Sunday, 5 July 2015



Little Mowbury is a sleepy English village deep in the Cotswolds. The kind of village where you’re only a local if your lineage can be traced back to the dinosaurs. Where you can find everything in the single village shop from morning newspapers to dry-cleaning, and getting your shoes mended. And, of course, where everybody knows everybody else’s business. It’s easy to find… you can’t miss it… just ask anyone and they’ll tell you… “It’s left at the crossroads.”
Oliver Bradford has had enough of the hustle and bustle of the A&E department in a big city hospital. Not to mention the tension caused by the break-up of his three year relationship with one of the hospital’s top surgeons. When his sister urges him to apply for the position of GP in the quiet village of Little Mowbury, he wonders if this might be just the fresh start he needs. Unfortunately, hitting the post-mistresses’ dog with his car isn’t the best introduction to his patients.

A solitary soul, Deano Wells grew up in Little Mowbury and has been having lunch at the Thatcher’s Arms on a Thursday for the last thirty-five years. First with his father, who brought him to the pub at the tender age of ten after a hard morning in the fields, and then by himself after his father passed on. He runs the farm with a practised hand and minds his business mostly, but that doesn’t stop Oliver from being drawn to the big, quiet man and he knows the feeling is mutual, so why does Deano keep pushing him away?


Oliver grinned widely as he passed the sign welcoming visitors to the village and may have stepped on the gas a little heavier in his eagerness—which was when the large brown shape leapt out in front of the car.
“Holy fuck!” Oliver yelled as the brown thing hit the bonnet then bounced off onto the ground and skidded a few feet along the lane before him. He slammed on his brakes and turned the wheel, nose-planting the car into a bush in his effort to avoid hitting whatever it was again. Yanking on the handbrake, Oliver opened the door and all but threw himself out of the car, taking off at a run towards the bundle on the road. “It’s a deer, it’s just a deer,” he mumbled to himself as he skidded to a halt in front of the furry body. A weak whine and a pair of deep brown eyes staring out of a mop of russet fur confirmed he would never make a vet. It wasn’t a deer. Unless the deer in these parts wore studded collars with the name Hugo on a bone shaped metal tag. “Oh shit.”
Oliver took in the blood on the dog’s thick fur and the rapid rise and fall of its chest and wondered what the fuck he was supposed to do. You’re a doctor in the emergency department, knob-head. This is an emergency. Do emergency things! The thought skittered across his brain and, thankfully, his medical training kicked in. He bent down and slid his hands under the dog’s body, hoping it didn’t decide to bite him, not that he’d have blamed it, then squared his shoulders and lifted it into his arms. The dog whimpered but didn’t attempt to snap, so Oliver spun on his heel and carried it to the car as quickly, but as carefully, as he could.
Thanking his lucky stars the weather was warm and the top was down, Oliver deposited the dog on the back seat without opening the door. When he released the animal, his hands left smears of blood on the cream leather, but he pushed the sight to the back of his mind. He could freak out about the upholstery later. Scrambling back behind the wheel, Oliver gunned the engine and put his foot down, wanting to get to Little Mowbury as fast as he could. Hugo didn’t look good and every bump in the road produced a low whine from the back seat. Oliver was no vet, but even he knew that didn’t bode well.
The village suddenly appeared as if by magic around the third bend and Oliver’s gaze flitted from side to side, searching for someone, anyone, to help him. The street was deserted and he was becoming frantic when he realised the sign hanging outside the pub was waving in the warm afternoon breeze. If you pass pub you’ve gone through village. The pub. It was nearly two by the dashboard LCD and Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. There had to be someone in the pub at this time of day.
The car screeched to a halt in the gravel strewn car park behind the pub and he left the engine running as he ran for the entrance to the public bar. It was like being in an eighties horror movie. Conversation stopped and everyone turned to stare at him as he stood panting in the doorway. Oliver hurriedly scanned the bar but there was no one behind it. He didn’t see any other option, so took a deep breath and blurted out something that, ironically, could have come straight out of any Carry On film. “Is there a vet in the house?”
Not a single sound could be heard. No one answered him they merely stared back at him as though he were completely mad, which Oliver felt was completely understandable. Although it was not exactly the way he’d wanted to be introduced to the village. He was about to shout in frustration when the scraping of a single chair being pushed back echoed around the bar.
“Nearest vet’s half hour away,” a gruff voice replied. “I can take a look.”
Oliver had a quick glimpse of dark blond hair and broad shoulders as he yelled, “I need you outside, quick.” He didn’t even stop for acknowledgement, simply ran back out to the car, hoping the owner of the voice would follow. At the car he murmured nonsense to the dog and stroked its head gently, turning when the crunch of footsteps on the gravel behind him heralded the arrival of the—shit—entire pub.
“What happened?” Big and Tall, who also had to be at least six and a half feet tall, asked as he nudged Oliver out of the way.
“He ran out in front of me,” Oliver explained, being jostled from behind by villagers trying to get a look into the back seat. “I didn’t see him. I couldn’t stop.” He heard Big and Tall’s gasp as the man soothed the injured animal. “What?” he asked, his panic rising. “What is it?” Before Big and Tall could answer, a gravelly voice from behind him yelled:
“Blow me down, he’s only gone an’ killed Doris’ Hugo!”

Available now at,, Smashwords and ARe

Wednesday, 24 June 2015


On Lisa's Ramblings today is the living proof that wonderfully beautiful things come in small packages!

My good friend Kellie Kamryn is here to share her upcoming release, Sin of Submission - Book 2 in the Sin City Series.

I love Kellie's writing and highly recommend everything she's written - even her shopping list is a gripping! Make sure you don't miss out!


UFC fighter, Megan Renard, is having a difficult time keeping her eye on the prize when she can’t keep her eyes off of her long-time trainer, Ryan Blake. But changing a relationship that works isn’t a sin she’s prepared to pay penance for.
Dom Ryan desires to experience Megan’s gift of submission, yet he knows taking their relationship to another level could have disastrous effects for her fighting career, not to mention their friendship. One kiss is all it takes to convince him that heaven in her arms is worth the devil’s wrath.
Determined to give her an edge in the ring before her next title fight, Ryan hires Sinclair Reed to train Megan in internal martial arts. When the FBI show up to question Sinclair on the disappearance of Megan’s opponent,  the couple get caught up in a world of underground mob clubs, and Ryan comes face to face with a Domme he’d long tried to forget. Now he fights to protect Megan not only from a lifestyle he chose to leave, but from her desire to please him at all costs.

When it’s a fight for your life, submission is a sin.


“Tie me up?” Nervous excitement skittered through her system, amping up her arousal, and causing wet heat to gather between her thighs.
In for a penny, as they say… A slow nod accompanied her agreement. “Yes, but before you do, may I do something?”
“What would you like?”
“I’d like to touch you. Everywhere.” Eyeing his ripped torso like a medium rare steak, she licked her lips, and stepped toward him.
He gestured arms wide. “By all means…”
Tentative, wishing to savor the moment, her fingertips hovered over his pecs, sparks sizzling where she touched. She traced a pattern down his chest and abs, she knew she’d never want to touch another man again. The bumps and ridges of his muscle mixed with the sensation of a smattering of hair on the middle of his chest.
Sexual awareness heightened. Her body grew achy, hot, and goose bumps broke out on her skin. Shivering, her hands drifted over his waist, then toyed with the waist band of his pants. Ryan took the liberty of removing his track pants, revealing a bulging cock encased in navy blue boxer briefs.
Chewing her lower lip, she eyed the hidden prize.
Ryan leaned forward to nuzzle her neck, the sensation of his hot breath on her skin causing a shudder to race down her spine. “Anything else you want to touch?” The deep rumble of his voice speared her cunt with lust.
She nodded, and reached out with one hand, tracing the outline of his cock first with a fingertip, then a line along his length, under to tickle the underside of his sac, and cup his balls. Bolder now, she ran the heel of her hand back over his erection, noting how it pulsed under her touch.
Fascinated with her exploration, Ryan’s gentle command made her jump. Obeying, she dropped her hands to her sides, and waited for his next move. When he slipped off his briefs, she couldn’t help but drop to her knees in front of him. She’d never wanted to suck on a man’s cock more in her life. Her hands hovered, shaking with the urge to grab his shaft and stroke it before sliding the length into her mouth.
“Oh, Megan…”
She glanced up at him to see a look of utter tenderness on his face. He ran his hand over her head, cradling the back of her skull for a second. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s just…you…on your knees… Damn.”
A grin consumed her face. He’s pleased then. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. Why did it matter to her so much that he would be pleased with their interaction? Was it because she was used to taking his instruction? Or did she fear not being the kind of lover he was used to?
Maybe because it does mean so much more to me. To both of us. By the look on his face, he didn’t mind in the least. And they meant a hell of a lot more to each other than fuck buddies.
Focusing her attention on his cock, her mouth watered, and she licked her lips. Without hesitation, she grabbed the base of his shaft, and licked a path from base to tip. Ryan groaned, then stepped back from her ministrations.
Surprised and disappointed, she blinked at him.
“Later,” he said. “For now, rest your hands palms up on the back of your thighs.”
Bewildered, she did as he said.
“Good girl. Spread your thighs a bit.”
Once again, she did as he asked, and she observed a shudder ripple his tall frame. “This is position one. Try to remember that.”
“Okay.” She nodded, then took the hand he offered.
He helped her stand, then brushed his lips across hers. “This is about you right now, remember?” he murmured.
“If you insist.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tight, kissing him back with equal passion.
Ryan backed her toward the bed, then lay her down with her head on the pillows. His hands slithered up her ribcage and arms until he held her wrists in his hands. He stared into her eyes, waiting for her to agree. When she nodded in approval, he used the scarves to tie each wrist to one of the bars on the metal headboard.
“Thank you.” His sincere gratitude, calmed the frisson of panic that rose up inside. She’d never been at another’s mercy like this. Exposed in a way she’d never been before, she trembled. Ryan smiled down at her, and placed a tender kisses to her forehead, nose and lips. “Relax,” he said. “Trust me.”

About Kellie:

Award-winning author Kellie Kamryn is a retired elite gymnast and competitive coach. These days she is captain of her crew of four wearing many a hat: chauffeur, cook, maid, and arm chair psychologist, although her favorite title, and the one she answers to most, is “Mom”. Even with her busy life, she creates time for Baguazhang training twice a week, a challenging martial art form.

While her friends would describe her as sweet, her readers know she’s got a sassy side, and with fourteen books and one anthology to her credit since 2011, most days she can be found channeling her sass into writing stories and poetry that sweep readers away into other worlds. When her muse requires a break, she channels her creative energy into bringing many a tale to life through her work as a narrator.

Winner of the RONE (Reward of Novel Excellence) Award for Best Erotica 2012, Kellie is also a workshop presenter, and motivational speaker, having presented at the Moonlight and Magnolias GRWA Conference in 2011. One of her latest books, Sugar Daddy Wanted: Now Accepting Applications, has been nominated for Best Novella in the RONE Awards for 2013.

Readers are welcome to join her on Facebook in her Sweet & Sassy Divas and Dudes group! It’s the first place she mentions contests, articles and much, much more! Come join in the fun! And don't forget to check out her website at

Kellie is also a former columnist for Evolved World, now writing for The Aquarian Online, a Winnipeg print and e-zine dedicated to inspiring and bringing enlightenment to individuals.  

And don't forget, you can get Book 1, Guilty as Sin right HERE

Friday, 12 June 2015


What does a horny, bisexual, triplet, father of one do to blow off some steam? Go to the most infamous sex club in Atlanta, that’s what! Avery Myer was the responsible, dependable, reliable… too many ‘bles’ in his opinion. So when his little boy Peg decided to spend the night at a friend’s house, Avery decided it was time to have a night of nasty, dirty anonymous man sex and lord knows he needed it! 

Martin Gaither knew if his sister Nan found out where he was going, she would disapprove. She would say he was looking for love in all the wrong places and he’d reminded her that he hadn’t had any luck finding love in the right places. So why not forgo love and jump on lust instead? Not like he was going to find love at Hobbins Gym and Sauna! 

Mathew Ortiz has a new release and it's fabulous! I sent Matt some questions and he graciously answered them... let's see what he had to say...

1. Are you a pantster or a plotter?

    Definitely a pantster. I tried plotting but found myself disliking its constraints. Seat of the       pants is my preference and I have changed an entire book halfway through because I           thought it should be going in a different way.

2. Where do you get your titles from?

    The Butcher, the Baker, the Custom Bike Maker come from the nursery rhyme. Most of         my titles come easy for me. Only three stumped me. Nutbusters (My partner Tim still             hates that title), Uncommon Ground and Eli’s Three Wishes. I’m still not one hundred           percent behind them. The Oswald’s titles come from the Latin words for the seven deadly     sins.

3. Who is your favourite character in your new release, and why?

    I am in love with Boone Myer. He is the loud, out there part of my personality, who is             braver than me and who I hope to be one day. He says what’s on his mind and is                   completely honest. He loves his brothers, his family and is an unabashed horn dog. He is     an unfettered soul that is waiting for true love.

4. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, do you find different bands work better for         different types of scenes, and who do you listen to the most?

    I like Hozier right now and Sam Smith. I am a fan of Queen and Aerosmith. I listen to             them when I write the Oswalds. And I still love listening to Bond and Kate Rusby when I       need romantic inspiration. Oh Annie Lennox’s Diva: then, now and forever.

5. Have you always wanted to be a writer? Or was there another profession you wanted to       follow while you were growing up?
    I wrote some poetry in college and have loved writing. When going for my bachelors in         nursing, it seemed all I did was write. But in all honesty I never planned on being a writer.     What writing does is give me a creative outlet in my life now. I wanted to go into interior         design and space planning in my youth. I like making places beautiful and make people         smile.  I was going to go to DePaul University in Chicago and study art but I wasn’t able       to attend. Who knows what might have been?

6. If you could visit any country in the world, which one would you choose?

    If I could pick one right now, it would be New Zealand. I’ve always wanted to go and see       the rawness of its countryside.

7. How do you overcome writer’s block?

    I walk away from a manuscript for a few days or longer. I write part-time and so if nothing     is flowing, I take some downtime. I find watching my favourite movies or cooking helps         unlock my brain. I funnel the creative side of me in other ways. I make a delectable Peach     Cobbler!

8. Do you have a set writing timetable for yourself?

    I used too in the beginning. Two months total turn around for a 150 page piece of work.         However I found myself, between writing and working spending less time with my partner     and my family. So I kind of took six months off and decided to only put our maybe three         books a year from now on.

9. What advice would you give to a writer just starting out? And was there a particular piece     of advice you were given yourself that you remember?

    If you’re just starting out, make friends with other writers. You can learn so much from           them and don’t be closed off to criticism.  It hurts at first but if it is from an honest source       take it. Also, develop a thick skin. My first one star review sent me into a pit of darkness       for days. Why didn’t they like my writing? Why don’t they like me, is what I was really             thinking. I had to toughen up and fast. It comes down to the point, you can’t make                 everybody happy.

10. Finally... if you could have a dinner party and invited five people, living or dead, who           would they be?

    My father (who I never told I was gay before he passed on. I regret not letting him know         the real me), Elizabeth Sladen (the best companion, hands down), Edgar Allen Poe (My       first journey into darkness), Hayao Miyazaki (director of Howl’s Moving Castle and                 Spirited away. His take on the world is nothing short of brilliant) and Dawn French (I’m a       big fan).

Make sure you get your copy of The Butcher, it's a sweet love story with a host of colourful characters, a must read :)

It's available from Amazon now!

Sunday, 24 May 2015


I found this little short on an old USB, and thought I'd share it here...

Mack stood at the window and gazed across the field. The sun had broken through the clouds and cast an almost angelic glow upon the waving grass. He wished he had his camera with him so he could capture the moment forever, but it had been broken three weeks ago when—
He turned and his heart skipped a beat as Aaron walked into the room. Even after all this time the mere sight of him still made Mack’s pulse quicken and his breath hitch in his throat.
“Hey yourself,” Mack replied softly, watching as Aaron lowered his muscled frame into the chair, his gaze downcast, avoiding looking directly at Mack.
He knew this was hard for Aaron. How could it not be? It wasn’t exactly easy for him either. But there was no other choice. The decision had already been made—this was the only way it could end.
“I'm sorry about last night,” Aaron's mumbled, lips curved in a rueful smile. “You always said I was the mature one—not. I guess I’ve proved you right in more ways than one over the last few weeks.”
“This is so hard, man.” Aaron cut him off. “I wish you’d just tell me what I'm supposed to say.” He ran a hand through his hair, which looked as though it could do with a wash and Mack frowned as he noted Aaron still wore yesterday's clothes. Not that he would say anything. After all, wasn’t he the cause of Aaron’s pain?
“We both know this is the right thing, the only thing to do,” Mack murmured. He wanted to kiss him so badly but knew he couldn't, not now.
Aaron clasped his hands together between his knees and his hazel eyes filled with tears. His voice cracked when he began to speak and the sound of it broke Mack’s heart.
“I know this is the right thing, I do,” Aaron said, throat thick with emotion he could no longer hold back. “But I thought we were gonna make it, you know? We were supposed to be together forever.”
“Me too,” Mack whispered. “But we can't… not now.” Mack laid his cheek against the top of Aaron's head and his heart swelled as Aaron leaned into his touch. They stayed like that for a few minutes then Mack took a deep breath and moved away, back to the window.
“Come on, Al,” Mack urged. “It’s all on you now. You can do this.”
The tears ran freely down Aaron’s face but Mack felt a surge of pride as Aaron stood up and squared his shoulders before he closed the distance between them.
Oh God. This is it. We're really gonna do this. It was hard to swallow past the lump in his own throat at Aaron’s approach.
“I will always love you.”Aaron took his hand and bent to press a tender kiss to Mack’s lips.
“And I you,” Mack whispered, blinking back the tears.
He watched the scene from the window as Aaron sank back onto the plastic hospital chair, his shoulders shaking with the force of his grief. Mack watched as his and Aaron's families filed slowly into the room, the doctor close behind them.
Mack stared at himself in the bed—wishing he could feel Aaron's fingers on his as the doctor turned off the machine that had kept his heart pumping since the accident three weeks ago. When it was done the doctor silenced the continuous beep and Mack’s stomach tightened at the weight of the hand on his shoulder. But his fear was short-lived when he was soothed by the gentle voice and soft smile of the elderly woman beside him as she took his hand. He cast one more glance at Aaron and felt their love wash through him.

One day they’d meet again, but now it was his time to say goodbye.

Friday, 15 May 2015

MM Romance Meeting - Italy 2015

Saturday 9 May was the first MM Romance Meeting in Italy and my bestie, Sue Brown and I were very lucky to experience it first hand. The event was put together by Barbara Cinelli, owner of Triskell Edzioni and Emanuela Piasentini of Dreamspinner Italia. They did a beautiful job and I know there will be many more to come.

I've been to conventions before but this was an altogether different experience. The warmth and passion of the readers was overwhelming. And I met some Facebook friends face to face - it was lovely. The response to our stories left us both speechless and in total awe. We even managed to pull off a panel with the help of the lovely Emanuela handling the translation of the questions and answers. And when one of the attendees thanked us for writing because our stories for her were like breathing, I was just stunned. For me, to know what I do has touched someone in that way... well, it's everything.

I think my favourite answer of the con has got to be when one of the lovely attendees in response to the question we get asked the most, "Why do you read MM romance?" said, "I like chocolate and I don't have to justify it - and I like MM romance, so why should I justify that?"

We were also able to meet some uber-talented Italian authors.
Cristina Bruni, who was the sweetest person I've ever met. Amarilli Settantatre Moro and Valerio la Martire.
It was so nice to meet other authors from our genre whom we wouldn't have met if it were not for the meeting. And I don't think I'm alone in saying it would be wonderful to see their work translated into English, just as ours is being translated into Italian!

Also on the guest list was the lovely Elisa Rolle LGBT couples through the ages and I know it's been a labour of love for her. And you can get your copy HERE!

Her passion and commitment to the genre is amazing. And she is one of the coolest people I know.

She is a steadfast supporter of the LGBT community and also runs the annual Rainbow Awards.

We also met Francesco D'Alessio and Matteo Rocchi, the due behind the Italian G&T Webseries headed a brilliant panel.

They're obviously incredibly passionate about their art and have sunk every penny they have into it, writing, directing, filming etc by themselves.

I have watched the first season since I got home and I loved it! Please do the clicky thing on the link and check it out. You won't regret it - and there are subtitles!

They have also filmed a fabulous spot for marriage equality which you can find on YouTube! 

It was a fantastic day and I am so glad I was able to be a part of it!

Needless to say, we couldn't leave Venice without doing the tourist bit, including the waterbus, San Marco and The Basilica. The artwork and architecture was breathtaking and I can't wait to go back!

So, a big thank you again to everyone who made us feel so welcome and to Barbara for inviting us - it was a weekend I'll never forget.

Thursday, 7 May 2015


A big welcome to M J O'Shea who is stopping by on her wonderful blog tour for her new release, Family Jewels! Before we start, I asked M J a few questions....

1.            Are you a pantster or a plotter?

Definitely a plotter! There’s always room for changes and improvements on the original plot, but I find half the fun is sitting there with a blank sheet of paper mapping out what’s going to happen.

2.            Where do you get your titles from?

All over, really. Sometimes I think of a fun title and then make up a story to go with it, sometimes the book is done and I’m STILL trying to think of a title that will fit it perfectly. There are a few titles I’ve never been 100% happy with. I think that happens with any job though.

With Corkscrewed, Family Jewels, and the third one X Marks the Spot, I wanted them to have funny, light titles to reflect the light banter-y nature of the books. The titles came before the plots on those ones, I just knew I wanted it to be a con job on a vineyard, a book about a jewel thief, and a classic treasure hunt:)

3.            Who is your favourite character in your new release, and why?

Actually, lol, I really really like Corbin’s mother. She’s nagging and in his business and wants the best for him, just like a lot of mothers would, but she also happens to be incredibly smart and one of the best thieves in the world. She’s never in scene, most of her role comes in the form of phone calls, but I loved writing her and Corbin’s dialogue.

4.            Do you listen to music while you write? If so, do you find different bands work better for
               different types of scenes, and who do you listen to the most?

I actually can’t. haha. I couldn’t even have music on if I was doing something like this. I spent so many years as a music student and musician that I’m very well trained to pay the most attention to that if it’s available for me to pay attention to. I’ll make playlists to listen to while I’m thinking about the book and plotting in my head, and that’s very effective, but other than that it has to be off.

5.            Have you always wanted to be a writer? Or was there another profession you wanted to
               follow while you were growing up?

Yes, and yes:) I have definitely always wanted to be a writer, but I also wanted to be a professional pianist (nearly went that direction), an archaeologist, a muralist, and a dancer (got WAY too tall for that lol). I also wanted to be Peter Pan, lol. Sometimes I feel sorry for my mother…

6.            If you could visit any country in the world, which one would you choose?

Oh, MAN. I suppose my top answer is easy. Ireland! A lot of my family at the grandparents level was from there and I’ve never been still. Other than Ireland, my next answer is pretty much everywhere. Or Bora Bora. It looks incredibly beautiful.

7.            How do you overcome writer’s block?

The best way for me is to push it and make myself write something. I might chuck every single word I wrote, but it gets the juices flowing again.

8.            Do you have a set writing timetable for yourself?

No, unfortunately. I probably should but I’ve never been very good with schedules. Probably why I enjoy this career so much. I tend to write at night and do more of the other things like blogging and accounting etc during the day.

9.            What advice would you give to a writer just starting out? And was there a particular piece of
               advice you were given yourself that has stuck with you?

I was on my own at first. When I wrote my first book, I didn’t even know this whole community existed. Everything was quite a bit smaller back in 2010 than it is now. I would say get to know people! Obviously writing is the most important part of being a writer, but everything is more fun and interesting if you have people to bounce ideas off of and talk to.

10.          Finally... if you could have a dinner party and invite five people, living or dead, who would
               they be?

Hmmm let’s see. I think Jane Austen is a given. I love her sarcasm and dry wit. Probably Danny Elfman because I’d love to talk about music with him. Neil Gaiman, Drew Barrymore, and Nathan Fillion because they all seem to have great personalities.

Thank you so much for having me stop by! 

Title: Family Jewels

Author: M.J. O’Shea

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: L.C. Chase

Length: 200 Pages

Release Date: 27th April, 2015

Blurb: Corbin Ford, aka the Nightwatchman, named for the antique pocket watches he leaves behind at jobs, has been in the cat-burgling business for years. His father was. His grandfather was. His mother is still one of the most renowned thieves. Corbin likes his high-profile heists, priceless paintings from private collections, artifacts from museums, but his favorite? Jewels. Sparkly, beautiful jewels. If they’re famous, better yet.

Interpol agent Luke Eldridge has one goal and one goal only: to catch the Nightwatchman. Luke’s been after him for months, but getting the slip time and again is getting embarrassing. Luke has never even laid eyes on the bastard, but he’d happily strangle him. And then arrest him.

When Luke meets Corbin, the man of his dreams, he falls hard and fast… only to catch Corbin red-handed with his hand in a jewelry case at the scene of the highest-profile murder that’s rocked the international world in years.

London, March.

“We’ve got something you need to see, Luke. You’d better get over here now.”

Luke Eldridge sighed into his phone. He glanced at the slices of pizza he’d just picked up from a food cart down on the Camden Lock. Looked like there was more cold pizza in his future. Typical. Irritating, but typical.

“Where are you?” Luke asked. He dragged himself off his soft leather couch. It made a disgusting squelching sound. Luke turned and halfheartedly wiped the seat off. He was tired from the run he’d forced himself to take, wet, and starting to chill as heat escaped through his damp T-shirt. The last thing he wanted to do was get back into a suit and go out in the cold he’d just escaped from.

Rob, one of his oldest friends from his days in the FBI academy, rattled off a very upper crust Kensington address.

“Jesus. Is this one going to make the morning press?” Luke asked. People who lived at addresses like that tended to make the news. His job was always harder when he had a ton of panicking socialites breathing down his neck guarding their beloved possessions. He didn’t need them or the news vans outside his crime scene.

“Probably. I’ll try to put it off as long as I can, but you know how it works. Just get your ass over here. Waterman’s on my dick already.”

“Sounds unpleasant.” Luke chuckled under his breath. “Does that surprise you?”

“Not really.”

Didn’t surprise Luke either. Their division chief within Interpol Art Crimes was all about the high profile cases. Art, jewelry, anyone with a Lord or Lady attached to their name. Even the odd Sir here and there. Cases like that were good press for the agency, he always said. Probably more like good for getting his face on the camera. Waterman was a media whore extraordinaire. Usually Luke didn’t care, but when they were in the middle of trying to open a case, it kind of pissed him off.

Luke felt it would be better to deal with the press after they had some solid leads, or, you know, someone in custody, but far be it for him to correct Waterman. He’d spent the last eight years trying to overcome the hereditary American-ness Waterman deemed a deep character flaw. If he started correcting the guy now, he might as well sign his own pink slip.

“I can be there in fifteen minutes. Waterman won’t even be done fixing his hair for the cameras,” Luke told Rob. He was already in his suit pants and shaking out his dress shirt. It felt a little stale from a long day, but he wasn’t going to put on a new one for a late evening call. If all went well, Luke would be back in his sweats and on his couch in less than an hour.

“Try to make it ten. I’m not in the mood to get my skin pulled off a strip at a time.”

He sounded like his typical sarcastic self, but the tone of his friend’s voice was different. Worried, maybe. “What’s going on, Rob? What are you leaving out?”

“There’s something weird about this one. Might cause us a lot of shit in the near future if I’m right.”

“Are you going to tell me or play guessing games?” Luke wasn’t in the mood to play anything. All he wanted to do was eat some still-warm pizza, crawl into bed, and sleep for days—or at least until his alarm went off at six. He’d gotten way too little sleep lately. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep in years.

Rob cleared his throat nervously. “You need to see this for yourself. Just get here, man.”

Luke disconnected the call. He finished dressing, shoved one piece of his pizza on a paper towel, and grabbed his keys. He could eat it on the way without ruining his suit. Even if he spilled, fuck it. Luke wasn’t going to sacrifice one more decent dinner to the cause.

It had rained earlier, and the London streets were still slick and dark, half frozen in the early spring chill, but at least it was quiet. The air was close to freezing, too. Unseasonably low temps, but sadly not by much. After all the years he’d been in London, the winters still got to him, cold and wet, the kind that seemed to creep all the way into the center of his chest—nothing like his childhood home in South Carolina or even Virginia, where he’d lived and worked his first few years out of the academy. Sometimes Luke missed the old optimistic years at Quantico. These days it seemed like the cold was impossible to shake. It seeped into his bones and camped out until nothing he did could warm him through.

I’m getting old.

The stone row houses slipped past, nestled together, dark on the outside like everything else, interiors shining and cheery against the insidious, creeping chill. Everyone who knew better was inside somewhere, enjoying dinner, relaxing with the people they loved. They didn’t look alone. He’d figured long ago his hopes for being one of them had probably passed. Luke loved his job, it was his life, but some nights he wouldn’t mind a break. Luke bypassed their unit’s Westminster offices in favor of going straight to the scene. He didn’t need anything but what he had on him. Hopefully he’d be in and out in time for the late news.

DSP Link:

I’m Mj O’Shea:) I grew up, and still live, in sunny Washington state and while I love to visit other places, I can’t imagine calling anywhere else home.

I spent my childhood writing stories. Sometime in my early teens, the stories turned to romance. Most of those were about me, my friends, and our favorite movie and pop stars. Hopefully, I’ve come a long way since then.

When I’m not writing, I love to play the piano, dance, cook, paint pictures, and of course read! I like sparkly girly girl things, own at least twenty different colored headbands, and I have two little dogs who sit with me when I write. Sometimes they comes up with ideas for me too…when they’re not busy napping.

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