Tuesday, 3 November 2015

Coming 20 November from Juno Publishing - the French translation of Laurel Heights: Enquête à Laurel Heights

Présentation de l'éditeur

Les inspecteurs Scott Turner et Will Harrison sont envoyés en mission d'infiltration après un apparent meurtre/suicide à Laurel Heights, une communauté exclusive gay.
Les deux agents encore dans le placard pourront-ils cacher leur attirance l'un pour l'autre alors que chacun croit que son partenaire est hétéro ? 
Et y a-t-il un tueur parmi eux qui attend de réclamer sa prochaine victime?

Saturday, 24 October 2015

Laura Harner and the Separate Ways series

Hi everybody,

I haven't slept very well in the last few days. Not since the story broke that Laura Harner had plagiarized Becky McGraw's work. Plagiarizm is wrong on every level and there is no excuse for it. Doctors may have the hippocratic oath, well authors - the majority of them anyway - have their own code and abide by it -YOU DON'T PINCH SOMEBODY ELSE'S WORK!

I have remarked on a few threads and am as appalled as everybody else, especially because my name is on one of Harner's books as co-writer. I'm talking about the Separate Ways series which it is alleged has similarities to Abi Roux's Cut and Run series.

I was approached by Harner to write a series as she had been betaing one of my other books and I agreed. I'm not going to lie, this wasn't the most cohesive or pleasant writing experience I've had. The plot was very much governed by Harner and it was much easier to just run with the plotline she threw at me. I was only involved in the first book, Continental Divide. After a falling out with Harner, I was spectacularly thrown under the bus and she bought the characters from me, paid me what royalties were owed me and I went on my merry way, glad to be out of it. In fact I haven't spoken to her since.

I know I'm not the only co-writer she has had and I'm concerned for them, too. Those of you who know me and my work know the type of person I am and I can assure you that the characterization of Jamie is mine and mine alone. Can I say the same for Harner's character? After this week's revelations... I'm not so sure.

Writing is hard people. It's long hours of plotting and outlining and trying to get blood out of a stone when the words won't come. Or days spent screaming in frustration at your characters because you want them to go one way and they're digging in their heels and pushing you in the opposite direction - but I still love it. I know how hard it is and how much of yourself goes into each word so I would never take someone else's work. It's just incomprehensible to me. It's like taking someone's child for god's sake.

My sympathies are with the authors and quite frankly, I think Harner's silence on this issue speaks volumes.

Thursday, 13 August 2015

Step back in time..... Unshakeable Faith!


Of all the bars in all the towns in all the world, the stranger walks into Brody Tyler’s. With no memory and a name he chose from a newspaper, Nash is a gamble—one Brody is willing to take. It isn’t long before Brody and Nash fall in love, but then a tragic accident shatters their cozy world, resetting Nash’s memory once again. 

The “new” Nash Walker is a businessman with a bottom line, and he doesn’t care what or who gets stomped on. Waking up in a hospital bed after a hit-and-run with no idea where he’s been for the past six months is bad enough, but someone trying to kill him is even worse. Enter Brody Tyler, accidental bodyguard. 

Brody’s determined to help Nash remember and bring back the man he loves. Nash thinks Brody’s a drop-dead gorgeous pain in the ass. If only he could remember….

Available from Amazon.com and .co.uk

Wednesday, 5 August 2015


Now out from Dreamspinner, my extended Regency love story.

Threatened by his father with disinheritance, Lord Edwin Nash arrives in London with a sole purpose: to find a wife. A more than eligible bachelor, and titled to boot, the society matrons see to it he’ll be shackled to one of the girls by the end of the season.

During a masquerade ball, Nash hides from the ladies vying for his attention. He is discovered by Lord Thomas Downe, the Duke of Lynwood. Nash is horrified when Downe calmly tells him that he knows the secret that Nash has hidden for years, and that he sees through the mask that Edwin presents to the rest of the world.
And then he offers him an alternative.

Giveaway: $15 giftcard for Amazon or Are.
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“Good evening, Downe.”
Thomas Downe, the present Duke of Lynwood, smiled at the greeting from his friend. “Evening, Leicester. I’m surprised to see you here. The weather has been foul.”
Lord Leicester sat in the high wing-back chair next to his. They were the closest to the fire in the large study, and Downe appreciated the warmth after the chill of the winter’s day. “I was in London to see my solicitor. The rain was so heavy I’ve delayed my return to the country for a day or two. Can’t afford to lose another carriage to the mud.”
“Or the horses,” Downe said.
At the start of the winter, Leicester had been lucky to survive a serious accident after a landslip that had cost him a new carriage and pair.
“Or the horses,” Leicester agreed. “I thought I was going to lose my stable master. He was distraught after the accident. It was only the gift of Gideon’s foal that calmed him down.”
Downe smiled at his friend. “I’m only too pleased to restore calm in your household.”
Gideon was Downe’s prize bay stallion and giving his first foal was no small gift, but then Leicester was no ordinary friend. Downe would have given twice that to have his friend happy and laughing next to him.
Leicester looked speculatively at Downe. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look a little gloomy.”
“I—” Downe expelled a long breath. “I can’t deny I feel a little below par today.”
“For any particular reason?” Leicester smiled and murmured his thanks as a footman brought a pot of coffee and set it at the small table by his elbow.
Downe waited until the footman had poured the coffee and retreated before he answered. “’Twas my birthday a sennight ago.”
“Seven-and-twenty.” Leicester smiled. “I remember.”
“You always remember, my dear friend. You sent me a fine red.”
“More than one, as I recall. But why should that make you gloomy?”
Downe huffed loudly. “The Valentine’s Ball is in a few days.”
Leicester groaned just as loudly. “You think I don’t know? Charlotte and Elizabeth have driven me to distraction with their preparations.”
“They are coming?” Downe was surprised. Leicester’s wife and children spent most of the year in the country, none of them having a taste for Town.
“My eldest grandchild is being presented this year. They will be in town for the season.”
“I had no idea she was old enough to be presented to the king. The last time I saw, she was a mere slip of a thing.” Life was flying by far too quickly for Downe’s liking.
“To me she’s still a mere slip of a thing, as are you, my friend.”
Downe shook his head. “I am getting old, Monty. It is time I took a wife and started a family.”
Leicester frowned. “What brought this on? I thought matrimony was the last thing on your mind.”
“I’m….” Downe trailed off. In truth, the thought of a wife and squalling brats made him feel nauseous, but Leicester knew that as well as he did.
“Lonely?” Leicester suggested gently.
“Sometimes,” Downe agreed.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve been involved with anyone.”
“Over three years aside from the occasional visit to the Blue.”
The end of Downe’s last relationship had been so vicious, it had curdled his desire for another for a while. But “for a while” had extended beyond Downe’s expectations as he had dealt with the loss of his parents and his sister had been widowed and returned to the family household. The Blue, a brothel he had been visiting for many years, satiated his physical desires. The madam was handsomely paid to supply his demands and keep her mouth shut.
Leicester frowned, his green eyes fierce. “You don’t want a wife, Thomas.”
Downe smiled at him. “You only call me Thomas when you think I’m being stupid.”
“Or when we made love.”
Downe didn’t bother to look around to see if anyone was listening. They were in a safe place where they could be honest with each other. “Or when we made love. But that was a long time ago.”
Leicester leaned forward and took Downe’s hand. “Do you need…? We could go upstairs.”
Downe looked at their entwined hands. Despite the fact Leicester was fifteen years older than him, he was one of the most attractive men Downe had ever met, his dark hair graying slightly at the temples and green eyes framed by long lashes. A few years ago, he would have jumped at the opportunity to take Leicester to bed. As a young man, Downe had fallen desperately in love with Leicester, but age had brought wisdom and more than a little resignation. The attraction between them was mutual and occasionally flared into something physical, but they weren’t destined for anything long-term because Leicester’s heart belonged to someone else. Downe accepted their friendship as a blessing because Leicester had shown him how to be the man he was today.
He brushed the back of Leicester’s knuckles. “I am tempted,” he admitted, his voice hoarse in its honesty. “But it wouldn’t help. Not today.”
Leicester pressed a hot kiss into Downe’s palm. “I understand, my friend. I truly do.” He let go of Downe’s hand and sat back to signal for more coffee.
“If your wife is in town, will you be at the dinner tonight?” Downe asked.
“Of course. She has plans to visit my son. His wife is unwell, and she wants to check on her.”
“Will Asher be here?”
Leicester’s face softened as Downe mentioned the name of the man he had loved for over twenty years. They were the owners of the Gentlemen’s Club and an enigma Downe had never cracked. The love between them was passionate and fierce, but as far as everyone knew, they had never consummated it. They both had taken lovers over the years, yet their hearts remained only for each other.
“He will be.”
“I look forward to seeing him.”
Downe had been away from London for many weeks dealing with business interests at his various properties. He’d missed his weekly dinner at  the club and looked forward to reconnecting himself with his friends. “Tell me what’s been happening.”
“Did you hear about Walsey?” Leicester asked.
“He was found balls-deep in some young whore when he should have been in Parliament.”
Downe wrinkled his brow. The Walsey he knew was a terrible bore and someone to avoid at all costs. “Deadly-dull, God-fearing Walsey?”
“The very same.”
“So he can get it up for a young filly. Good for him.”
Leicester’s lips twitched. “It wasn’t a young filly.”
Downe’s eyes opened wide. “He was screwing a boy? The old hypocrite!” Downe had been subject to many a lecture on sodomy when he’d had the misfortune to cross paths with Walsey.
“Caught hook, line, and sinker by his wife.”
“Where is he now?”
Leicester sobered. “He’s in Newgate.”
The amusement slid off Downe’s face. All of them faced the possibility of the same nightmare. Being caught with a man and sentenced to hard labor—or worse.
“What’s going to happen to him?”
“His wife is determined to have her pound of flesh.”
“Is there something we can do?”
“I don’t know, my friend. I really don’t know.”
They both knew that attempting to intervene laid them open to the same kind of charges.
“We should be extra careful,” Downe said.
“I agree, but that doesn’t mean you need to take a wife. Even at your vast age of seven-and-twenty. You have plenty of time to make that decision.”
“You were married with two children by my age,” Downe pointed out.
“Because I knew I could never have Asher.” Leicester gave a wry smile. “My wife is a remarkable woman.”
“She knows.”
It wasn’t a question. Downe had met Leicester’s wife on more than one occasion, and he knew that she was, as Leicester said, a remarkable woman, aware of where her husband’s true heart lay. She accepted it for a stable marriage, a beautiful home, two children, and many dogs. Downe knew that many wives among his acquaintance did the same. He didn’t like imposing that on any woman, but the alternative…. The alternative was Walsey’s fate.

It didn’t stop him being lonely, though.

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 Amazon.com, .co.uk, 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 kelliekamryn.com

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!