Sunday, 7 February 2016


I thought I'd do a little reminiscing on a Sunday and am going to kick off with these and lose myself in my youth.

I love Midge Ure, both in and out of Ultravox. Not least because my friend Steve is a deadringer for him - minus the silly little ponytail! Poor Steve didn't have enough hair on the top of his head anyway - never mind any spare at the back!

Hope you enjoy them and they bring a smile to your face like they have mine :)

See you next Sunday!

Monday, 11 January 2016



The winners are..... drum roll please.... Teresa and Kirsty!

If you can shoot me a pm on fb letting me know what format you want,
I can put you in contact with Dreamspinner :)

Thursday, 7 January 2016


My latest release, Before Sundown, is a love story between an ornery ranch hand and the landowner's son. I am giving away two ebooks and all you have to do to be in the running is leave a comment telling me your favourite cowboy film... Mine is The Searchers, John Wayne :) My glamorous assistant will pick a winner on Monday!

Samuel Somerfield is used to the oppressive heat of the Texas plains, and in the year 1892 things get even hotter when ranch hand Eli Watkins walks onto the job. Every stolen glance, every searing touch from Eli tilts Samuel’s world on its axis. He wants only to spend the rest of his life in Eli’s arms. But Samuel’s cruel and domineering father has other plans for him. Samuel must marry Eleanor Johnston and give his father the social standing he craves. 

Eli knew falling in love with Samuel would cause problems, yet even he never dreamed Mr. Somerfield would go to such lengths to keep his son and him apart. After Somerfield orders a beating that leaves Eli disfigured and embarrassed, Eli takes a job on another ranch far from Samuel. 

News of Samuel’s impending wedding eventually reaches Eli, and he realizes he must return to the man he loves, despite what might await him, and try to save Samuel from a life he was not meant to live.


Chapter 1

San Antonio. 1892

“ENDA THE trail, son.”

Eli Watkins stretched his arms above his head and grimaced as his own stink filled his nostrils. He groaned loudly and yawned. The trek from Dallas had been long and uncomfortable, his clothes stuck to his skin under the relentless heat of the Texas sun, and his ass was numb from sitting on the unforgiving wooden floor of the cart. He gazed up at the sign atop the tall fence posts and smiled at the single word carved into it: Somerfield.

Eli had been working a spread in Dallas a few weeks ago when Somerfield’s foreman had arrived with some cowboys to take the horses his boss had purchased back to San Antonio. After seeing how Eli handled the animals, Garrett Jackson had offered him a new job for more pay. Eli accepted without hesitation. Everything Jackson told him about Somerfield piqued his interest, especially the “more pay” part. Now he was here, ready to embark on a new chapter, and the familiar tingle of excitement curled his toes in his worn-out boots.

“Ya just gonna sit there?”

Eli grinned at the owner of the gruff voice, then grabbed his saddlebags and stood up. He clambered over the side of the cart and jumped to the ground, his boots sending dust flying in all directions. He’d met the farmer in the saloon in town and gratefully accepted his offer of a ride to the ranch. He only hoped the hospitality that awaited him beyond the imposing sign was as genial as the old man staring down at him.

“Thanks for the ride, Homer.” Eli tipped his hat. “I’m much obliged.”

“Di’n’t cost nothin’,” Homer replied. “Manners never do, son. Ya’d do well to remember that. Good luck, boy. From what I’ve heard, yer’ll need it.”

Eli watched the cart until it had moved away. He briefly wondered what Homer meant—but only briefly. His feet itched to carry him toward the big house visible at the top of the drive as if eager to get him to his destination. Eli threw his saddlebags over his shoulder, pulled his hat down firmly to shield his eyes against the sun, then began to walk.

The sun was hot on his back as he trudged along. Eli could feel sweat running down his spine. Not the most pleasant experience in the world, but he hoped there’d be a bucket of cold water he could clean off in. He smiled as he heard his mother’s voice in the back of his mind.

I swear, Eli, yer the only boy I know who likes to spend more time in the bath than out of it.

She may not have understood his desire to be clean more often than once a week before church, but he was the apple of his mother’s eye, and he knew it. When he’d decided to leave the farm to look for work, she’d tried to talk him out of it, but they both knew he didn’t have a choice. Farming wasn’t for him and they needed the money. Which was why he’d been so quick to accept Jackson’s offer. Usually he’d try to find out a bit about a spread before he worked on it, but the thought of sending more money home to his family had been too tempting an opportunity to pass up. After Homer’s parting remark, though, he hoped he wouldn’t regret that oversight as he drew closer to the house.

He was almost there, wondering whether to go around to the back of the house to the kitchens or head straight to the barn, when he heard someone call his name.

“Hey! Watkins!”

Eli looked to the left of the house where the corral was situated and lifted a hand in greeting to the Somerfield foreman as he walked toward him. “Mr. Jackson, sir! Good to see ya again.”

Jackson stopped in front of him and shook the hand Eli held out. “Was expectin’ ya two days ago, boy. I reckoned ya’d changed ya mind.”

“No, sir. Had a little trouble getting a ride. Had to wait,” Eli explained. “Got me as far as San Antone, where I met a man who let me tag along for the last bit. Name a’ Homer.”

“Homer Petersen.” Jackson nodded. “Owns a farm ’bout five miles from here. Good man. Well, no matter, yer here now.” He turned and waved his arm in the general direction of the corral and other outbuildings. “Welcome to Somerfield Ranch. C’mon.”

Eli hitched his saddlebags higher on his shoulder and fell in step beside Jackson, heading toward the corral. Inside the fenced-off arena, a boy led a horse around in a wide circle. Eli’s lips twitched. The boy couldn’t have been more than seventeen, and the intense concentration on his face reminded Eli of himself at that age. He liked the boy’s technique: the soft, soothing mumblings he uttered and the way the horse responded to each pull on the rope. The kid had potential. Eli could sense it, one horseman to another.

“Willie!” Jackson called out the boy’s name and Willie trotted over to where they leaned on the fence.

“Yes, Mr. Jackson, sir?” Willie’s curious gaze flitted to Eli, but he didn’t acknowledge his presence.

Manners too. Even better.
“Willie, this is Eli Watkins. He’s gonna be breakin’ in the new arrivals.” Jackson turned to Eli to finish the introductions. “Watkins, this is Willie. He’ll be workin’ with ya. Boy’s already got a way with the beasts, an’ I was thinkin’ you might be able to teach him a thing or two.”

“Good to meet ya, Mr. Watkins, sir,” Willie said brightly, tipping his hat at Eli.

“Mr. Watkins is my pa,” Eli replied. “I look forward to workin’ with ya.”

Willie flushed red, and Eli bit back a smile, not wanting to embarrass the boy further.

“C’mon.” Jackson slapped Eli on the shoulder. “Bunkhouse is this way.”

The bunkhouse was behind the corral: a sturdy wooden structure with an open kitchen and dining area. A small corridor led to the sleeping quarters. Eli gazed around him, taking in the ornaments on the wall and the scent of strong coffee filling the room. An older man stood at the stove, stirring something in a large saucepan.

“Bradley,” Jackson said. “This here is Eli Watkins.”

Bradley wiped his hands on a piece of cloth and nodded at Eli. “Heard good things about ya, son. Jackson’s talked ya up a storm since he got back from Dallas.” His gaze slid over Eli from head to toe and he pulled a face. “Yer too skinny. When did ya last eat?”

“Day before yesterday, thereabouts.”

Bradley motioned to the huge wooden table in the center of the room. “Sit. I’ll git ya some vittles while the two of ya talk. The boys’ll be in from the field soon, and then it’ll get real loud around here.”

Eli sat down at the table and pushed his saddlebags under his chair. As the aromatic smell of the beef stew Bradley put in front of him drifted into his nostrils, Eli was pretty sure he was gonna like it here. Getting to work with horses all day, a roof over his head, three squares, and enough money to send extra home to his mama—what could possibly be bad about that?

A couple of hours later, after they’d eaten dinner, dealt with the dishes, and he’d been introduced to the rest of the hands, Eli retired to the barn. The men had seemed like the usual mixed bunch you found on a spread like this—men working to send money to their families, rovers who spent their lives flitting from one spread to another, and the occasional deadbeat who only worked to support their gambling or drinking habits. Eli had met them all in his time. They tended to band together in little groups, and the men on Somerfield land were no different. For the most part, Eli liked to keep to himself, so he was relieved not to be in the bunkhouse with the others.

Jackson had informed him the bunkhouse was overflowing, so he would have to make do with the barn—for the time being, at least. He had assured Eli that there would be a place for him once the rovers moved on after they drove the horses and cattle to Dallas, but Eli didn’t care. Surrounded by the scents and sounds of the ranch was where he was most comfortable.

His mama had called him her lone cowboy, although, squashed in a tiny wooden shack with eight brothers and sisters, moments alone had been few and far between. The thought of making idle conversation with a bunch of rowdy ranch hands after working himself into exhaustion was not his idea of a good time. He’d rather be with the horses.

He lounged with his back against the wooden jamb of the pitching door, legs stretched out in front of him and hat pulled down to shield his eyes as the sun slowly began its descent. The early evening rays cast lengthening shadows around the hayloft, and he inhaled the rich, earthy scent of the bales, then let his breath out on a long, contented sigh.

Eli gazed at the main house and marveled at the folly of men with more than two cents in their pocket. He’d heard about the Somerfield Ranch from one of the rovers on the last spread he’d worked. Heard all about how Somerfield wanted to make his ranch the biggest in San Antone. Hell, the biggest in the whole United States, if he had his way. But staring at the house, a million miles away from the shack he’d been brought up in, it was obvious to Eli that Richard Somerfield had no idea what a ranch house was supposed to look like. Instead of a one-story building like the ones he’d encountered before, the big boss’s home resembled a mix of mausoleum, Mexican hacienda, and a barber shop he’d once seen in Chicagee, except the columns weren’t striped. And there ain’t no hot shave for a nickel.

Snickering quietly to himself, Eli tossed his hat onto the nearest bale and rubbed his hands through his hair, grimacing at the dust flying around him. He scratched at his scalp with blunt nails and moaned softly in disgust as his own stench came up to meet him. He’d have to talk to the foreman and find out if there were any baths in town or a creek where he could clean himself of his journey. The way he stank at the moment would keep the horses awake all night.

“That’s my boy.”

Eli started at the sound of the voice from below the hayloft. He turned over onto his belly, crawled across the hay to the edge of the loft, and peered down into the barn. A man led a beautiful black horse into one of the stalls and proceeded to take off the animal’s tack. Cursing the fact that he couldn’t see the man’s face, Eli watched the gentle ripple of muscles beneath the sweat-dampened cotton shirt sticking to the stranger’s flesh. His gaze traveled lower, over the curve of the most perfect peach of an ass he had ever seen, snug in what looked like deerskin breeches. Eli climbed down the ladder from the hayloft as quietly as he could and stood just out of sight in the darkening gloom of the barn. He strained to get closer to the man who was now checking the magnificent animal’s legs and feet.

The man handled the horse with confidence and a gentle hand. Eli was impressed with the way the man kept up a stream of soft whisperings to the beast as he ran his hands over muscled legs and lifted each hoof in turn. It was the sign of a natural horseman. Eli watched in silence as the object of his fascination turned to hang the bridle on the hook beside the stall. He couldn’t contain his gasp at the glimpse of the square jaw when the cowboy stretched his arms high above his head.

Like honey fresh from the hive. Wonder if he tastes as good as he looks?

Eli had known at a very early age that girls didn’t appeal to him. He knew he was supposed to grow up, meet a nice girl, and have a ranch of his own. But when he’d dreamed of sharing those things with someone, his imagination hadn’t conjured up a simpering girl. His dreams had been of a man with a pretty face and an ass that would fill his palms as he buried himself inside it. Of course, it was against the law—of God and man, people said. But the way he figured it, all he wanted was someone to love and to love him back. How could God be against that? As far as he knew, not one of the Ten Commandments said, “Thou shalt not suck dick.” No longer satisfied with watching, Eli ventured closer and heard the man whisper again to the horse.

“So beautiful.”

Before he could stop himself, Eli said, “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

He could have kicked himself. Stupid, Eli. Real stupid. But when the man spun around, all Eli could do was stare. The movement caused the man’s hat to fall to the ground, and hair the color of burnished gold tumbled onto broad shoulders and fell into eyes the color of coffee beans. A straight nose and full lips, together with a strong jaw and square chin, completed the handsomest face Eli had ever seen outside of those picture postcards Matt Scogie had shown him at the harvest fair.

“Who the blazes are you? What are you doing on this property?” the cowboy snapped, his chin lifting haughtily as he stared Eli down.

“I work here.” Eli crossed his arms and leaned against the stall, lifting his hand to caress the silky black nose of the horse as it came to investigate.

“No you don’t” was the caustic reply. “I know everyone who works here. And I don’t know you.”

“I was hired today, to help break in the new horses, so I guess you don’t know as much as you think you do.”

Eli could tell by the shocked look in those eyes that the man wasn’t used to anyone talking back to him, which intrigued Eli even further. In fact, something in those eyes urged him on, wanting to see what sort of reaction he could get out of the other man. He saw the frustration in darkening eyes, and Eli let his gaze slowly travel the length of the long, lean body, his lips curving into an impudent smile.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Somerfield?”

Somerfield? Shit! Eli flicked a glance over his shoulder at the sound of the foreman’s voice, wondering if he was going to get fired before he’d even started. He was pleasantly surprised when, instead of ratting on him, the cowboy shook his head.

“Everything’s fine, Jackson.” He tossed a cold look Eli’s way, and Somerfield’s perfectly straight nose wrinkled in disgust. “Although there is the all-pervading odor of dead skunk in here. Maybe you could direct the new hand to some soap and water before the stink reaches the house.”

“That’d be the stink of hard work, boss. Dead skunk’s a little earthier,” Eli drawled, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

“I’m not your boss. My name is Samuel Somerfield,” the pretty cowboy said curtly. “And you’ll do well to remember that.”

Watching the man walk away with his head held high, Eli couldn’t resist shouting after him. “Oh, I’ll remember… that won’t be no problem at all.

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Tuesday, 5 January 2016


Today's guest is the lovely Bronwyn Heeley with her newest release in the Moonlit Wolves series, Moonlit Escapades....

Moonlit Escapades (Moonlit Wolves 7.5)

TITLE:Moonlit Escapades
SERIES:Moonlit Wolves
AUTHOR(s): Bronwyn Heeley
ISBN #:978-1-4874-0539-7
WORD COUNT: 12,484
CATEGORY/TAG: Paranormal LGBT+ Romance
COUPLING: male male


There is never a time when a visit from old friends isn’t comforting.

Ever wonder how Jex and Matt ended up in that compromising position in book 4?Or what the fight between Phil and Craig was about? Or how about how they all became so close and ended up living together?
Well, here’s your chance. All the missing pieces that were linked but not fully explained are bundled together in this heart-warming anthology, and just in time for Christmas, because who doesn’t like to visit from family at this time of year.
Note: series must be read in order, but these shorts can be read separately, they’ll just be enjoyed more as companions.



Jex let out a sigh of relief as he sat back into the lounge. Matt and he hadn’t been in this house for a long time, but he had definitely felt more at home quicker than at any of the other place his father took him.
However, his dad hadn’t been the kindest person, and they’d moved from one town to the next, leaving many people hating him because of what his father had done. Matt, with a quick kidnapping and a much-needed getaway, brought Jex to this lovely little town out in the boondocks, an unlikely place his father would never bother to look.
They’d reached town and a house full to the brim with men. Matt’s cousin and a bunch of mates had taken them both in and treated Jex like no one had done before Matt.
Jex loved the freedom of being himself, even if they all turned out to be a werewolf every time the moon was full. A lot to take in, but he had seen a lot of violence and bullshit in his life, so the werewolf factor seemed like a cakewalk.
In addition, he’d personally seen Matt change, so who was he to say something didn’t exist?
A cold bottle tapped on his shoulder, making Jex look over his shoulder. He took the bottle.
Taking a long drink of this piss-shit that the bottle label said was beer, he studied Matt. His lover rounded the couch and sat down next to him. Jex wasn’t a fan of Tooheys, he was more a VB man, but beggars couldn’t be choosers—or, more for him, lazy arses deserved to drink horse piss. He was, however, a fan of the man—tall, blonde, with deep-set eyes. He was like a walking wet dream. Someone who needed to be naked and fucking so everyone would see his true beauty.
He was a fucking dream. Jex’s dream. Even if it had taken the guy a couple of turns to realise just how Matt liked it when Jex fucked him and then give him more than he’d ever understood he wanted. Jex reckoned it came from the fact that he hadn’t ever been free to actually fuck another person before Matt.
 “Taste like shit?” Matt chuckled next to him.
For the first time in a long time—and yet not a first for the thought—Jex wondered what he saw in a man who actually liked this shit.
 “Why ask when you know the answer,” Jex spat back at him around another mouthful of beer. He was hoping if he drank it fast enough and got the buzz of beer in his system, it might actually start tasting nice.
Matt shook his head really slowly. That you’re fucking crazy shake, though the twitch of his lips held the joke.
 “Fucking arse,” Jex muttered, finishing off his first bottle with a cringe—Fuck! This shit was bad.
Matt chuckled again. “Ah, but that’s what you love ‘bout me.”
Jex shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips at the words, only his mouth hadn’t even completed the move before Matt’s lips covered his. The move Jex had been waiting for finally came. He snickered softly into Matt’s mouth. They were alone after all.
 “It makes me feel all gooey inside to see you smile like that, and knowing it’s all mine... gets me hot as hell,” Matt whispered, a breath away from Jex’s lips.
Jex’s back arched at the scrape of whiskers against his upper lip. “Gooey?” Jex tried to make it a joke, not being able to deal with the softer sides of love.
 “Oh, yeah,” Matt moaned theatrically. “It’s like melted lava inside me, mate.”
 “So you’re a cooked marshmallow?” Jex muttered between the light kisses Matt was giving him. He needed more than the teasing. Already his skin was hot, his cock throbbed. He hated the teasing. Jex needed more... rubbing, thrusting, harder!
“Cooked Marshmallow?” Matt pulled back, apparently, finally, thinking around his own cock to what Jex had said.
 “Shut up, man.” Jex laughed. “How can I think with my cock this hard?”
Matt burst out into laughter. Jex shifted back as Matt’s weight transferred onto his knees, since he’d straddled Jex sometime during the kiss.


I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours... da dadadadum, author of MM romance

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Wednesday, 23 December 2015


Hello my lovelies!

I know I've been a bit absent of late, but the muse may well have woken up in time for the New Year! But ssssh, in case she changes her mind and slinks back into hibernation. I know she kept me up last night orchestrating a threesome between a sire and his two sire-ees (I just made that up)!

The last of the presents are waiting to be wrapped (mega organised this year - so no panicked Christmas Eve wrapping for once or screaming at the kids if they happen to wander in on said wrappage) and the air is starting to buzz with excitement. The kids are practically vibrating and I must admit, I'm feeling a little frisson myself as it's the first Christmas me and my honey will be spending together. Even so, with all the bouncing going on around here, I thought I'd better sit down and give you all a heads up about the plan for 2016.

First on the agenda is the release of Before Sundown on the 4 January by Dreamspinner.

Blurb: Samuel Somerfield is used to the oppressive heat of the Texas plains, and in the year 1892 things get even hotter when ranch hand Eli Watkins walks onto the job. Every stolen glance, every searing touch from Eli tilts Samuel’s world on its axis. He wants only to spend the rest of his life in Eli’s arms. But Samuel’s cruel and domineering father has other plans for him. Samuel must marry Eleanor Johnston and give his father the social standing he craves. 

Eli knew falling in love with Samuel would cause problems, yet even he never dreamed Mr. Somerfield would go to such lengths to keep his son and him apart. After Somerfield orders a beating that leaves Eli disfigured and embarrassed, Eli takes a job on another ranch far from Samuel. 

News of Samuel’s impending wedding eventually reaches Eli, and he realizes he must return to the man he loves, despite what might await him, and try to save Samuel from a life he was not meant to live.

This book has been a long time coming and sometimes I thought it would never be finished - but it's almost here and is very close to my heart. I hope you all like it :)

I also have a sequel to Thirst in the pipeline. In it, we will find out more about Lyle's story and whether or not he will find the happiness he was denied by Boyd all those years ago.
The re-vamping (did you see what I did there?) of Forever Dusk is almost done, too and will hopefully be release in January. In it we discover that Sebastian and Jonah were sired by the same vampire and the possible discord this may cause when the man himself shows up - because no vampire is able to refuse his maker's desires and he wants them both.

Both covers are made by the fabulous Kellie Dennis of Book Cover by Design

I also re-visit the wonderful city of Venice where my romance, Solo Honeymoon is set. When Theo is dumped by his fiance two days before their wedding, he wants to curl up under the duvet and never come out. His family, however, has other ideas and he finds himself on the three week honeymoon he'd already paid for - alone. There he meets Matteo, beautiful, charming and he's not so sure the man he was going to marry was the soulmate Theo thought he was. 
There's also the germ of an idea about a man whose son is kidnapped and the mercernary he hires to find him.

Plus the niggling at the back of my brain pushing me to tell the story of the tennis pro who finds himself the target of a crazed stalker.

Hell... maybe we'll even pop in on Aiden and Finn to see what they're up to... who knows. And don't forget there'll be more Left at the Crossroads coming soon.

Wow - I'm going to be busier than I thought!

So my lovelies - I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a fab New Year, and look forward to seeing you all in 2016!!!