Sneak Peek: Nicolas by Dianne Hartsock (#mm #christmas #giveaway)

[Check out this sexy M/M holiday erotic romance! And don't forget to enter Dianne's giveaway. You could win a $25 bookstore GC! ~ Lisabet]

Blurb

Betrayed by a lover, Jamie rents an isolated cabin on Lake Huron, wanting only to be left alone. Instead, he is pulled from his solitary existence as an artist and tumbles headlong into the legend of Saint Nicolas.

As a young man, Nicolas accidentally killed a man intent on murdering three children, only to have the man’s malicious spirit rise up against him. Fleeing through the centuries from the Krampus, the evil troll-like creature that dogs his steps, Nico finds refuge with the young artist who takes him into his home and bed. But Jamie has questions. Who is Nicolas, and why does the Krampus want to destroy him?

When the Krampus begins to torment and torture anyone Nico comes in contact with to punish him, Jamie’s life is put in danger. And Jamie isn’t sure whether he can help Nico defeat his nemesis or if he’s merely a pawn in the Krampus’s game.

Exclusive Excerpt

Steam rose up around him and he closed his eyes, wanting Jamie in the shower with him, his virile young body writhing against him as Nico’s fingers explored his skin. Those full lips would be soft, pliant as Nico took the kisses he craved.

He jumped when the bathroom door swung open.

“Are you—?” Jamie’s eyes grew enormous as they gazed at each other, and Nico’s heart leaped at the passion that ignited his face. Without a thought he twisted the water off and stepped out of the shower. It thrilled him to the core when Jamie didn’t step back, held his ground, though Nico walked right up to him. Jamie’s gaze raked him head to toe.

“May I have a towel?” he asked softly, loving the confusion that swept Jamie’s face. A soft blush followed, and Jamie turned to a cabinet and handed him one. Jamie watched him, looking uncertain, and Nico paused in drying his dark hair. “Undress, tesoro mio.”

Jamie caught his breath and Nico leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “We can’t make love through your clothing, my treasure.”

Inexplicable panic flashed in Jamie’s eyes and his gaze shot to the overhead light. He looked ready to run, but then his lovely mouth firmed, and he nodded. Nico didn’t understand the sadness behind his shy smile, when Jamie lifted his sweater over his head. His pants followed in one swift motion.

The young man was exquisite! Lean and graceful. Jamie’s pale nipples jutted in a hint of breasts, hips curving to a rounded ass. Jamie’s chest heaved as he fought some strong emotion, arms crossing as if to protect himself. What was wrong? Had Nico frightened him?

“Jamie?” No answer; Nico was desperate to understand him. He felt sure Jamie would forgive the intrusion and concentrated, touching Jamie’s downcast face. Images from Jamie's past flashed in his mind as he read his thoughts: years of torment in the boys’ locker room after gym class, for his soft body. The ridicule of lovers for his gentle heart and effeminate ways. Good Christ! How had they not seen what a jewel he was, missed the passion underlying his shy advances? He pulled Jamie’s resisting body into his arms.

“Angelo mio,” he murmured, nuzzling his neck. His hands trailed down Jamie’s back and undid the ribbon tying his long braid. Silken tendrils curled around Nico’s fingers and he bunched them in his hands, tilting Jamie’s face upwards. Fear and arousal warred in the blue eyes. He planted kisses along his jawline, nibbled at his perfect lips. “You’re more lovely than I could have imagined, my angel,” he said and pressed their lips together.

He tugged the red hair. “Open for me, Jamie,” he said and swallowed the young man’s gasp as Nico slid his tongue between his parting lips. Sugar and warmth jolted his heart, sending his pulse hammering. He moved his head and deepened the kiss, needing more of Jamie’s sweet taste.

About the Author

Dianne grew up in one of the older homes in the middle of Los Angeles, a place of hardwood floors and secret closets and back staircases. A house where ghosts lurk in the basement and the faces in the paintings watch you walk up the front stairs. Rooms where you keep the closet doors closed tight at night. It’s where her love of the mysterious and wonderful came from. Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, and anything else that comes to mind.

She now lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. Dianne says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee in her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

Blog: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/diannehartsock

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/diannehartsock

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/4707011-dianne-hartsock

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Dianne-Hartsock/e/B005106SYQ/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1361897239&sr=8-1

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/Dianne-Hartsock-Author-107985445959828/

Buy Links for Nicolas:

Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/Nicolas-Dianne-Hartsock/dp/163476188X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1473111182&sr=8-1&keywords=dianne+hartsock

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/nicolas-dianne-hartsock/1123118053?ean=9781634761888

ARe Books: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-nicolas-1937566-143.html

Dreamspinner: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/nicolas-by-dianne-hartsock-3760-b

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Living Without Winter (#mm #winter #excerpt)

For the past thirteen years, I've resided in a tropical country where we have three seasons: the hot season, the rainy (and hot) season, and the laughably-titled "cool" season, when the temperature occasionally dips into the seventies. Thus, I've been deprived of winter for the better half of a decade. Before the move, though, I lived in rural New England for more than twenty years, so I have plenty of experience with all the joys the season brings: blizzards, ice-storms, and that nightmarish anomaly that seems to be a Massachusetts specialty, freezing rain. I remember winter only too well: power outages, snow tires, storm windows, shoveling, hauling firewood, pulling all the winter clothes out of the attic, making sure your anti-freeze is full... After spending two years in balmy California then returning to my native clime, I came to realize that winter in a place with serious weather is an incredible amount of work.

I usually go back to the U.S. once a year to visit family, but in the spring (during the excruciatingly hot season in my adopted country). Winter is a vivid but increasingly distant memory. I do find myself romanticizing a bit. I imagine the crisp, hushed beauty of a frigid night, when the stars glitter like faraway diamonds in the velvet sky. I remember the excitement of waking up to find the trees cloaked in a soft white blanket, the river frozen, the footprints of a rabbit the only sign of life in the snow-smothered world. I find myself missing the camaraderie of working with my husband to clear a path up our long driveway to the street - conveniently forgetting aching backs and frost-bitten extremities. Memories of childhood delights return to entice me: racing down a snowy hill on my Radio Flyer, digging snow houses out of the piles left by the plows, sitting on the wooden bench next to the flooded and frozen tennis court to don my cherished white figure skates. The scent of wood smoke hanging in the air - Campbell's tomato soup topped with Cheerios and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch after stripping off my soaked snowsuit - real cocoa topped with marshmallows to warm my numb fingers... I could go on and on. Yes, I do miss winter, no matter how hard I try to focus on the dangers and inconveniences it brought.

One of the side benefits of being a writer, though, is that we can use fiction to recreate what we've lost. I definitely do that when it comes to the erotic aspects of my work. The faraway sexual adventures of my youth provide seeds for many of my stories. I write partially to recapture the thrill of those heady days when I was exploring the joys and perils of passion.

In a similar vein, I can relive the experiences of true winter by incorporating the season into my fictional worlds. My M/M novel Necessary Madness is a winter's tale. In one of my favorite scenes, the protagonists, driving home in a storm, stop at a closed, snow-clogged highway rest area because—well, they can't wait any longer:

They’d left in a rush, barely polite. In their eagerness to get back to Rob’s apartment, they’d refused offers of coffee and breakfast. The one-hour trip from Petersham to Worcester seemed endless, especially since the state of the roads demanded extra caution.

Rob’s erection throbbed, painful and demanding. He guessed that Kyle was hard too, though with the bulky jacket and scarf, he couldn’t tell for sure. Kyle felt Rob’s gaze. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question and his full lips curled into a smile, but he didn’t speak.

Rob couldn’t stand it any longer. They were coming down the hill into Gardner. There was a rest area near the city line. Rob yanked the steering wheel and the car swerved into the exit lane, cutting off a truck easing up from behind.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kyle yelled. The rest area hadn’t been ploughed yet. The Saturn skidded for several yards before it came to rest in a parking spot. Rob scrambled out, then came around to open the passenger-side door. “Come on. I just can’t wait anymore.”

The lot was deserted. Wind rustled the tall pines sheltering the building that housed the toilets, knocking clumps of snow onto the windshield. Rob grabbed Kyle’s hand and practically dragged him out of the car.

“Rob, it’s probably locked.”

“I’ll break down the door if I have to.” Rob was desperate. But the men’s room was open, although the electricity appeared to be off. Wan light entered via a dirty window near the ceiling. He pulled Kyle through the door and pressed him against the tiled wall, devouring his mouth. Kyle responded with equal passion. Rob ripped open the snaps on Kyle’s jacket and grabbed at his crotch.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to have you. Now. I can’t concentrate. I can’t drive. All I can think about is you.” He unfastened Kyle’s belt and unzipped his fly, then yanked the jeans down around Kyle’s knees. The young man’s cock sprang out, huge and ready. Rob cradled it in his hands, then squeezed hard. Kyle groaned.

“Rob, what if somebody comes?”

Rob chuckled as he wrestled with his own cold fly. “Somebody is going to come—you and me!”

“No, really. If a state trooper came in to take a leak and found us here—you might lose your job.”

“I don’t care. I can’t help it. Honestly, if I don’t fuck you right now…” Rob didn’t bother to finish the sentence. He turned Kyle to face the wall, bracing the other man’s hands against the cold ceramic surface. He wrapped his arms around Kyle’s chest and rubbed his cock back and forth in the boy’s ass crack. Kyle whimpered and ground his butt against Rob’s hardness, until Rob was sure he’d explode.

“Do it,” Kyle gasped, as Rob reached down and gripped his partner’s cock around the base. Kyle bent forward, presenting his rump. Rob spit on his fingers, then slipped one into the crevice between those pale globes. He probed the tight knot of muscle guarding Kyle’s entrance.

“I’ve got a rubber but no lube,” he whispered, wriggling his digit into Kyle’s rear hole. Kyle writhed in response. “Nothing but spit.”

“I can take it.” Kyle caught his breath as Rob inserted a second finger. “I can take anything you give me."

When I wrote this, I was there. All the sensory details were clear. I could feel the sickening swerve of the out-of-control vehicle, hear the pines groaning in the wind and the muted splat of snow blown onto the windshield. I shivered in the bitter chill of the unheated building, the scent of disinfectant rising in my nostrils, goosebumps prickling my bared flesh. Pasting the segment in here, I am surprised to note that almost none of the wintery sensations actually made it into the scene. The focus (appropriately, I hope) is on the sexual tension building between the characters. Winter is in there in the background, though, a contrast to the heat of my characters' desperate coupling.

Unlike some people who move to the tropics, I didn't leave my former home to escape from winter. Life is easier now, I'll admit, but I sometimes hunger for a taste of the cold, dark, snowy season and the complex emotions it evokes - fear, frustration, comfort, awe, hope. When the temperature drops below zero, you truly appreciate warmth. When the sun sets at four in the afternoon, you kindle a fire on the hearth to remind yourself light will return. Living without winter, I write to keep those feelings alive.

Sneak Peek: Illicit Relations by Lucy Felthouse (#mm #eroticromance #taboo @cw1985)

Illicit Relations, a M/M erotic romance by Lucy Felthouse, with coming out and almost-taboo themes, has been re-released with a stunning new cover and a lower price! Please note, however, if you’ve read it before, that the content hasn’t changed.

But maybe you’d like to read this sweet and steamy book again...!

Blurb

Terry’s had a crush on his second cousin Justin for what seems like forever. He’s hidden it as well as possible, knowing that the other man is out of bounds, forbidden fruit. Second cousins getting together isn’t actually illegal, but for Justin the relationship is too close—he just can’t contemplate them being together.

But when some new information comes to light about Terry’s birth and his place in the family, the whole game changes. Suddenly the relationship isn’t so impossible, and things soon begin to get hot and heavy.

Buy links

Amazon: http://mybook.to/illicitrelations

All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/29L2JMc

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/29At2jv

iBooks UK: http://apple.co/29Ear9K

iBooks US: http://apple.co/29L3dBX

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/29BbODJ

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18741652-illicit-relations

Excerpt

Terry deliberately averted his gaze as Justin tugged off his T-shirt and dove into the pool. The last thing he needed was to see him topless. His libido was already in overdrive and he was having trouble not jumping Justin’s bones. In fact, the only thing that held him back was the fact that Justin was his second cousin. They hadn’t been brought up particularly closely, so it wasn’t as if he were lusting after someone he considered to be a brother, but still. They were related and it was weird. Or it would be weird if anything happened between them, which it wouldn’t, of course. It would be wrong and they both knew it.

Terry assumed that was the reason Justin was avoiding him, anyway. They got on well and there was an obvious spark between them, but nothing inappropriate had ever taken place. For the most part, they acted as cousins should. Every now and again, though, he’d catch Justin looking at him. Equally, Terry would drink his fill of his cousin when no one else was looking. Apparently it was getting increasingly difficult for Justin, too.

Right now, at the annual summer get together at Terry’s grandparents’ massive house in rural Warwickshire, the tension between them had never been higher.

What made the whole thing ten times worse was that neither of them had come out. So ending up together would be a double whammy for their families. He could see it now. Hey, everyone! I’m gay—and so is he. We’re together. Now as you were.

He didn’t know whether the reaction would be favorable or not.

He also knew that part of his frustration about the situation was because he hadn’t yet seen any point in coming out. His feelings for Justin ran deeper than he cared to admit, and for that reason he hadn’t been in a relationship with anyone—ever. Not a homosexual relationship, anyway. He’d had girlfriends back in the days when he hadn’t realized what his urges meant, but since then he’d been by himself and remained a virgin. He was surprised, actually, that no one in his family had asked whether he was gay. He could only assume that because he was so private generally, they thought he would only introduce them to someone when he felt it was absolutely right. That was his plan, in fact. To come out and introduce his partner at the same time. But until he got over this damn infatuation with Justin, he was never going to be any farther forward.

His thoughts ran on for several minutes until he was interrupted—and startled—by droplets of cold water falling onto his bare shoulder. He turned. Justin stood there, shaking his blond head and sending the droplets flying around. Apparently he wasn’t avoiding Terry anymore.

It was hot and he was wearing casual clothes, so Terry wasn’t bothered about getting wet, but for some reason, he snapped at Justin. “For fuck’s sake, do you have to do that here?”

Immediately Justin stopped and stared at him. They’d never had a cross word between them, not even when they were children. “Sorry, mate. I was just messing around. I didn’t think it would piss you off.”

His blue eyes were wide and Terry felt his irritation dissipating rapidly. He continued to rake his gaze down Justin’s half-naked form. His broad shoulders and wide chest, which was sprinkled with a handful of pale hairs. His toned stomach, the six-pack nicely defined but not too body-builderish. His arms were thickly muscled but suited his athletic frame. Deep-blue swimming trunks hid the area he most wanted to see but he relied on the glimpses he’d had over the years and his overripe imagination.

Thick thighs and calves and, unbelievably, nice feet—he didn’t generally like feet—finished off the package of perfection and Terry was suddenly extremely glad he had a book in his lap, because his cock was beginning to swell and press against the inside of his swimming shorts. He realized that a dip in the pool would be a pretty good antidote—the chilly water should take the heat from his cock. And if not, at least no one would be able to see the bulge unless they swam underwater.

It was stupid, really, trying to hide his erection from Justin. They both knew there was something between them, and he wanted to bury his hard cock inside Justin’s mouth or arse, not hide it beneath a fucking book.

He began to wonder whether they should just get together, and to hell with the consequences. It wasn’t illegal.

Justin sat down on the sun bed next to Terry and flashed him a smile. “Am I forgiven, then? I haven’t got your book wet, have I?” He reached out to grab the book, presumably to try to dry it, but Terry slammed his hand down quickly, catching Justin’s fingers beneath his in the process, not to mention giving his cock a bit of a smack.

“No,” he ground out, wondering how he’d managed to get even a single word to fall from his lips. As soon as their fingers had touched he’d felt a spark that had run straight up his arm and multiplied throughout his entire body. His ebbing erection had immediately jumped back to attention, lifting the book slightly. He hoped against all hope that Justin hadn’t noticed but he had no such luck.

The blond’s gaze dropped to their still-touching fingers and, presumably, to the book and the thing beneath it that had caused the movement. He stared for a few seconds that felt like hours, then looked back up at Terry’s face. He opened his mouth then closed it again. For the first time ever, it seemed Justin was speechless.

A huge splash and a series of laughs from the pool broke the spell between them. Justin snatched his hand back and raked it through his hair. He opened and closed his mouth again, but for the second time nothing came out. He let out a heavy sigh and stood up looking dazed. He appeared to have trouble putting one foot in front of the other, as though he were drunk or had just woken from a very deep sleep. Of course, only the two of them knew the real reason for Justin’s behavior.

Finally Justin got his limbs to cooperate, and he made his way across to the table that held food and drinks, sheltered from the bright sunlight by a large, green gazebo.

Terry watched him go, a tumult of emotions running through his brain. Disappointment, confusion, anger, lust…they all assaulted him, though admittedly the last was screaming the loudest, a fact certainly not helped by Justin’s damp and topless state.

Now a feeling of despair took hold of him. What the fuck was he going to do?

About Lucy Felthouse

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller). Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 140 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter and Facebook. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

To do or not to do- that is the question… (#advice #mm #lgbt @SusanMacNicol7)

By Susan Mac Nicol (Guest Blogger)

Authors are always being given advice. By beta readers, by other authors, by grammar Nazis, by readers, fans, bloggers, editors, publishers-the list is endless. Most of it is well-meant, qualified advice which can go a long way to making your book better- or worse. It depends on how you, as the writer of said story, see things.

Take me for example. I recently submitted a book to one of my very good and trusted beta readers. As a good beta reader, it’s her prerogative to point out a few things that I might like to think about, in case I want to shake things up. One of them was the use of adverbs. Now, I have defended the poor misunderstood adverb on many an occasion, simply because I like them. I understand the whole ‘show not tell’ thing but honestly, if adverbs were undesirable, they wouldn’t be in the Oxford Dictionary would be, waiting there for the right moment to slyly jump out and say ‘Hi there, reader!’ (See what I did there?)

Anyhoo, she mentioned that I might like to review my MS and check I wanted these little buggers in there. To which I said, ‘You betcha.’ I don’t believe I overuse them (if I do, I’m sorry but as I said, I like ‘em) and I do feel they have a place in writing. That’s my prerogative as the writer. I see so many do’s and don’ts when it comes to writing that quite frankly, keeping track of them and people’s preference is exhausting. Good grammar -absolutely. Nit-picky issues- meh, not so much.

One of my books had the two MC’s using pet names for each other- Some readers loved it, others hated it. I’m careful how I do this, not over using them, and sometimes it works fine for their story.

This brilliant beta reader also said that recently there had been some forum discussion about the use of message or text speak in stories. You know, this sort of thing…

SusieWrites: Bring me chocolates home please. I’m having a bad day.

SusiesSpouse: No way. You eat too much of that already.

Apparently there is the view that it brings the reader out of the story and doesn’t add much and people don’t like it. Hmm, okay. See, again, I like this sort of thing in a story when I read, as long as it doesn’t go on for ages (like Mr Grey and whatsherface via email). If it’s being used at the right place, to tell the reader something he or she needs to know, then okie-dokie. So my short bit of message speak will be staying. Unless my editor decides it has to go and gives me a very valid reason. I will argue the toss though.

Of course there are places where I do listen to people (my husband just fell over flat on his back at that concession). One reviewer said I used the word ‘bloody’ too much in one of my books. I checked and yeah, maybe I had. So now I watch the use of this word. If something you are doing is blatantly wrong or grammatically incorrect rather than simply being a preference – it will be fixed. Readers expect a story to be the best it can be and as writers, we have an obligation to ensure it is.

So as a final thought on this subject- write what you want to write, in whatever way you feel is right for your story. As long as you’re comfortable with it, and thinks it adds value or says what you want to say, it’s probably right for you and your book.

Blurb

Tragedy and horror shaped Jackson Grady's life, leaving him orphaned and scarred. At eighteen he's ready to claim his future, but who could love his disfigured face and damaged soul? Definitely not a big, burly, beautiful Irish Traveller who is entirely the stuff of dreams.

Dare Rowan didn't mean to become obsessed with the blue-eyed man he first saw across a field, but that porcelain skin and innocent air demanded another meeting. Jax has the face of a wounded angel, and the rest of the young man is as heart-breakingly perfect. Jax is beautiful in every way and teaching him about love and life will be something Dare will embrace. Like unwrapping and savouring the candy at the shop where he works, Dare will show this young man everything Jax desired but never thought he'd have, and take Jax to new highs while he holds him through the lows. Between them, they’ll find out just how sweet life can be.

Excerpt

“Who’s there?” he called out. Jax hated the slight quaver in his voice, not wanting to appear defenceless to a potential burglar. “I can hear you, so no use hiding. Just tell me what you want here. Or get the fuck out of my home.”

He wouldn’t tip his hand, telling the burglar he had a weapon. Let the bastard find out for himself, he thought grimly. The scuffling noise stopped and now all Jax could hear was someone’s steady breathing.

Jax stood straight and tall, hoping he looked intimidating in the dim light, where no one could see he wasn’t superhero material.

A quiet voice echoed from the darkness. “I’m not here to rob you or hurt anyone. I hope I didn’t scare you.” The voice sounded familiar and Jax frowned, trying to place it.

“I’m not scared.” Jax gripped the poker tighter. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” He let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding and scowled, reaching down to fumble for the table lamp. He switched it on and the room flooded with warm light. Jax momentarily closed his eyes, trying to adjust to it. When he opened them, a large, blurred figure stood by the door to the hallway. It was half open and Jax guessed the man had been trying to make a clean break away from whatever he’d been doing in the house.

Jax stepped around the huddled blanket on the floor and made his way closer to the other man.

If he was going to hurt me, he’d have done it already.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell you’re doing in this house?” he demanded. Something propelled him forward; he didn’t feel nervous anymore, simply curious. As Jax got closer, he squinted at the stranger, trying to see him more clearly.

“I came to return something.” The other man’s even tone sent a shiver through Jax’s body. “Something that was taken from you that didn’t belong where it was.”

Now Jax was sure he knew the person behind the voice. It surely couldn’t be who he thought it was, could it?He moved, closing the distance until he could see more clearly. The sight that greeted his eyes took his breath away.

God, it is Dare from the mall. Crap, he’s one sexy beast. Even if he might be a serial killer.

Jax waved the poker at Dare. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Dare huffed. “It’s a long story.” He eyed the poker dubiously. “Really, a poker? That’s your weapon of choice?”

Jax snorted. “I can clobber you with it if you try anything. Come on, dude. Tell me what the hell is going on. Are you that desperate to have coffee with me?”

Dare laughed, a little shakily. “‘Dude?’ You love that word. It’s pretty cute when you say it. And yes, I’m defi-nitely partial to having coffee with you one way or another. But this wasn’t quite what I had planned.”

Jax blinked. His eyes felt gritty and sore and he had gunk bunging up one corner of his left eye. He reached up and rubbed it away softly. “How do you know I use the word ‘dude’ often?”

Dare gave a deep, indrawn breath. There was silence. Jax got the impression Dare had revealed something he wasn’t supposed to.

Jax grew impatient. “Are you going to tell me anything anytime soon? Because if not, I’ll call out for the own-er of the house and he can call the cops, then we’ll get the story—”

“No, no police.” For the first time Dare sounded panicked. “God, you’re so damn feisty.”

Jax got the impression that wasn’t a problem for this man from his admiring tone. Jax’s groin warmed more. Now his dick was standing at half-mast and it was the last thing he needed if he did have to call on Randy.

I’m getting a hard-on for someone who broke into the house. Could shit get any weirder?

“So, what’s the story, Mr Dark and Sexy? Do you actually have one or are you just an opportunistic burglar making something up?”

The chuckle that emanated from Dare’s mouth was low, and yes, still damn sexy.

“Really? You think I’m dark and sexy?” Dare’s face twisted into a grin. “I’m flattered. You’re something your-self.”

Jax went on the offensive. “Do you always hit on people whose houses you break into? What are you, like, the Flirty Burglar or something?”

Really? This god of a man thinks I’m something? And honestly—the Flirty Burglar. Face palm.

Buy Links

http://www.amazon.com/Damaged-Goods-Men-London-Book-ebook/dp/B01EO8DHDA/

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Damaged-Goods-Men-London-Book-ebook/dp/B01EO8DHDA/

http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/books/damaged-goods

Giveaway

To win a $10 Amazon gift card, please leave me a comment with your email address. Tell me the worst advice anyone has ever given you!  I'll draw one random winner on Saturday the 28th of May.

Bio

Susan Mac Nicol is a self-confessed bookaholic, an avid watcher of videos of sexy pole dancing men, geek and nerd and in love with her Smartphone. This little treasure is called 'the boyfriend' by her long suffering husband, who says if it vibrated, there'd be no need for him. Susan hasn't had the heart to tell him there's an app for that...

She is never happier than when sitting in the confines of her living room/study/on a cold station platform scribbling down words and making two men fall in love. She is a romantic at heart and believes that everything happens (for the most part) for a reason. She likes to think of herself as a 'half full' kinda gal, although sometimes that philosophy is sorely tested.

In an ideal world, Susan Mac Nicol would be Queen of England and banish all the bad people to the Never Never Lands of Wherever -Who Cares. As that's never going to happen, she contents herself with writing her HEA stories and pretending, that just for a little while, good things happen to good people.

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