Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Wootton Bassett - A remarkable little town

Today at sunset, they are lowering the Union Jack in a small market town in Wiltshire. This is the last act in a ceremony that has taken place over the last few years. Wootton Bassett is now known around the world as the town that comes to a standstill when fallen soldiers from Afghanistan are brought home.
Most everyone knows how it all started with a handful of Royal British Legion members saluting the passage of the fallen, and how it turned into a national occasion. Last week marked the last time a cortege passed slowly along the High Street. The standards were lowered in silence and the proud and grieving family members paid their own tributes in the midst of a crowd of silent support. It was a cold, grey and miserable late summer day but that didn't stop the hundreds of people from turning up to stand beneath the trees that line the pavement.
I'm lucky enough to work in Wootton Bassett, to see how the town fills up to honour the repatriated men. I've seen the flowers and cards placed lovingly around the War Memorial and I've seen the Union Jack fluttering in the breeze. It's an unassuming little town where the locals and the people who work in the shops and banks and other businesses are unfailingly friendly and welcoming. There's a really good feeling about the place. I can't put my finger on it but I know that I love being just a small part of Wootton Bassett, for six or more hours a day, five days a week.
Today I had to pop to the shops before I returned home. I looked along the High Street at the news vans already gathered there and at that Union Jack. My eyes stung a little, knowing it would be the last time I'd see it flying there. Yes, I know it's just a flag, but in Wootton Basssett, it's presided over the return of so many young men. It's seen the crowds stand in silent tribute honouring those young men. It's being passed on, to another place. I just hope this other place will do those soldiers and that flag proud.
So this is just my little thank you to a remarkable place. Wootton Bassett - thank you.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner! - Naughty Threesome Blog Tour Grand Prize

Thanks to everyone who joined Marie Sexton, Talia Carmichael and I for our Naughty Threesome Blog Tour. It was a terrific 8 days of celebrating the release of our books 'Song of Oestend' by Marie Sexton, 'Ralston's Way' by Talia Carmichael and my book, 'Stolen Summer'.

It was my first ever blog tour and I enjoyed every minute of it, especially the comments.

The winner of the Naughty Threesome Blog Tour Grand Prize is:

Tiffany M

Congrats Tiffany M. You’re our grand prize winner of theNaughty Threesome Blog Tour.The prizes you won are:

$50 All Romance Ebook ebooks bucks! (must have or create an account at All Romance Ebook so I can send the prize to you)

1 pdf from Talia’s backlist (winner’s choice of Detour, Reckless Behaviour, or A Tender Roughness)

A swag pack from Marie

1 ebook from Marie’s backlist (winner’s choice of Promises, A to Z, Strawberries for Dessert, or One More Soldier)

1 pdf of S.A.’s book Stolen Summer

Talia, Marie and myself will be contacting you at the email you provided about the prizes.

Thanks again everyone for joining us on our tour.

Monday, August 29, 2011

The Naughty Threesome Blog Tour - Day 8

Hello and welcome to the final day of the Naughty Threesome Blog Tour. Today, we let our characters take over and, as you’ll see they have a lot to talk about.


Morgan enters the ranch house looking over his shoulder. “I didn’t schedule any meeting, Blayne. Who is it?”

Blayne doesn’t answer, walking away laughing. Morgan frowns, knowing that laugh meant he was up to no good.

“Cactus, I don’t like surprises,” he calls after him.

Blayne’s laughter increases. Cursing, Morgan goes inside. He makes a left into the living room. He puts his hands on his hips and scowls at the men sitting in his living room.

“Oh.... it is you two. Don’t ya’ll have better things to be doing than loitering in my living room?” Morgan growls.

Aren shakes his head. “Not really. Deacon’s off running the ranch, and I have nothing but time.”

“I thought you said there was beer,” Evan say. “This isn’t proper beer, it’s gnat’s piss.”

“If you are going to be insulting Evan, there is the door. And Aren, it must be nice that you don’t have anything to do. Too bad I can’t say the same.” Morgan turns the pauses. “Shit. If I go back out there Blayne will get pissed at me not being at least polite. Then again Blayne pissed might be a good thing.” A wicked smiled curls Morgan’s lips.

Morgan goes back into the living room and sprawls in his favorite chair.

Aren shrugs. “Proper beer or not, it’s great! The only things we have at the BarChi are water, milk, and whisky.”

Evan stares at the bottle, takes a sip and grimaces. “Sodding Colorado Kool-aid. Ah, well it’s better than a poke in the eye, I suppose.”

“Stop your belly aching,” Morgan said.

(Matt and Jared must poke their heads in to say that Colorado beer is the best beer! New Belgium and O’Dell’s do not make Kool-Aid! Now *poof*, they’re gone.)

Aren eyes the spot where the two men were. “Holy Saints. Who were those guys?”

“No clue. I guess they have a thing for Colorado beer,” Morgan said.

“Next time, I’ll bring the beer.” Evan sets the bottle down and reaches for a sandwich. “These, on the other hand, I could eat until I burst. Great beef.”

“So glad something meets your taste,” Morgan replied dryly.

“Yup, these’ll do.” Evan takes a huge bite of sandwich, scattering crumbs.

Aren sits up in his chair to address Morgan. “It’s not that I have nothing to do at the ranch, but I’m caught up on the books. I’ll help the ranch hands with the horses when they come back from the fields, but until then, my time is my own. I suppose I could paint, but...”

“No need to explain, Aren. Just pulling your leg. Until I meet Blayne I was all about work. But now I can appreciate taking time for other things.” Morgan crossed his ankles, lacing his hands over his stomach.

“So, Aren,” Evan says, “what about this Deacon chap? Give us a clue.”

“Deacon’s big and strong and rough, and if you ever meet him, I’d recommend not pissing him off. He’s basically the foreman of the BarChi. He’s in charge of the ranch hands. Once we get to the bedroom, though, I’m in charge.” [wicked grin]

“You dirty gits.” Evan grins.

“Umm...I don’t really think I want to know anymore.” Morgan winces.

“Don’t tell him I told you, though,” Aren says, looking around the room as if somebody might have overheard. “He really can’t let anybody at the BarChi know about that.”

“I definitely won’t be mentioning this conversation to anyone,” Morgan promises.

“Don’t worry, discretion is my middle name. Some things are best kept quiet. In my job, I’ve learned to keep secrets, even though it could’ve meant some bloody fantastic exclusives.” Evan contemplates another sandwich.

“Stop eyeing the food, Evan. Tell us about your man.” Morgan snags the sandwich before Evan could get it.

Evan sighs and leans back into the cushions. “He’s my best friend. He always has been. He’s passionate, bossy, stubborn. He’s also brilliant in bed. God, I wish he were here now. I wouldn’t be eyeing up those sandwiches, that’s for sure. What about your Blayne?”

“Cactus...he’s opinionated and wants things his way. But they are my way no matter what he believes. Blayne got under my skin and damn if I know how. I enjoy mussing him up. Almost as much as I enjoy goading him into losing his temper. One he tells me at the top of his lungs he doesn’t have.” Laughing, Morgan finishes up his sandwich.

“I saw your cows out there, Morgan,” Aren says. “I’ll tell you, I wish the cows in Oestend looked like that. The ones in Lanstead do, but not in Oestend. Oestend cows are big. And mean. And downright scary. I do my best to stay away from them.”

“I don’t blame you, mate,” Evan says. “The cows here are big enough.”

“Hmmm... big cows. I would be interested in seeing that.” Morgan grabs a beer taking a deep drink.

“I’m not all that keen on animals,” Evan says. “Especially goats, their meat is foul, no matter how much you try and disguise it as curry.”

Morgan spews out his beer laughing. “You are a funny man, Evan. You must have Colin cracking up all the time. ”

“You mean when he’s not trying to jump my bones?” Evan looks at Aren. “What about this Deacon chap? Does he like a laugh? And your Blayne, Morgan.”

“I have a feeling you are the one who jumps Colin’s bones, Evan. And Blayne loves to laugh. Mostly when he is up to something he knows will aggravate me. He knows I hate change- “ Morgan pauses, eyeing his unexpected guests. “And surprises but still insists on doing them. Claims it keeps me from being an ornery cuss.”

“Deacon’s a pretty serious guy,” Aren says. “Then again, there’s not a lot on the BarChi to laugh at. Except me. I’m a city boy, still trying to figure things out on the ranch. Deacon can always find a reason to laugh at me.

“Yeah, Morgan, you sussed it. I can’t keep my hands off him. Especially since...well, you know. So it sounds like we’re all with the right sorts. I wish I was home now. There’s proper football on the telly tonight.”

“And again with the belly aching. If you’ll didn’t want to be here then why did you come? I could be out working. Instead I am in here being sociable. Cactus is so going to owe me one for this.” Morgan takes another drink of beer.

Aren looks extremely confused. “What’s football?” he asks. “What’s telly? Ah, never mind. I’ll just drink more beer.”

Morgan lowers his beer staring at Aren. “You don’t know what football is? Or a television? What do you do all day when Deacon is working?”

“I paint, or I work on the books for the BarChi, or sometimes I help with the chores, like mucking stalls, although I’m still pretty slow at it.”

“If you want some practice at mucking stalls I have some you can do.” Morgan gestures at the bay window with the view of the stables behind him.

Aren laughs. “No thanks! I’m perfectly happy to sit here drinking beer! I should have brought my whisky along. I feel bad for not having anything to contribute.”

“I wish you had brought some whisky.” Evan eyes the sandwich plate. “Does anyone want that last sandwich? If you’re going to have us mucking out bloody horses, I’ll need sustenance.”

“Fine you want whisky, then I’ll get you some.” Morgan stands slamming down his beer on table. He goes to liquor cabinet and takes out the whisky, grabbing 3 glasses. Returning to his seat, he puts the bottle and glasses on table. He opens bottle and pours some in a glass then puts it back down and leans back in his chair cradling his glass. He eyes the other men. “If you want any you better help yourselves.” He drinks from his glass.

Aren eyes the whisky without much enthusiasm. “I get plenty of whisky at the BarChi. It’s that, milk or water. I buy the best whisky I can find, but the monotony does get old. Evan can have my whisky and I’ll take his beer!”

“Cheers, mate.” Evan helps himself to a generous measure of whisky and slides his beer towards Aren.

“Aren, we can go out a I’ll let you milk one of the cows. Since you are partial to milk.” Morgan winks chuckling.

Aren and Evan glance at each other then at Morgan. Morgan smiles innocently drinking from his glass.

“Why is it you keep trying to put us to work?” Evan says swirling his whisky in his glass.

Aren laughs, shaking his head. “Just like Deacon.” He winks mischievously at Morgan. “Do you like to be tied up, too?”

Morgan spews then glares at Aren. “Making me waste good whisky on such nonsense. If there is any tying, I do it.”

Aren grins knowingly at Evan. “Oh yeah. Somebody should tie him up, for sure.”

Blayne’s head appears by the doorjamb. “And we have some sturdy ropes too.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Good enough to tie you up. We’ll do it later as well as work on getting your braid looser.” Morgan smirks.

“You are obsessed with my braid. You won’t get it loose you stubborn cowboy. Give it up already.” Blayne rolls his eyes and leaves.

Morgan laughs then says to the men, “That braid of his is sexy. Drives me crazy trying to get it loose. But I have such fun in trying. Over and over again.”

Aren jumps in with obviousy excitement, “We have this ottoman in the bedroom. I like to make Deacon strip, and then I tie him to it. He’s so big, and he has scars on his back. Holy Saints, you should see him. He’s amazing. I have a riding crop, and-- “

“Whoa. Stop right there. Don’t want to know anymore. Christ you are as bad as Blayne sharing too much.” Morgan shakes his head then glances at Evan. “You have anything to add-” He puts up his hand. “But please not so much detail.” Morgan glares at Aren.

Aren smiles innocently, drinking his beer.

“Do you mind if we change the subject? All this talk of being tied up doesn’t bring up good memories for me.” Evan downs his whisky in one gulp and folds his arms across his chest.

Morgan studies him then grabs the bottle, refilling Evan’s glass. He pushes it towards Evan.

“Holy Saints,” Aren swears. “I’m sorry!

“Don’t worry about it, mate. It’s all over and done with now. I just don’t like being away from Colin, much. We’re not into any of that bondage stuff. I just love the man. I love waking up in bed with him, even though he hogs the duvet. What he does with his hands makes up for that and for him leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor.” Evan glances at the clock on the wall. “Is it time to go yet?”

“Let me get you bottle of whisky to go.” Morgan stands. He pauses by Aren and whispers. “And you some sturdy rope for your kinky games.” He winks then grabs a bottle of whisky from the cabinet and hands it to Evan before he heads outside.

Blayne meets him on the porch and hands him some rope. Morgan eyes him. Blayne kisses him softly then wanders back down the porch entering the entrance to the offices.

“You’re drooling,” Aren says.

“Don’t you have a man you need to be getting to? I know I do.” He hands Aren the rope then strides off towards where Blayne went. Morgan goes into the office entrance without looking at them again.

“We’ll see ourselves out then,” Aren says, laughing and turning to Evan. But Evan isn’t there. Aren glances beyond the porch and laughs harder as he realizes Evan is already halfway to his Peugeot.

Evan glances back at Aren. “I’d offer you a lift mate, but this isn’t a Tardis. It doesn’t do alternate worlds, it’s all I can do to get the bugger round the Oxford Ring Road.”

Aren (who is quite confused by these miniature trains that don’t need tracks), says, “Don’t worry. I’ll just *poof* out like those crazy Colorado beer fanatics did.”

[And he does]

Evan eyes the bottle of whisky suspiciously, shrugs and climbs into the car. “Fuck me, that’s some strong stuff. Time to head home, I think.”

Morgan sticks his head out the door calling. “If you can’t drive then we can get you a room. I’ll take care of it later. I’m busy right now.”

“Is that what you are calling it?” Blayne’s laughter can be heard behind him.

“Don’t worry, mate. This is ‘fiction’, remember? I turn the key in the ignition, click my heels together three times, say ‘poof’ and I’m gone.” Evan salutes, turns the key in the ignition, mumbles something and the little blue car is gone.

“We’ll I’ll be damned. He was right.” Morgan turns and brings Blayne against his body rubbing against him. “ But this doesn’t feel like fiction. More like friction.”

Laughing he lifts Blayne up. Blayne puts his legs around him. They head down the hall and back to the office. Locking the door they get some friction going.


A huge thank you to everyone who joined us on the tour and took the time to leave a comment. I hope you all had as much fun as we have!


Ralston’s Way, by Talia Carmichael: (available now)
Song of Oestend, by Marie Sexton: (available now)
Stolen Summer, by S.A. Meade: (available now)

Please be sure to follow us on our blog tour. We’re keeping track of everybody who leaves a comment along the way, and on August 30th, we’ll choose one person to win our Grand Prize!

The Grand Prize winner will receive:

Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Naughty Threesome Blog Tour!! W00t!

I am a very lucky newbie author. Stolen Summer is being released a mere week after two other Total E-Bound releases - 'Song of Oestend' by Marie Sexton and 'Ralston's Way' by Talia Carmichael and I get to tag along!

We're launching a whirlwind eight-day blog tour with great blog posts and some great prizes including a Grand Prize of:

$50 All Romance Ebook ebooks bucks! (must have an account at All Romance Ebook so I can send the prize to you)

1 pdf from Talia’s backlist (winner's choice of Detour, Reckless Behaviour, or A Tender Roughness)

A swag pack from Marie
1 ebook from Marie’s backlist (winner's choice of Promises, A to Z, Strawberries for Dessert, or One More Soldier)
1 pdf of S.A. Meade’s Stolen Summer

The tour will kick off this Monday 22nd August on Top 2 Bottom Reviews and finish right here on my humble little blog. I hope you all will come along for the ride. It should be great fun. All you'll need to do to make sure you're in with a chance of winning the grand prize is follow us on the tour, check in on the blogs and comment often. At the end of the tour, we'll collect all your names and throw them in a draw, with the winner to be announced on 30th August.

So go awn! Follow the Naughty Threesome's journey! We're looking forward to seeing you.

Monday, August 22nd: Top 2 Bottom Reviews (
Tuesday, August 23rd: Talia Carmichael’s blog (
Wednesday, August 24th: Amara’s Place (
Thursday, August 25th: Fiction Vixen (
Friday, August 26th: Marie’s blog (
Saturday, August 27th: Heidi Cullinan’s blog (
Sunday, August 28th: Smexy Books (
Monday, August 29th: S.A. Meade’s blog (

You can buy our books here:
Ralston’s Way, by Talia Carmichael:
Song of Oestend, by Marie Sexton:
Stolen Summer, by S.A. Meade:

You can find out more about Marie by checking out these links:

And more about Talia:

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The soundtrack to 'Stolen Summer'

I'm one of those writers who hears a song, or even just a line of a song and is suddenly frantic to reach the computer and start writing a Shiny New Idea. That's how this whole recent writing lark of mine started - driving through a tumbleweed-riddled stretch of Arizona desert in the heat of July. I had one of my home-made compilation CDs on and Eva Cassidy was singing 'Fields of Gold'. I stared at the distant storm clouds rising over the Pinal Mountains and thought longingly of English wheat fields dozing beneath a gentler sun. A handful of hours later I had a scene in my head of two lovers making love on a summer's evening beside a field of barley. The next day I had a story. Sadly, one that has been trunked since.

Everything I've written since has inadvertently acquired a soundtrack. 'Stolen Summer' is no exception. For those of you who've read the previous blog about how my mucky little book came to be, you'll know that I scribbled down a few plot points on a flight from Phoenix to LA. The next Big Thing was the above piece of music. My roomie, fellow writer Amy Bai, asked if I'd ever heard of Ludovico Einaudi. I confessed that I hadn't. She then clicked a few keys on her laptop and .... wow.

'Divenire' just crept into my little writer's brain and stayed there. When I got back to Arizona, I downloaded the LP and it became the soundtrack to 'Stolen Summer'. Even now, I have only to listen to 'Divenire' and I can see the scenes that it accompanies. If anyone ever decides to adapt the book into a film (What? I can dream, can't I?) I shall insist that this be included in the soundtrack.

So, writers...what songs have inspired you? Whose music makes you frantic to write?

Sunday, August 7, 2011

A Sunday Snog

One of my fellow TEB authors, Victoria Blisse, has a nifty little thing on her blog. It's called Sunday Snog.

I love a good snog, me. If you love a bit of snoggage, check out Victoria's blog. There'll be links to other blogs with other snogs.

I'm posting mine below. It's from my WIP 'Mourning Jack', which is very much a Work in (slow) Progress. Bear in mind it's a first draft and is probably plagued with excess commas and the occasional pesky independent body part.

Have a read and don't forget to check out Victoria's blog for more snoggage. :D

Have a great Sunday. I'm doing the full Sunday dinner today and may well do other domesticky things if I can tear myself away from the laptop.


The late spring breeze shifted through the curtains, bringing the scent of flowers into the shadowy room. Supper simmered on the stove and there was nothing left to do but enjoy the peace and quiet.

“I’d forgotten what you looked like in jeans.” Cal grinned and set his beer down. “You look bloody good.”

“Thank you.”

He ran his hand along my thigh and left it on my knee.

I bit my lip. We’d slept apart for four weeks and I hated the empty nights even more than the temptation and longing. I’d missed his touch so much so that it was impossible to ignore the electricity.

“I’ve missed you.” Cal’s voice was a whisper.

“Same here.” I covered his hand with mine and couldn’t pull away when he leaned forward and kissed me.


“No guilt, no remorse.” He moved closer. “Don’t worry.”

He tasted of hops and summer. His lips were soft and hot little breaths met mine.

“Are you sure?” I slid my hands beneath his tee-shirt, seeking the heat of his skin.

“Oh yes.” He slid to the floor and crept between my legs.


“Hush.” Cal crept forward and ran his palm with agonising slowness across my flies. He reached up and pulled my head down to his. “I need you, Ade.”

“Why now?” I could scarcely speak, let alone breathe.

He gently eased the zip down and slipped his hand beneath my shorts. “Because seeing you in jeans makes me want to see you without them.”

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

An Interview with Scarlett Parrish.

This is a first for me.
My friend Scarlett has a new book out this week. It's a good 'un, with non-sparkly sexy vampires. I decided to do my bit to promote it and Scarlett consented to answer some questions.

Why Vampires?
Why not? :D I’ve always been fascinated by them. I was allowed to stay up late to watch Hammer Horror films as a kid and loved Christopher Lee. Still do. Vampires are the perfect combination of sex and danger. I can well understand why they’re so popular.
Having read ‘A Little Death’, I have to say, I thought the way you made vampires fit into everyday life really worked. How did you make that happen?
This story’s been through so many incarnations it’s not funny. One problem I had was convincing the heroine (who wasn’t, at that point, even called Mallory) that Cian Ambrose was a vampire. In early versions, he was the first one to appear – Jonathan Cutler didn’t even exist back then – and they weren’t accepted into society. They were secretive and hidden away.
I didn’t want to have him say, “By the way, I’m undead,” and have the heroine shrug and say, “Okay.” I mean, in real life if someone said that to you, you’d have them carted off by the men in white coats.
One day I started playing around with the idea of solving that problem by simply having vampires as already accepted by society. A “solve the problem by ignoring it,” philosophy. And damn if it didn’t work. There’s some world-building and background, but I tried to write those sections without drawing attention to them, just have Mallory speaking about vampires’ existence the way you or I would about trees or cars or dogs. A Little Death is set in the here and now, in a world exactly like ours apart from the existence of the undead.
One thing I really love about your writing is your knack of picking out the most prosaic of details. It’s the sort of thing that makes me think ‘Yeah, I’ve been there.’ What kind of little things do you look for to make a story feel so ‘real’ for readers?
*preens* That’s a compliment I’ll remember for a long time!
It’s not something I concentrate on. It’s not entirely conscious. Maybe it comes from being deep in the point of view of my main characters. Part of it could be my aversion to telling-not-showing. I don’t want to tell the readers my character is scared, lonely, horny, excited, whatever. I ask myself, “How would I show this? What would their body language be? How would other people react?”
And if I were in a given situation, to what would I pay attention? A ticking clock, the whoosh of traffic, my heart thudding, the churning in my stomach? Even those aren’t good enough. I want to describe someone’s stomach churning in a new way, unique to them. And yet, it has to make the reader sit up and go, “Yes – I know that feeling!” Each writer has their own unique voice, and I use mine to attempt to describe universal feelings.
Also: we have five senses. I like to play to them all. I once heard it said that smell more readily transports us back into the past than any other sense. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know, but it’s a reminder that it, taste, touch, hearing and sight all work together, so we should use them all in our writing.
What made you decide to write erotic novels?
Being unable to think of anything else to write. :D My first erotic romance, Long Time Coming, was written on a wing, a prayer and the thought, “Oh sod it, might as well try.” It was incredibly freeing and so much fun to write.
And, as arrogant as it may seem, I was offended by so much erotica out there. A lot of it is porn by another name, or…dare I say it…rapey and skincrawly. (Yes, those are real words. I say so.) I set out to write the kind of erotic romance I’d want to read and luckily, other people seem to enjoy them too.
Writing erotica is no excuse to skimp on character development or to think you can get away with fast-forwarding the declarations of love. Too often it’s “Let’s fuck. I love you. Happily ever after,” which I find completely unrealistic. I don’t buy the “It’s fantasy,” excuse. No, it’s not fantasy. It’s fiction. And as such, it must have the ring of truth. Your reader has to be able to suspend disbelief, not completely divorce him- or herself from plausibility.
How do you think you’ve changed as a writer since your first book was published?
I use fewer ellipses.
But seriously, I like to think I’ve cut down on my bad habits. Ellipses, em-dashes, starting off sentences with ‘so’ and ‘well’. All of the above are matters of editing and polishing. When it comes to the bigger picture – plot and story and character, I like to think I’m taking a few more risks. Writing from a male point of view, writing a purely M/M novel, branching out into paranormal. Okay, so my books thus far are all erotica, but I’m dabbling in various sub-genres.
I find what goes on between my characters’ ear far more interesting than what goes on between their legs. These days, I try to concentrate on that. They still have a hell of a lot of sex, but I hope the reader understands why.
Where do you see yourself, as a writer in ten years time?
Underneath James Purefoy, after giving my Booker acceptance speech.
Oh, you wanted a serious answer? Agented, traditionally print-published, and earning enough money to not have to worry any more.
Also, I’d like to be having a lot more sex.
What do you like best about writing?
The freedom. I can keep my own hours, stay in my pyjamas all day, work anywhere, use anything as inspiration…
What’s the worst thing?
All of the above means I suffer from a lack of self-discipline. I feel like I ought to keep set hours or have a daily word count goal, but…the freedom to do whatever I want all day means I dick around with chores or emailing or reading and I have that voice nagging in the back of my head, telling me I should write more.
What’s your favorite snack?
Pringles or chocolate or angel cake or jaffa cakes or Rice Krispies. Or all of the above.
Boxers or jockey shorts?
Shorts, I think. Something snug, but not speedo-tight. Show me the goods, not every pube and ball-wrinkle.
What ‘Everest’ of writing would you like to tackle one day?
Winning the Booker prize for an erotic literary novel.
Multiple Choice:
(a) Purefoy
(c) Turner
But seriously, Purefoy wins every time. God damn, that man is hot. I mean, have you seen him in Vanity Fair? Tight britches, carrying a riding crop, narrow sideburns emphasizing his cheekbones… RAWR!
Seeing dead people is all very well...unless one of them wants to kill you.
To Mallory Sharpe, vampires are a fact of life. They exist, walk the streets and for the most part mind their own business. As a second-year university student, she doesn't pay the undead much attention until she meets Jonathan Cutler. He has needs, and blood is only one. The other, Mallory is more than willing to help him with. After all, he has but one rule, to never spend more than one night with a woman. He won't get attached, or consciously put anyone's life in danger.
Another vampire, Cian Ambrose, isn't so troubled by conscience. Mallory's fair game, a weapon to taunt Jonathan with. In fact, it might be fun to make her his grail, or living blood donor, and Cian Ambrose doesn't take kindly to the word no. He hasn't heard it often in his one hundred and fifty years and it usually results in the other person ending up dead.
So with Mallory's tolerance for undead guys running very low, Jonathan has to re-gain her trust, stop Cian killing her, oh...and for God's sake, not fall in love.
Scarlett Parrish lives in the U.K. in the small corner of her flat not currently overrun by books. She can often be found drooling over James Purefoy or searching for the perfect chocolate bar. She believes most fleshpeoples (except James) are evil and much prefers the characters in her head. On the occasions she ventures out, Scarlett is always accompanied by her BONER—Black Omnipresent Notebook of Erotic Romance. One never knows when inspiration will strike. Sometimes she’ll visit the cinema, alone but for the aforementioned characters. Another favourite pastime is listening to 30 Seconds to Mars and thinking about Shannon Leto’s tattoos. A chronic insomniac, she writes most of her dirty books in the middle of the night and loves to keep her e-reader stocked with erotic romance to occupy her down time.
Purchase link for A Little Death:
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