his parents. This stretch of road had recently become notorious with a gang of highwaymen known as The Dark Knights, who robbed and killed with zeal. Lucien knew his luck had run out.
The horses’ hooves became deafeningly loud. Lucien saw one of the beasts overtake his coach to ride neck and neck with his own horses, the rider barking out an instruction to his coachman.
An instant later, the coachman reined in the horses and the coach came to a shuddering halt, almost throwing Lucien from his seat. An icy terror enveloped his heart as a shadow fell across him. He slowly looked up.
There was a face at the window, ghostly white by the light of the carriage’s lamps, under a tricorn hat and a black scarf. Only the eyes showed, a startling dark, emerald green with thick, sooty lashes.
A disembodied hand thrust a pistol rudely through the open window, hard into Lucien’s chest, right over his heart.
“Stand and deliver,” drawled a deep, sardonic voice, the accent southern. “Your money or your life.”
Lucien drew in his breath in horror. Staring into the cold, unblinking eyes, he found himself thinking that his life was worth little enough anyway. Why should he roll over and die at the hands of these bandits?
“I haven’t got anything,” he said, his voice less steady than he would have liked.
The eyes gleamed with amusement and Lucien could have sworn the bastard smiled. “The crest on your coach says differently, my lord,” he said, voice edged with steel. “Hand me your purse if you value your life. It’s cold tonight and my companions are anxious to be away to their beds.”
Lucien’s eyes flickered behind the highwayman to the two indistinct faces of the other villains, the third just at the edge of his view, pistol trained on his coachman.
When the silence dragged on, the man at the front of the coach barked, “Do as he says. Don’t be a stupid boy.”
Lucien clenched his fist in fury. “Do you know who I am?” he demanded, surveying the four men haughtily. “I’m not a boy! How dare you address me this way?”
The highwayman at the window laughed softly. “All right,” he said. “I’ve had enough. One more time. Give me your purse or you die. Boy.” The pistol jabbed farther into his chest. The hammer was cocked back.
Lucien stared into the green eyes. Suddenly there was a swift movement from the front of the coach. The man who had been taking charge of the driver nosed his horse in next to the green-eyed highwayman’s. He reached in through the window so his face was close to Lucien’s, his eyes fixed on Lucien’s, black as the darkness, and slid his hand inside Lucien’s frockcoat, into the pocket at his breast where he kept his purse, his hand ice-cold even through the thick linen of Lucien’s shirt.
He withdrew the purse with no protest from Lucien, who was too frightened to move, and slipped it into a saddlebag on the side of his horse.
“Let’s go,” he said dismissively, turning his horse’s head around, casting a look back at Lucien.
The green-eyed man stared a little while longer at Lucien. “Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet into your head anyway, you spoilt brat?” he hissed into Lucien’s face, jabbing him with the pistol.
“Leave it,” called his co-conspirator, the one who had robbed him. “Let’s go.” Although the green-eyed man appeared to be the leader, the dark-eyed one obviously had some influence over him, because his tormentor drew away from the window now.
“You’ll keep,” he said. “I don’t forget a face.”

Tuesday, 18 August 2015

Re-release of some oldies

Pleased to announce that Pride Publishing will re-release three of my books this year. Stand and Deliver, The Captain's Man and The Captain's Beloved have all been revamped with new scenes, new artwork and new ISBNs. Stand and Deliver is up first with pre-orders starting on 8 September.