What reaction did you have to the end of the last book that you read? Did it make you go “Ahhh.”? Did it make you go “What the ***?”, or did you just think “Thank God that’s over.”?

I finished a book yesterday. It was one of those books where I hated it so much, I kept reading it to the end to see if I liked it any more. I didn’t. Honestly, it was dreadful. It was a definite WTH book, with a definite taste of Thank God that’s over.

What I read generally depends on my mood. For instance at the moment I’m feeling tired and snuggly, and looking for something sweet to read. I’ll probably retire to bed with Stolen Summer by SA Meade. Yesterday I was feeling peppy. The book that I hated suited it perfectly. I’m not giving the name of that book.

I have been told my books are exhausting. One of my Facebook friends said that every time she read one of mine she needed an immediate dose of fluff afterwards. I’m hoping that The Isle of… Where? breaks that mould.

I do understand that feeling though. One book I read recently, Listening to Dust by Brandon Shire, made me cry from the first page to the end. Hell, it was heartrending, but so cathartic. I did follow it with an immediate happy ever after just to make me feel better.

So what will my next read be? I have a feeling it will be an Ahhh followed by Did it have to finish? At least I hope so, RJ.

Author Bio: Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn't following their orders, she can be found plotting at her laptop. In fact she hides so she can plot and has got expert at ignoring the orders.

Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she's made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.

The Isle of… Where?
Buylink: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3053

Blurb: When Liam Marshall’s best friend, Alex, loses his fight with colon cancer, he leaves Liam one final request: buy a ticket to Ryde, on the Isle of Wight, and scatter Alex’s ashes off the pier. Liam is tired, worn out, and in desperate need of a vacation, but instead of sun, sea, sand, and hot cabana boys, he gets a rickety old train, revolting kids, and no Ewan MacGregor.

Liam would have done anything for his friend, but fulfilling Alex’s final wish means letting go of the only family Liam had left. Lost, he freezes on the pier… until Sam Owens comes to his rescue.

Sam’s family has vacationed on the Isle of Wight every year for as long as he can remember, but he’s never met anyone like Liam. Determined to make Liam’s vacation one to remember, Sam looks after him—in and out of the bedroom. He even introduces Liam to his entire family. But as Sam helps Liam let go, he’s forced to admit that he wants Liam to hang on—not to his old life, but to Sam and what they have together.

Excerpt: 

The beach was empty, miles of golden sand laid out for them to dig up. It was also freezing, and Liam shivered. It hadn’t occurred to him to bring a jacket, and the wind whipping off the sparkling waves sucked any heat from the sun.

“You’re shivering,” Sam said unnecessarily. “Here.” He slipped off the hoodie he was wearing, holding it out so that Liam could slip it over his head.

“Then you’ll get cold,” Liam pointed out.

“Put it on,” Sam insisted.

Giving in, because he was fucking freezing, Liam tugged on the soft gray hoodie. It drowned him a little, but it was warm and Liam didn’t care. He cared even less when he looked up and saw the open lust in Sam’s eyes.

“You like me wearing your clothes, huh?”

Sam swallowed and Liam had the feeling that if they weren’t in the open, Sam would have jumped him. As it was, he got up close, too close.

“I wanna fuck you wearing that hoodie and nothing else,” Sam whispered in Liam’s ear, his hot breath ghosting over Sam’s neck. There was no need to whisper, no one was in earshot, but it was hot as hell, and Liam couldn’t help the hitch of breath or the moan that escaped him. But because Sam was talking about fucking, Liam had to retort.

“Just remember, I do the fucking.”

“If you wear this hoodie and your arse is bare, I don’t care who fucks who.”

Liam swallowed hard. Sam chuckled and brushed a quick kiss over his lips.

“Sandcastles.”

“Huh?” Liam was soaking up the way Sam filled his senses. Words took a while longer to process.

To his regret, Sam took a step back. “Sandcastles,” he repeated. “Otherwise things could get interesting out here, and much as people like me, I don’t think they’d forgive a display of bare-arsed man-loving in a hurry.”

Sadly, Sam was probably right, and Liam had to postpone the thought of throwing Sam down on the sand for another time. It didn’t occur to him until much later that he was already planning to spend more time with Sam.

Sam jogged back to Molly and picked up the kids’ buckets and spades from the pea-sized trunk. Liam had been firmly corrected and told it was the boot. Whatever. It was still miniscule.

He handed Liam the purple spade and the orange bucket, keeping rainbow ones for himself. When Liam protested, Sam just gave him a look.

“You got my hoodie. Now stop complaining.”

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