Backlist Bitz

A series of Exclusive Excerpts from my backlist – which always needs some extra love *wink*. Today it’s HIS GIFT: paranormal (very) erotic romance, with an ending that you may say is HFS (happy for some…).

Available here:
Amazon | Nook Kobo | AppleBooks | Google Play | Smashwords
Add it to your Goodreads here.

BLURB: Steven Macklin wakes up in a ditch one morning in foul, wet weather with no idea where he is or how he came to be there. Seriously injured, he struggles across bleak heathland to find shelter. The only house he finds is weather-beaten and deserted, although he’s too sensible a guy to fall for the cliche of a haunted mansion. Isn’t he?

When he collapses and is taken in by the handsome Eliot, Steven finds himself in a very disturbing situation — and in the bed of this strange, possessive man.

EXCERPT: I stumbled over the edge of another path that wound away from the road, and that’s when I saw the first sign of habitation, the remains of a barn half hidden by the trees. For a second, my hopes were raised, but then I saw that the roof had fallen in and most of the walls were broken. There was no shelter for me there. I took a few steps onto the new path, regardless—where else was there to go? My body ached and my mind was thick with misery.

The vegetation thinned out as I faltered on, the smell of pine and damp soil getting stronger in my nostrils, the uneven surface gradually easing beneath my feet. Then the road twisted around to the left and stopped being a country path, transforming instead into a driveway leading to a large country house.

It was totally unexpected. Was I hallucinating? I was light-headed from my efforts and still confused about what had happened to me. But even after blinking several times, the structure was still there. I was a few hundred yards away, and obviously, until my path had changed direction, it had been hidden by the trees. A rough stone wall ran around its perimeter, and a large iron-barred gate was set into the brick, right ahead of me. It was wide open. Continue reading

Backlist Bitz

A series of Exclusive Excerpts from my backlist – which always needs some extra love *wink*. Today it’s BLINDED BY OUR EYES: an erotic crime story set in the London art world, with suspense, murder, and an ending that is satisfying for the crime, and HFN for the romance.
BLURB: London art dealer Charles Garrett has devoted his life to appreciating and acquiring beauty, both in art and in his companions. His fashionable life is rocked to the core when he discovers the body of a young artist, Paolo Valero, in a pool of blood in his gallery.

As Paolo’s mentor, Charles is haunted by the horror of his violent death. Seeking closure, he investigates Paolo’s past and soon discovers a tangled web of motives and potential suspects, some closer to home than he ever imagined. He’s drawn to Antony Walker, an aggressive, handsome sculptor with unsavory ties to Paolo. Charles is unsettled by Antony’s forceful nature but irresistibly attracted to his passion and his art.

When the evidence points toward Antony’s guilt, Charles is thrown into emotional turmoil. Has he lost his heart to a killer?

Buy here: Amazon | Nook Kobo | Google Play
Add it to your Goodreads here.
See the AUDIOBOOK here.


The interview room at the police station was small and bleak. A smooth coat of off-white paint and a selection of plastic furniture made no concessions to comfort. I’d been brought a cup of tea but I hadn’t touched it so far. I hadn’t been handcuffed or cautioned, and I didn’t think anyone was watching me through a one-way mirror, but the officer’s attitude was harsh, nonetheless. Suspicious.

“I just found him like that.” I bit back the nausea. “I told you everything already.”

“You don’t live over the shop?”

I frowned. “You mean the gallery? No, I have a flat in Bayswater.” They had the address, didn’t they? I was sure they’d written it down at some stage.

“But you called in to the gallery, so late at night. Ten-thirty, or thereabouts. What was the reason for that, sir?”

“I wanted to check out the displays. I’ve been away for a couple of days.” I wasn’t going to tell this man how attracted I felt to the gallery, at any time of day or night. It was always a pleasure to go there, for whatever reason. Or at least, it had been until tonight.

He glanced down at some sheets of paper in front of him. His hair was trimmed to just above his collar. Dark brown, tousled. His shirt looked clean but lined, as if it had only just come out of the packet. “Yes. We’re checking that with the airline.”

I started to shake my head then stopped myself.

“No one called you? Asked you to come around? Maybe you had an arrangement to meet someone on your return. At the gallery.”

“No. Nothing like that. I just dropped in. I didn’t expect…” I swallowed hard. My throat was dry, but the tea didn’t look any more inviting than it had before. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be there.” I glanced down at my shirt. There was a smear of dried blood over the lower buttons from where I’d held Joseph.

The policeman fanned out the papers, then shuffled them back together. “You have other tenants, though?”

“I rent out the art studios above the gallery.” There were just a few rooms but they were very popular with artists who didn’t have facilities themselves. It also gave the gallery a certain unique character. That helped with the promotion, of course, with getting established in a challenging market. “But they don’t often work at night, and it’s usually with prior agreement. They’d need a key.”

He tensed up very slightly. “And who has a key?” Continue reading

Backlist Bitz

A series of Exclusive Excerpts from my backlist – which always needs some extra love *wink*. Today it’s MUSE: paranormal (very) erotic romance, with an ending that tugs at the heartstrings but I promise you is HEA.

BLURB: Gavin McGrath’s art career is in ruins, his health is failing, his wife’s left him because of his promiscuity, and he’s alienated people in the industry with his aggressive and arrogant behaviour.

But when a full pot of red paint falls on his current canvas, apparently ruining it, it brings a change in his life he never expected. A strange, beautiful young man appears in his studio as his companion and Muse. Matteo is from another time but he understands artists all too well—and now his place is with Gavin.

Matteo brings devotion and inspiration across the centuries, forcing Gavin to take stock of his life and his behaviour in the months he has left to him. Eventually Gavin realises he must reconsider the capacity for love he’s always scorned—before it’s too late for both him and Matteo.

Buy here: Amazon | also available in Kindle Unlimited
Add it to your Goodreads here.


He first appeared the next day: the strange young man.

It was early morning and I’d rearranged the red canvas on my easel, examining it from a different angle. I was mixing new paints, too, with unusual concentration. When I glanced at the palette I was mildly surprised to find that they were all based on red. I’d blocked color on some of the canvas and sketched sweeps of complementary crimsons across its width. Just playing, of course. I’d probably still have to dump the fucking thing in the end. But an idea had been teasing at the edges of my mind involving a progression of scenes, based solely on feelings, on emotional threads and twists. Enthusiasm through to exhaustion; naivety through to numbness. Birth to death…

I imagined that shades of red would work well for it. For the first time in ages, my pulse quickened with a flame of artistic excitement.

He cleared his throat behind me and I nearly dropped the whole damned thing. I whirled around. “Who the fuck are you? How did you get in?” Continue reading

Backlist Bitz

A series of Exclusive Excerpts from my backlist – which always needs some extra love *wink*. Today it’s FLASHBULB: contemporary erotic romance, with an HEA ending.

BLURB: Blythe Harris was taking his first flight to the USA and hopefully a whole new client base for his bespoke upholstery business. An adventure for him, he was both nervous and excited to attract the attention of a handsome steward. Things might have gone further – if Flight HA1710 hadn’t failed.

Marc Stafford is a self-confessed player, and he used his charm to seduce his cute passenger. But in the aftermath of the crash, he’s struggling to recover his confidence. The TV declares him a hero for saving passengers, but at night his nightmares trigger painful flashbulb memories of the crash.

In an Irish hospital, Bly realises that although his broken leg will recover, his career may not. And in Chicago, Marc can’t face returning to work. Neither of them can shake off the memory of their brief, sexy encounter. Both of them need to be with someone who understands exactly what they’ve been through. And on a middle ground they can make all their own.

Buy here: Amazon | Nook Kobo | AppleBooks | Smashwords | Google Play
Add it to your Goodreads here.


Bly looked back at him, paused, and then sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m dosed up on sedatives and not necessarily acting… myself.” And then he laughed, a soft, happy sound, directed totally at Marc.

Marc laughed too. He felt lighter; his mood more relaxed than it had been for a while. “Did I say you were cute?”

Bly nodded, blushing. “Just now. Though it’s not something we say a lot in the UK. Don’t worry—I know it’s just a line.”

Holy crap. Marc was ambushed by the strength of his reaction. Bly’s blush was just the right mixture of sweetness and awareness. Just a guy, right? Another conquest? No… something else. The promise of novelty and charm, as well as adventure! Marc took stock of their situation. The plane was relatively settled, and no one was using the rear restrooms. He was on his own in the galley. He lifted his hand to touch Bly’s lips with his fingertips, very briefly and very, very gently. He meant it as a come-on, a question to see how far Bly was prepared to go, but was startled at how much it felt like a caress.

Bly’s lips parted, and his tongue darted out to moisten them. The tip caught Marc’s index finger. Marc felt instantly dizzy. Shit, he’d never suffered with any kind of airsickness, and he ate and drank all the right things before a flight. He hadn’t gotten the flu since he was a youngster. Why the hell was he swaying on his feet like he was going to pass out? He grasped the edge of the counter to steady himself and leaned into Bly. “It’s not a line. You are cute. I’m really tempted to take advantage of that, you know?”

“I know,” Bly whispered. He licked his lips again. His cheeks were as pink as if the summer sun had caught them on a hot, lazy afternoon. His eyelids drooped as if he were tired, hiding the full force of his gaze, and he leaned back into Marc. “I’m fine with that.” Continue reading