Monday, 14 July 2014

Winners of the early Going Under Giveaway :)


The winners of the early Going Under giveaway are:-

RODNEY BATTERMAN

and

KENNETH LARSEN

Congratulations gentlemen, I shall be contacting you by email tout suite.

Thank you everybody for joining in. Don't forget, release date is the
1 August - and there will be another giveaway then :)

Saturday, 5 July 2014

GOING UNDER GIVEAWAY!

Yesterday saw the re-release of a revised and re-edited version of Going Under, previously published with Silver. I have two shiny copies to give to two lucky commenters - who will be chosen at random by my glamorous assistant next Saturday. All you have to do is tell me your favourite horror movie and don't forget to LEAVE YOUR EMAIL in the comment. Happy commenting!

Battered by unseen forces, Evan Griffin finally seeks help. Paranormal investigator Ross Stone is captivated. Dare he get close to Evan when he’s fighting his own demons?
Evan Griffin moved into his remote country house with all the excitement and promise of a new start... until the strange noises began. When the ghostly attacks become physical, he is left bruised and battered and desperate for help.
When Evan walks into the offices of paranormal investigators, Knight & Stone, Ross Stone is dumbfounded by the injuries the man bears. Injuries Evan insists were caused by an unseen assailant in his own home. Something in the man's eyes tugs at Ross' heartstrings. 
Does he dare risk getting close to Evan when 
Ross is fighting his own demons?
Reader Advisory: This books contains scenes of violence and references to past abuse.
Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher. 
It has been considerably expanded, revised and re-edited for release with 
Totally Bound Publishing.
EXCERPT:
Prologue

Pulling open the curtains to let in the morning light, Evan Griffin gazed out of 
the glass pane at the rolling hills surrounding his house on every side. His house. 
It sounded good in his head. New house and new beginning. He wondered how 
he could be anything but happy here. It was perfect—almost. But he wouldn’t 
think about Mack now—couldn’t. If he let himself walk that road, he’d end up 
in a useless heap on the floor, and those boxes wouldn’t unpack themselves.

Lost in his thoughts, he opened the first box and began to sort through the linen 
he found there. Halfway to the linen closet, he was stopped in his tracks by a 
loud bang. “Fuck,” he hissed, dropping the curtain and padding onto the floor. 
He listened intently for a moment and, hearing nothing, he bent to pick up the 
items he’d dropped. Then he heard it again, coming from the bathroom. 
Swallowing, an uneasy feeling unfurling in his belly, he opened the bathroom 
door and looked around the room. Everything seemed in place. His toiletries 
were on the shelf in a large shoebox and the stack of towels he’d unpacked 
yesterday were still sitting in the bone-dry tub.

The tub was one of the things that had attracted Evan to the property. It was 
huge, and with him at six foot one in his bare feet, a tub that he could actually 
stretch out in was something of a novelty. It sat in the middle of the room on claw 
feet with old-fashioned steel faucets and the head end higher than the foot end, 
like something seen in a Victorian lady’s boudoir. The white porcelain was 
cracked a little with age and he would have to repaint the underside with some 
specialized paint, but he didn’t care. The proportions of the room and the 
grandeur of the fittings, albeit a little worn, were what had clinched the deal. Slam!

“Jesus Christ,” he spat, spinning around to find the bathroom door shutting him 
off from the rest of the house. His heart pounded frantically when there was another 
crash, and he spun around again to see the large casement window at the end of the 
room banging in the wind. “For fuck’s sake, Griffin,” he admonished himself, walking 
over to the window, pulling it shut and securely latching it. “It’s an old house. The 
window was open which made the first slam, then the centrifugal force created by the 
window and the door being open, caused the second.”

He stopped in front of the mirror he had hung above the basin the day before and ran 
his hands through his shaggy hair, scratching his scalp with blunt nails. “If you’re going 
to think that every knock, creak and bang is something sinister, you might as well pack 
up and go back to the city right now.” He shook his head at his reflection before turning 
on his heel and crossing the room to open the door. “And stop talking to yourself,” he 
added with a smile. He firmly closed the door behind him and headed back to the 
bedroom to get dressed.

* * * *

“You think moving houses can get rid of me, Evan?” She watched from her 
seat on the deep windowsill as the man moved around the bedroom. 
“You always were stupid.” She clenched her hands into fists as rage bubbled 
inside her. Narrowing her gaze, she smiled in satisfaction as Evan rubbed his 
hands together to warm them

“What’s wrong, Evan? Cold?” She gripped the wet strands of her hair and 
hissed through her teeth. “Not as cold as me! But you will be…you will be. 
I’m not going anywhere until you and everyone you love has paid for 
what you did.”


Friday, 4 July 2014

RE-RELEASE DAY FOR GOING UNDER!

Now available at Totally Bound - get your copy HERE

BLURB:
Battered by unseen forces, Evan Griffin finally seeks help. Paranormal investigator Ross Stone is captivated. Dare he get close to Evan when he’s fighting his own demons?
Evan Griffin moved into his remote country house with all the excitement and promise of a new start... until the strange noises began. When the ghostly attacks become physical, he is left bruised and battered and desperate for help.
When Evan walks into the offices of paranormal investigators, Knight & Stone,
Ross Stone is dumbfounded by the injuries the man bears. Injuries Evan
insists were caused by an unseen assailant in his own home. Something in
the man's eyes tugs at Ross' heartstrings. Does he dare risk getting close
to Evan when Ross is fighting his own demons?
Reader Advisory: This books contains scenes of violence and references 
to past abuse.
Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher. 
It has been considerably expanded, revised and re-edited for release with 
Totally Bound Publishing.

Thursday, 3 July 2014

THE LAST TRAIN HOME - JAE JENSEN

The Last Train Home, my forage into MF by my alter ego Jae J Jensen, has a shiny new cover by the uber-talented Book Covers by Design and is available at Amazon for $0.99!

BLURB:

Casual hook-ups are not Katherine's usual modus operandi. She's level headed, confident and definitely not into throwing caution, and her knickers, to the wind. 

However, when the last train becomes the stranded in a pitch black tunnel train, she finds herself alone in the dark with a gorgeous stranger, who makes her an offer she ought to, but can't refuse.

GET YOUR COPY HERE


EXCERPT:

For what must have been the hundredth time, Katherine wished she hadn't agreed to work late, not this late, anyway. The entire office was in chaos, trying to get everything ready for the new boss's arrival. Katherine worked for the head of Sales and Marketing at Thacker, Wright & Grant one of the largest advertising firms in the city, and he'd had her staying late every night this week to make sure all his files were complete. Every 'i' had to be double dotted and every 't' double crossed. Which is exactly what Jack Brody was, a double-crossing, ass-pinching, sleazy son of a bitch.
Payroll had done the rounds earlier, and on opening her pay check she was furious to note he hadn't authorized the overtime she'd completed last month—and she knew why. The bastard had been given a written warning last week for his overtly tactile behaviour after she'd made a complaint to Human Resources about his wandering hands. She should have let the asshole present his files to the new VP in their original state—fucking slime-bag.
The screen that had been indicating her train would be arriving in three minutes for the last ten mocked her, daring her to challenge its shitty information. She checked her watch, again. If she'd missed the last train home because of that dickhead she was going to be taking the taxi fare out of his ass with a well-placed Jimmy Choo. Speaking of Jimmy Choos, she was starting to get a little antsy in hers. The silence was deafening and, coupled with the flickering fluorescent lighting, she felt as though she'd stepped into a scene from An American Werewolf in London.
Her gaze flitted around the platform, settling on the homeless person—she couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman from the generic ensemble of filthy overcoat and tattered beanie—curled up on a bench a few feet from her. She wanted to move away, but she also didn't want to make it obvious that's what she wanted to do. Shaking her head at her own reluctance to hurt the feelings of a sleeping tramp, she mentally cursed her mother and the good manners she'd insisted on instilling in her children.
A loud rumbling from the yawning mouth of the tunnel began to build, and the draft created by the approaching locomotive snatched at her coat with icy fingers. Butterflies took flight in Katherine's belly as the roaring grew louder. She loved the sights and sounds of the train pulling into the station. The way the air seemed to be sucked out of the confined space and then pushed back in with a punch when the train burst forth from the darkness like a huge party favour blown between a giant's lips.
Jesus—waxing a bit lyrical aren't we? You must be tired.
Katherine ignored her inner voice as several carriages passed her before the train came to a stop. The doors opened and she stepped inside, looking around and finding she was alone. Thank God, the last thing she needed was some well-meaning fellow traveller pressing her for conversation.  Settling on one of the seats, Katherine sighed heavily and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes and willing away the pressure of the day. The train's engine rumbled as it prepared to continue its journey and the warning buzzer for the doors let off its high pitched beep, signalling the last chance to get on.
"Fuck!"
Katherine's eyes flew open at the expletive and she stared, open-mouthed, at the man who had just managed to squeeze through the doors and onto the car before they'd completely closed. His gaze immediately found hers and he sent her an apologetic smile, which she acknowledged with a brief twitch of her lips.
Katherine couldn't believe he'd managed to get all his appendages inside before the train moved off. He probably used the same expertise it took to shoe horn himself into those jeans. The thought bounced around her skull before she could squash it, and she was mortified to note the playful smile on his face, as if she'd said the words out loud. The train jolted as it moved off and Katherine dropped her gaze to her clasped hands where they lay in her lap.
Jesus, get a grip, Kathy. Anyone would think you'd never seen a hottie before.
That in itself was true; but there was hot and then there was the man sitting across the carriage. Tall, very tall, she'd noticed that when he'd all but fallen onto the train. From the furtive glances she found herself unable to stop taking, she discovered he had dark, brooding eyes, aquiline nose and stubble shadowing his square jaw. His chiselled features could have made him appear hard, if it weren't for his lips. She risked another peak from beneath her lashes. They were full, pouty and looked so soft, for a split-second she wondered how they would feel on her skin. Along with how his black hair would look in contrast with her pale flesh as he slid his tongue down her belly and— Katherine Russell what on earth are you doing? Do you need me to remind you you're a nice girl?
No—she didn't need reminding, but the frisson of excitement sliding down her spine when he turned his dark gaze away from the window and onto her, suggested a bit of a nudge might be a good idea. Of course, if he'd stop sending her toe-curling glances, that would probably help.
How long has it been since we saw any action that didn't involve alcohol wipes or, God forbid, the replacement of triple A's at pivotal moments?
Katherine's cheeks flushed with warmth at the memory. That was definitely one of her lower points, but she hadn't quite hit rock bottom yet. She still had some dignity—didn't she? Trying to tune out the hysterical laughter of her inner Katherine, she gazed out of the window at the dark rushing by. What else did she expect to see? They were on the Central line for Pete's sake. For the next fifty minutes the only scenery she was going to get were black walls and lines of electric cable. She sighed heavily, well used to the joys of being a London commuter, and settled back against headrest.
"I feel like I should introduce myself."
Of course his voice is rich, deep and warm enough to melt butter. What else would it be?
Katherine swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and turned her head in his direction. "I'm sorry?" Jesus, Katherine, now he'll think you're the village idiot.
Tall, dark and oops I think my knickers just caught fire, smiled widely, revealing an adorable dimple in his left cheek. "It feels kind of impolite to sit here and not say anything when we're the only ones here." He leaned across the small gangway between the seats and held out his hand. "I'm CJ."
American—Texas by the sound of it—she'd seen enough Dallas re-runs to recognize the sexy drawl. "Katherine," she replied, shaking his hand and snatching back her fingers at the tiny electric shock she received from his.
"Good to meet you, Katherine. Pretty name, for a pretty lady."
Katherine huffed out a polite laugh and turned her gaze back to the window. Good grief.
"I'm sorry, that was a really crappy line."
Katherine smiled and admitted, "Worse than some, not as bad as others; but yeah, it was right up there with 'Get your coat, love, you've pulled'."
"Really? British guys actually use that one?" CJ looked aghast at the very notion.
"They still drag it out every once in a while," Katherine's lips twitched in amusement at his expression. "But I can't imagine their success rate is very high."
"Jeez, and I thought us Yanks were corny as hell."
"Nope, we have a healthy market for cheese over here, too." Katherine blushed again as he threw back his head and guffawed at her attempt at humour. Which was pleasing, because not everyone appreciated her dryness. Not to mention the sound unfurled a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach. Heat that warmed her cheeks and sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, making her involuntarily fidget in her seat.
"So," CJ said softly. "What's the customary subject for two strangers meeting on a train? This is a first for me. In Dallas the chances of you getting an empty car on the subway is harder than winning the lottery."
Katherine shifted position slightly so she was half turned towards him and crossed her legs, thanking God she was wearing her last pair of un-laddered hold ups, and her new dark purple suit. "Hmmm…," she murmured, as if she were in deep consideration over his question. "To be honest, I have no idea. Whenever anyone says strangers on a train to me all I can think of is the old Alfred Hitchcock classic, and I'm sure that's not what you meant. Unless you have someone you want me to kill, of course."
"Not that I can think of right now," CJ replied with another chuckle, shifting his position to mirror hers she was pleased to note. "Although my landlord still hasn't fixed the hot water yet, so I could change my mind when I'm naked under a freezing shower later."

Katherine tried not to dribble at the thought of a naked CJ under cascading water, whatever the temperature, and couldn't help squeezing her thighs together. The movement sent a pulse of delicious sensation straight to her pussy, curling her toes in her shoes.


Monday, 30 June 2014

WINNERS OF U.S. MALE GIVEAWAY!


WOO HOO! TIME TO ANNOUNCE THE WINNERS
OF THE U.S. MALE GIVEAWAY!

I know I'm rubbish, but it was a big family week last week and I forgot!

The winners of
are:-

Jen CW (jczlapin@gmail.com)
Anonymous (veggieyes@yahoo.com)
Serena (luminousblade@yahoo.com)
Claudia (havenfieldwood@yahoo.com)
Lisa G (lgrant1@san.rr.com)
Kendra (kjpattersonrn@yahoo.com)
Srae Lizess 
Sula
Jamie Fessenden
Anika Laczko

Those who left emails I will contact you through them - you naughty four at the end I'll message on FB ;)

Thanks for participating guys and I'm sorry for forgetting my own giveaway!

Saturday, 21 June 2014

BACK TO THE '50's

The Worralls stepped back in time today.

It started as a normal Saturday morning. Gracie and me wandered to the hairdressers to get our hair done. She's my eldest niece's flower girl on Wednesday and she's very excited. So excited she actually consented to having a fringe (bangs) put in because Kimberly asked her to - not because I've been trying to get her to have one for the last three months *rolls eyes*.

 And here is Gracie getting the full works, courtesy of the lovely Natalie.

It was my turn after but I wouldn't let her take a picture of me :)
And of course there had to be a close-up.
Doesn't her expression just scream "Good God woman, step away from the camera!"


Anyhoo - after the girlification, we picked up Alex and decided to go into town for brunch. Bearing in mind Alex had "slept" in the front room last night - which means he watched the telly til dawn and then decided he should go to bed. No such luck number 1 son - if you're tired it's your own fault mate.

After much soul-searching and Alex repeatedly saying "Why of course mother, I will get up willingly to go and buy your shoes for the wedding. I can think of nothing better to do with my two hours sleep and my Saturday morning." (yeah right) we were off!


My friend had posted on FB last night pictures of her at Bobby Jo's Diner down on Southend seafront and so I suggested we go there, providing we could park. It was a beautiful day and a drive along the seafront and the smell of the estuary would wake Alex up and give me an opportunity to take the piss out of him every time he moaned.

Surprisingly we nabbed a space a few hundred yards from the diner and stepped back to the '50's. Booths made out of cadillac seats in blue and white leather, pink walls and waitresses decked out in poodle skirts and coiffed hair and little caps - it was brilliant! Lots of '50's paraphernalia about and imagine my geeky excitement when we were directed to the Tony Curtis Booth! I want the Rock Hudson one next time!


We ordered a breakfast. I had the "Ice Trucker" and Alex had the "Hollywood" (yes I know, but not that kind of Hollywood). Gracie had a kid's breakfast.

And, of course, they had bubblegum milkshakes that were to die for. Served in a huge glass topped with whipped cream and a cherry!

I had a cherry coke - just to keep in the spirit of things.

Everything was delicious and the atmosphere with the giant jukebox blaring out '50's hits just added to the ambience. Can't wait to try one of their gigantic hotdogs next time!

 And the kids bloody loved it!





Friday, 20 June 2014

Do you believe....?

How much of those who've already left us remains around us?

Some believe in the supernatural, some don't, some are firmly on the fence. Me? I'm a believer. Why?
After my mother passed when I was a kid, I felt her with me. Not just in the spiritual sense, but in the physical sense, too. You know, a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, the feel of fingers through my hair, a kiss on my forehead as I drifted off to sleep, the scent of her perfume in the air. Still do... thirty-five years later. And, when I lost my father, sixteen years after her, I had similar experiences with him. The smell of his tobacco, the feel of his arm around me and, giving birth to my first child, seeing him stand behind the midwife with an encouraging smile on his face.

Was it just my imagination? Did my own mind conjure it all up just to make me feel better in times of need? In those moments on life's journey when no one but your mummy and daddy will do?

Honestly? I don't care what it was. The comfort it brought me then and still brings me now is all I need.

Why am I posting about this today?  This picture....
An old school friend was going through some photos and she came across this one. (I honestly have no idea who the bloke sitting down is and I vaguely remember this day out and I know she was with us, but that's about it lol) It's a picture she took of me and my family on a day out to Crystal Palace in London what must have been a gazillion years ago (especially judging by the dinosaur behind us!)

The man standing up with his hand on my shoulder is my Dad, and I'm writing this post because I dreamt about him last night. All day I've been a bit discombobulated and I've felt his hand right there on my shoulder since I woke up. It's still there now, as I write this.

So it kind of made me wonder if other people have had the same experiences as me. Have been certain they've felt those no longer here? In fact, my son, when he was about four, saw a picture of my dad that my aunt has on her table. Just a snapshot at a party. But he said to me, "I know him." He never met my dad, so obviously I told him he was mistaken, and he doesn't remember now, but he looked at me as though I was stupid and said, "Yes I do, mummy. He's my friend." I remember my aunt and I looking at each other and the conviction on my son's face that not only did he know my dad, but they were friends. Maybe those smells and those glimpses out of the corner of my eye weren't my imagination after all.

What do you think?