Showing posts with label Clare London. Show all posts

Review for Clare London's Romancing The Ugly Duckling

Romancing The Ugly Duckling

Is this the makeover of a lifetime?

Ambitious fashionista Perry Goodwood lands the project of his dreams - track down a celebrity family's missing brother in the Scottish Highlands and bring him back to London for a TV reality show. But first he must transform the rugged loner into a glamorous sophisticate.

Greg Ventura has no use for high fashion. He lives on the isolated island of North Uist to escape the reminder that he's nowhere near as handsome as his gorgeous brothers and to avoid the painful childhood memories of being bullied.

Greg wants nothing to do with city life, and Perry's never been outside London. When Perry is stranded on North Uist, this conflict seems insurmountable. But Greg is captivated by the vivacious Perry, and Perry by both the island and his host. However, Perry's one heartfelt wish remains: that ugly duckling Greg fulfill his potential as a swan.


Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK 


My Review: Sometimes you just want romance. You want the fish out of water, the character who is faced with impossible odds, the recluse who prefers his own company and the one who is vivacious and everyone loves them. Sometimes you want a Scottish island, remote, unforgiving, with a community dynamic that has everyone up in everyone else's business. I wanted that, I love that, and I found it in this book. I absolutely love the romance, the reliance on brilliant story telling and the gorgeous scene descriptions (I could imagine every inch of the island!). This would make a really good film.

Author Bio

Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with the weekly wash, waiting for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
All the details and free fiction are available at her website. Visit her today and say hello!

Website: http://www.clarelondon.com
Blog: http://clarelondon.livejournal.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/clarelondon
Facebook chat: https://www.facebook.com/groups/clarelondoncalling/
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/clare_london
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/clarelondon
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/clarelondon


Twelve Days of Christmas: Day 2 Clare London



Welcome and Merry Christmas to Clare London...


Hi

I’d like to offer a $20 / £15 voucher at Amazon or All Romance ebooks.

Could there be more different men than a gruff bear of a mountaineer and a quiet, graceful and creative playwright? Romancing the Wrong Twin takes the Opposites Attract theme and torments poor Aidan and Dominic with it until their whole lives are mixed up – and the only hope of rescue is to find the path forward together!

Excerpt

 “How many times have you been to Nepal?” Aidan was particularly fascinated with H-G’s recent climbs. “I’d love to see that part of the world. How did it feel to be thousands of meters above sea level?”

“Eight point two,” H-G murmured.

“To take pictures of that as a beautiful, forever memory of the climb? To see the whole country laid out below you,” Aidan continued excitedly, “rather than be down on the ground with everyone else?”

H-G looked bemused, and Aidan wondered if he’d said something wrong, but H-G answered his question. “It’s brilliant. Almost indescribable. The scene is magical—if I believed in that stuff. To see the two snowcapped subsidiary peaks, the knife-edge ridges stretching across the range. It’s the closest I’ve ever got to spirituality.” H-G’s gaze searched Aidan’s face. He still looked confused.

“It must feel almost like you never wanted to come back down.”

“Exactly like that,” H-G said so softly that Aidan barely heard it.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Aidan stared back at H-G, seeking the truth behind the man’s words. It was there, in H-G’s bright eyes and suspiciously damp lashes, in the momentary disappearance of his habitual scowl, and in the catch of his breath, for his broad chest was barely moving. Aidan’s own chest twisted uncomfortably and his heartbeat sped up.

“But that wasn’t going to happen.” H-G broke the spell with a more familiar gruff comment. “Got a call from the bloody bank. Amazing they can track you down in the middle of the bloody Himalayas, isn’t it? The trip had run out of money, and I was summoned home to renegotiate the loan. Had to borrow most of the fare home from a mate. And so—” He lifted his free hand in a gesture of frustration, brushing right across Aidan’s hip on its way. “—here I am today.”

So the question is…

What’s the mountain that Dominic Hartington-George needs funds to climb in his next expedition?

The Book

How tangled can a romantic web get?

When gruff mountaineer Dominic Hartington-George seeks sponsorship for his latest expedition, his London PA insists on a more media-friendly profile—like dating celebrity supermodel Zeb Z.

Zeb can’t make the date, so he asks his identical twin, Aidan, to stand in for just one evening. Aidan, a struggling playwright, shuns the limelight to the extent people don’t even know Zeb has a sibling, but he reluctantly agrees.

When the deception has to continue beyond the first date, Aidan fights to keep up the pretense. Dominic likes his sassy, intelligent companion, and Aidan starts falling for the forthright explorer. But how long can Aidan’s conscience cope as confusion abounds? Will coming clean as “the other twin” destroy the trust they’ve built?


Author Bio

Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.

She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.

Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter three stage and plenty of other projects in mind... she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.

Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her here:

Website: http://www.clarelondon.com
E-mail: clarelondon11@yahoo.co.uk
Blog: www.clarelondon.com/blog
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/clarelondon
Twitter: https://twitter.com/clare_london
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/clarelondon
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/clarelondon/
Google+ : https://plus.google.com/u/0/+ClareLondon/posts


New Release - Romancing The Wrong Twin by Clare London

                        Romancing The Wrong Twin by Clare London

Today my book Romancing the Wrong Twin is released at Dreamspinner Press. This is maybe the most fun I’ve had writing a book for years! The inspiration for this story of identity swap came from the romantic comedies I’ve watched and read over the years – and I hope the readers get that feeling too. Watch how brusque, no-nonsense Dominic is persuaded to date an outrageous supermodel for publicity purposes! Read how the supermodel persuades his shy identical twin Aidan to go on the date instead! And how Dominic and Aidan start to find their lives changing – for the better, of course – from each other’s company.

I’ve just returned from a weekend away with author friends, where I’ve been plotting a future book in the same Romancing... series. This is the first writing retreat I’ve shared with others and it’s been a lot of fun. Productive, too! I needed to progress this book but I was dragging my feet (or typing fingers). Sharing a table with four other authors, accompanied only by the sound of keyboards tapping, and with no internet access, proved to be inspiring. We didn’t run word-count contests, demand that everyone wrote strictly to the timetable, or ask anyone to read out their work – it was just a supportive, friendly, comfortable atmosphere where everyone was encouraged to write during quiet hours set aside between meals. Then we’d eat (and imbibe a few drinks *g*) and maybe bat about some plot points or character queries. We also managed to fit in a walk along the sea front, plenty of ice cream, and nearly got time to tell ghost stories when the lights failed on Sat night!

I certainly hope we do it again sometime LOL.

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Dreamspinner |  B&N | KOBO | iTunes

Blurb

How tangled can a romantic web get?

When gruff mountaineer Dominic Hartington-George seeks sponsorship for his latest expedition, his London PA insists on a more media-friendly profile—like dating celebrity supermodel Zeb Z.

Zeb can’t make the date, so he asks his identical twin, Aidan, to stand in for just one evening. Aidan, a struggling playwright, shuns the limelight to the extent people don’t even know Zeb has a sibling, but he reluctantly agrees.

When the deception has to continue beyond the first date, Aidan fights to keep up the pretense. Dominic likes his sassy, intelligent companion, and Aidan starts falling for the forthright explorer. But how long can Aidan’s conscience cope as confusion abounds? Will coming clean as “the other twin” destroy the trust they’ve built?

Excerpt

“I know you didn’t want to do this,” Aidan murmured.

“What?”

The music was louder than when they’d arrived. Maxima was more club than restaurant and someone had upped the volume, but Aidan had no problem hearing Dominic over the background music.

“Go on this date. Be with me.” Aidan felt the devil rise up in him. “You said it yourself: we’re not much of a match. I expect your usual partners are far more impressed with your credentials.”

“My… what the hell?” Dominic looked genuinely surprised. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but I don’t set out looking for someone to impress. I want someone who’s good company, a strong character. Who’ll give as good as he gets.”

Aidan couldn’t help the wash of pleasure he felt at the indirect compliment. “No. I meant… well, you probably date bears like yourself, usually.”

“Bears?”

Shit. Aidan knew he’d slid onto thin ice, but his stupid tongue wouldn’t stop blabbing. “Sorry. I just meant tough guys like yourself. Big. Burly.” Could he sink any further into the pit he was digging?

But it seemed to have broken Dominic’s introspective mood. He started to laugh uproariously. “Burly? Does that mean you think I’m hairy too?”

H-G. No! Dominic! Aidan gulped. What was he meant to say to that after he’d been sitting there, peeking at the dark hairs curling over the neckline of Dominic’s shirt, wondering how far down the rest of it went? Whether Dominic’s legs were as deliciously furred, whether there’d be a decent treasure trail down to his groin that a man could tangle his fingers and nuzzle his nose into, to smell the sweet warmth of male skin….

Hairy skin. Strong arms. Warm, muscular thighs. Oh fuck.

The goose bumps ran over every inch of Aidan’s skin.

“I am hairy, can’t deny it. You like that idea?” Dominic’s voice was low and growly. He couldn’t have failed to notice Aidan’s sucked-in breath, the tensing of his stomach muscles. “Do you want to check out my hairy credentials?”

Aidan stared at him. Was that a joke? Was Dominic really attracted to him? Aidan had never found his build much of an advantage. Yes, he and Zeb were blessed with excellent bone structure, and in Zeb’s case the grace of a dancer, but out in the bars and clubs Aidan always seemed to blend into the background.

Ah, but he was meant to be Zeb now, wasn’t he?

“I think you’ve misjudged me, Zeb.” Dominic’s voice was very close to Aidan’s ear now. He’d placed his hand over Aidan’s, pressing Aidan’s palm onto Dominic’s thigh.

“I—what do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t have thought you were my type, I admit. But there’s a spark between us, isn’t there?”

Oh God, yes. But Aidan couldn’t admit that, could he? He gulped, wishing he’d eaten three pies, if only to soak up the effect of the champagne. The warm, heady excitement from his newfound courage wasn’t as robust as he’d thought.

Dominic smelled really good: a mix of vanilla aftershave, or maybe just soap, and a breath of tannin from the wine. Aidan couldn’t help it; his lips opened slightly and his tongue slipped out to moisten them.

“Dear Christ in heaven,” Dominic said on a ragged sigh. “You’re really gorgeous.” He sounded shocked. Aidan remembered him saying it when they met at Dominic’s house, but now there was an extra rumble underlying his voice. “Say my name again. I like it. Most people call me Dom.”

“Dom… Dominic.” Aidan heard the words but barely registered speaking them aloud. He was fixated on Dominic’s mouth, not his own.

Their lips touched.

Aidan gasped. It was the lightest of touches, but like the heaviest bolt from the blue. It was as if Dominic had breathed a flame into him through his mouth. His whole body shivered with excitement: a trickle of pure, heated delight on his skin compared to the sweaty air of the club. Dominic rested his hand lightly on Aidan’s shoulder, at the junction with his neck. He slid his fingers to the front of Aidan’s throat and stroked the hollow under his Adam’s apple.

It’s not enough! Aidan wanted Dominic to slide his hand down under the T-shirts—remind him why he was wearing so many, none of which actually fitted properly?—and touch his skin. Properly, firmly, with need.

With a soft moan of pleasure, Dominic leaned in to take the kiss deeper.

Aidan responded very, very willingly. He slid his outer arm around Dominic’s waist and pulled them closer together. Dominic lifted his other hand away from Aidan’s and rested it on Aidan’s knee. Their lower halves were hidden by the table, and Dominic’s knee pressed very tightly against Aidan’s. His large hand squeezed gently, and then slowly, teasingly slid up between Aidan’s thighs. He nudged harder, trying to push Aidan’s legs farther apart.

Aidan’s head was swimming from the kisses. Dominic’s mouth was still on his, his surprisingly soft beard rubbing along Aidan’s jawline, his breath quickening. When Aidan twisted to get even closer, he felt the heat from Dominic’s groin and Dominic’s solid erection against his hip. He wanted to climb onto his date’s lap, however ridiculous or rash that seemed. Instead he ran his free hand behind Dominic’s neck and leaned in, excited despite himself at making out in a semipublic club. Dominic had cupped Aidan’s cock and balls, trapped inside Zeb’s skintight jeans. Now Aidan was aroused too; the seam of the jeans was pressing against his flesh, causing a strange, awkward, intoxicating pain. He half closed his eyes, relaxing into the embrace, enjoying Dominic’s firm caresses under cover of the table. It had been a long time since Aidan did anything like this, a long time since he’d wanted to do it, in fact.

He wanted more, needed more. Ached for more—

And that was the exact moment a camera flash went off in his face.

Author Bio

Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.

She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.

Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter three stage and plenty of other projects in mind... she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.

Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her here:
Website: http://www.clarelondon.com
E-mail: clarelondon11@yahoo.co.uk
Blog: www.clarelondon.com/blog
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/clarelondon
Twitter: https://twitter.com/clare_london
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/clarelondon
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/clarelondon/
Google+ : https://plus.google.com/u/0/+ClareLondon/posts


Sweet Summer Sweat by Clare London

Sweet Summer Sweat by Clare London


BUYLINKS:



BLURB:

When you find a place where lust and sex rule life, and your every desire can be fulfilled, why would you ever want to leave?
Young runaway Scot and his boyfriend Jerry escape their deadbeat homes and families, hoping to leave prejudice behind them and travel to a new life in Las Vegas. Unprepared and naive, they're lost almost at once, and shelter at a run-down, deserted motel in the middle of the scorching hot Nevada desert. A place with secrets, run by staff both gorgeous and uninhibited, and driven by a mysterious sexual connection Scot’s never even dared to dream.
All but drugged by the lazy heat and the hedonism around him, Scot watches as Jerry is seduced away and realizes their relationship was nothing more than shared lust. Restless, Scot knows he wants true love and real understanding. Could he find it with the mysterious and elusive owner of the motel, Connor Maxwell? Connor seems to think so, every time he appears and pursues Scot for his own. But where does Connor come from? It seems the passion calls him into being at its own whim.
Eventually, what binds Connor and his friends to the motel may be too strong for Scot to break through. Scot has ambitions to travel, to make something of his life – but is his only option to embrace life at the motel in his true lover’s arms?
Or will that love be strong enough to release them both …

AUTHOR BIO


Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave
female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter three stage and plenty of other projects in mind... she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her here:






EXCERPT


The gate to the courtyard creaked quietly. Suddenly the vision had gone, and Scot was alone there, his eyes acclimatizing to the dark and the barely-there whisper of sand around his feet. For a moment he swayed, trying to re-establish himself in the here and now.

If that was where he actually was.

He glanced back over his shoulder and, to his surprise, saw Jerry at the entrance, wavering at the open gate as if nervous of going any farther. Scot had some sympathy with that. Was Jerry here to meet Vincent after all? Scot waited for the ache of betrayal and hurt, but again to his surprise, he wasn’t as devastated as he thought he’d be.

“Jerry?” he called softly.

Jerry padded into the courtyard, also barefoot, paused and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t answer, didn’t even meet Scot’s gaze. It was as if he didn’t see him at all. “Where are you?” he whispered into the half-dark.

Some crappy choice for a secret assignation, Scot thought harshly. No fucking place to hide here. Even if Vincent was a skinny little man who could crouch behind the pool and avoid Scot’s investigation—

“Jerry,” said another voice. Deep and seductive and totally welcoming.

Scot whirled back around to face the pool. Vincent was there in front of him! He was as clear as he’d been in Scot’s weird half-dream, and dressed the same. He looked real. Solid. Sexy. And he was smiling over Scot’s shoulder, directly at Jerry.

“Vincent,” Jerry said, and smiled back.

Jesus. Scot had never heard such a simper in Jerry’s tone! Instinctively, he took a few steps back toward the perimeter wall so that he could look more easily between Jerry and Vincent and…

“Hi Oliver,” Jerry said.

Oliver was there as well? How the fuck? Scot knew Oliver hadn’t been standing beside Vincent just two minutes ago, when Scot had been clinging to the pool wall and dreaming his weird, felt-so-real dream. But that’s where Oliver was now.

Scot stood, frozen, as Jerry walked past him.

“This is the first time,” Jerry said softly.

Vincent tilted his head to one side, a mischievous look on his face.

“The first time I’ve met Connor Maxwell,” Jerry added in explanation.

“So what do you think of me?” said another, new, but oh-so-fucking-not, voice.

Jerry’s laugh was astonishingly relaxed, like another, happier man’s, at least as far as Scot was concerned. “You’re hot,” he said, with humor in his tone. “Though I should have expected that.”

Scot watched with amazement as Connor stepped out from behind Vincent and took Jerry’s hand. They were all dressed the same as in the dream. As if they were just continuing it now, in front of Scot again. Scot recognized that smile on Connor’s face—he’d turned it on Scot in the kitchen the other day.

“But I think you do know me,” Connor said to Jerry.

“I… do?”

“You know me,” Vincent murmured in Jerry’s ear, his hand sliding around Jerry’s waist. “So you know Connor too. You see how easy it is?”

Jerry blinked hard: Scot knew it was his what the fuck? face, but Jerry didn’t challenge Vincent or Connor. Instead he smiled again, sleepily, but with what looked a lot like hopeful anticipation. “Yes. Yes, I think I do.”

Jerry! Scot wanted to grab the man, shake him, shout into his face, demand to know what was going on. But… what was the point?

“What happens now?” Jerry asked. He arched gently as Vincent kissed his neck, still holding him close. Jerry’s gaze flickered between the three men, his pupils dilating. Never once did he look over to where Scot stood.

“Welcome to Maxwell’s Motel, Jerry Harrison,” said Vincent.

“A proper welcome this time,” Oliver said mischievously. “From all of us.”

Connor continued as if neither of the others had spoken. “I hoped you would come tonight. Come and join us.”

“Enjoy us,” Vincent added.

They took hold of Jerry, one on each arm, Vincent’s lips at his throat, and drew him nearer the pool.

And Jerry spun in their arms, laughing, and then they all vanished into nothing.


New Release: Double Scoop by Clare London

BT_Banner




Favourite Flavours

Patrick and Lee have been working at the With A Kick shop since it opened.
Patrick calls himself the “logistics” man – he’s the cook, the recipe-maker, the creator of the fabulous alcoholic ice creams that the shop is known for – whereas Lee is “front of house”. It’s Lee’s cheerful, bouncy personality that customers love, and which keeps the business going. Patrick can be a bit grumpy!

And that’s their theme in a nutshell – a complement of characters, who each bring their own strengths and talents to the business. A combination of human flavours!

It’s been a challenge – but a fun one! – to think up new ice cream dishes for each book. Each partnership has merited their own creation, reflected in the title of each book. There’s been the cheeky Twist and Two Balls, the playful Hissed as a Newt, the darker Slap and Tickle, the sporty Bells and Balls, the melodic Pluck and Play, the Christmas Nice and Snow, the Valentine’s Smack Happy – and now the romantic Double Scoop.

The whole idea for the series was suggested by Sue Brown who’d seen a shop with alcoholic ices in London – though sadly it’s gone now (or we’d be writing there every week LOL). Of course, the recipes in the books are the product of our own imagination. But I’ve found enough genuine recipes that show ice cream and alcohol can work beautifully together.

My favourites in the series so far are the chocolate ice cream with brandy and popping candy from Slap and Tickle, and the vanilla, cherry and kirsch ice cream from Double Scoop. In fact, you could bundle the whole lot into one bowl and I’d be happy. I’m a shameless fan of ice cream.

What would be *your* favourite combination of flavours? You never know, you might inspire me to write another instalment around your recipe!



AboutTheBook

DoubleScoopFS
TITLE: Double Scoop 

SERIES: With a Kick #8 

AUTHOR: Clare London 

PUBLISHER: Jocular Press 

COVER ARTIST: Lou Harper 

LENGTH: 45,000 words 

RELEASE DATE: April 07, 2016


BLURB: A sudden disaster strikes everyone’s favourite ice cream shop, With A Kick. Not only does it threaten the livelihood of its owner, Patrick, but also his loyal assistant Lee. The last thing in the world Patrick would ever want to do is hurt Lee, either physically or emotionally. Why would he? He’s been falling in love with Lee since the day Lee invited himself into the shop’s business and Patrick’s life. But familiar and deeply-held insecurities hold Patrick back – he’s too gruff for Lee, too old, and his labour-of-love business is never going to make him rich.

Lee is weary of trying to make Patrick see how much he admires and cares for him. To Lee, it’s a very straightforward situation. Patrick is sexy, Patrick is smart, Patrick needs Lee’s help – and Lee needs Patrick in his life as more than a boss. All the characteristics Patrick finds inhibiting, Lee finds attractive. However, if Patrick’s apparently never going to make a move on Lee, how long should Lee wait to make his own move? Maybe Patrick thinks Lee is too clingy, too immature. Maybe Lee should give up his romantic hopes completely. If, that is, he can bear to do it.

The disaster at the shop brings them a whole new opportunity to work – and love – together to make a go of things. They’ve both got to look at each other in a whole new way. With the help of all their With A Kick friends, this could be make or break for the reluctant couple!


Excerpt  

Patrick liked this time of morning in London. It was still too cold in February to do without a jacket and scarf, but otherwise he savoured the onset of spring and the pale, bright sun that glistened off the pavements. He took deep, regular breaths, measuring a circular route around Shaftesbury Avenue and Charing Cross Road, pacing himself slower than he would have done when he was younger. It allowed him to take proper note of life happening around him. His friends preferred to travel to St James Park or Green Park, and run around a greener space, but Patrick lived and belonged here in Soho, and never sought anywhere else. He absorbed the exotic mixture of a new day’s aroma: diesel taxi fumes, the crinkled pages of old books, grocery store spices, lingering pub beer, and fried food being cooked at the fast food venues already awake and serving breakfast. He wasn’t a man to wax lyrical at the best of times, but he loved London with a passion.

Sufficiently exercised and with his appetite now fully awake and clamouring for coffee and food, he cut through the streets towards home. Turning the final corner, he slowed to a brisk walk, then stopped. He leaned on a street lamp, regaining his breath and easing his muscles. The front window of With A Kick was already in view with its stylish red paintwork and matching awning. Patrick took a moment longer just to stand and look at it. Every day was the same: the feelings of pride and excitement just as strong. Only a few years ago, he’d been a teacher, aiming for Assistant Head, and planning out the twenty-odd years to early retirement. Good grief. What a boring life in comparison to now!

He laughed wryly to himself. Amazing how ambition could be kickstarted by the end of a lacklustre romance and a previously secure job slipping away. Eighteen months ago, he’d been saddened but not surprised by his boyfriend Rafe moving on—they’d been drifting more out than into each other’s life for months. He’d also seen the writing on the wall about his school having to make redundancies. It had still surprised him how willingly he accepted his when it was offered. He’d always thought of himself as a man who planned and relied on a steady routine, yet in the space of a couple of months, he found himself single again, out of work and slightly depressed from the culture shock. It was as if the whole bloody world had crashed, as opposed to… what? ‘An opportunity for new adventures and new challenges’, his late dad would have said. His dad had always been a glass-half-full man. Patrick remembered him fondly.

Then things had slowly but steadily fallen into place for him. Now he was an entrepreneur of sorts and, look, his latest ice cream creations were displayed in the window of his own shop, on one of Lee’s brightly coloured posters!

Lee.

That was another thing that never changed: the small lurch of excitement in his gut when he thought of his friend and assistant in With A Kick. Patrick sighed, not at the overall thought of Lee—and Lee’s youth, and good looks, and energy, and cheeky jokes, and slim hips that he swayed outrageously when he was showing off in the shop, and that sexy, sexy grin… anyway, not all that, which Patrick had to admit never ceased to cheer him up every morning in the shop. No, the sigh was for the thoughts that inevitably followed. The ones that reminded him he hadn’t found much success with romance, that he was much older than Lee, much less good looking in a very bear-y type of way, much more tired of life, and with a grin that he couldn’t ever remember anyone saying was sexy

Good God. Enough self-pity for the morning! Lee had plenty of attention from other guys, he didn’t need his nearly-forty year old boss coming onto him as well like some besotted, horny teenager. Besides, Patrick had his commitment to the business to keep him busy, and that was no hardship now that they were starting to make proper money. Yes, when he thought of With A Kick, he did think of “they”. Lee and he were together in running the shop, at least.

"Patrick! Good morning."

Patrick turned and recognised Mr Amsel from the German café across the way, waving at him. Next to the elderly shopkeeper, a wiry young man straightened up from where he’d been crouching beside a pile of boxes. He was also smiling. Patrick waved back at them both. The community spirit among his fellow traders was one of the best things in his life nowadays. The young man, Curtis, was a regular supplier and odd-job man for all of the businesses around here, and Patrick made a mental note to chat to him about replacement tablecloths. Lee had suggested a funkier design, to match a range of ice cream flavours based on musical styles that Patrick was working on at the moment. And if anyone could get something new and unusual for the shop at a good price, it’d be Curtis. Patrick wasn’t in the mood for negotiation before his morning coffee, but he was sure Curtis would call into With A Kick later on for a mug of tea and a ‘Pluck and Play’, his favourite ice. He’d talk to him then.

He glanced back down the road, where the With A Kick shop-front light had just flickered on. Lee must be in early today. Patrick thought he’d declared it was his turn to open up, but he had to admit the thought of Lee bustling around inside the shop had Patrick happily quickening his step.

An alleyway ran down the side of the shop to the kitchen exit, and by the time he reached it, he’d decided they should talk to Curtis about getting some new shot glasses too. Bookings for adults-only, night time parties at With A Kick were really taking off. Out of the corner of his eye, he registered the kitchen light snapping on as well, and the thought of a hot, strong cup of coffee warmed his thoughts. Maybe Mr A would like to quote Patrick for some hot party snacks as well—

The sudden boom took his breath away: a burst of deep, throaty noise, gusting the air past Patrick’s head like the kick back from a jet. A mini tornado, belching without warning from the kitchen door, and bursting up the alleyway and onto the street.

Rubbish bags, stacked against With A Kick’s outside wall, tumbled and rolled as if tossed by giant hands. Loose packaging swirled up in a murky maelstrom, spinning and spiralling into the sky. A pavement display clattered to the ground across the road, and a passing bicycle swerved sharply in front of Patrick with a screech of brakes. A dog started barking furiously.

Patrick had been thrown backwards into the street, and staggered, trying to keep his balance. Someone behind him screamed; he watched the shocked cyclist’s mouth make the shape of “What the fuck was that?” His eyes stung; his hearing was muffled.  A youngster began to wail loudly. Stunned for those few seconds, Patrick was unable to move, unable to think clearly. Voices reached him, but all the words were garbled.

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Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with the weekly wash, waiting for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy.  Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.

Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.

All the details and free fiction are available at her website. Visit her today and say hello!


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April 12: RJ Scott :: Diverse Reader




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Twelve Days of Christmas, Day 4 - Clare London

Today's visiting author is the one and only, Clare London.

Clare is offering an ebook copy of Nice and Snow, this year's visit to With A Kick. Leave a comment here to enter the giveaway. It will close on 21st December, at 6pm, GMT.



Question 1.       What is your favourite Christmas movie?

Elf. It’s just such cheesy nonsense that I LOVE it!
Question 2.       What is your best Christmas memory


It’s actually a memory that I “borrowed” for my Christmas story Nice and Snow. I was very young, staying at my Nana’s house (which is now *my* house, never ceases to make me feel happy) and half asleep when I saw my Christmas sack start to appear around the door, as if Father Christmas was delivering it! But I was so worried I wouldn’t get my presents if I caught sight of him, I shut my eyes and snuggled back under the covers LOL.
Question 3.    What is the best present you’ve received?


Too many to choose! But I love the Christmas lights I got last year – pink and shaped like shoes!
Question 4.       What is the best present you’ve given?

You’d have to ask the gift-ee! But I was very pleased with the mug I had made for Son#2 the other year – with all 151 Pokemon on it! (he’s 21 next month, don’t judge us LOL).
Question 5.       Santa Claus – real or fake?

Fake. Sadly. My Sons have never forgiven me for refusing to keep up the pretence.
Question 6.       What is your favourite Christmas book?

A Christmas Carol. Dickens always stands the test of time.
Question 7.       Do you like eggnog?

Ugh, no.
Question 8.       What do you eat at Christmas?

Chocolate. Oh, and a turkey dinner! But as we’ll only be a group of 5 this year actually on Christmas Day, we’re cooking goose instead.
Question 9.       Be honest, when do you put up the Christmas tree?


One of the most hotly debated topics in our house! For me, it’d be around September *hehe*. For hubby, it’d be Christmas Eve, no earlier. It’s usually a compromise around the week before Christmas.
Question 10.       When do you open your presents?


Stocking are opened first thing in the morning – we all get one! Then presents follow after breakfast and/or when we see the rest of the family.
Question 11.       Do you have snow at Christmas?

Not for a long time *sob*.
Question 12.       What is the best – all-time – Christmas song. Ever!

I wish it could be Christmas every day.


Nice and Snow by Clare London

Buylinks: Amazon | All Romance | Smashwords

Blurb: Nuri’s expecting a quiet Christmas, driving his cab, doing some studying, enjoying good food and drink – and devoting some serious loving to boyfriend Eduardo. Occasionally he misses his homeland of Turkey, but he’s content to share the London celebrations with Eddy.

But what with Eddy’s distress over his new role at the local comedy club, interference in their love life from Nuri’s irrepressible brothers, a disturbing number of costumed Santas on the street, the dangerous slush on the roads, and then the portly, bearded man dressed in red, in need of an urgent cab ride…

It doesn’t look like things will be that quiet after all!

Christmas Blog: Review of Nice and Snow by Clare London

Nice and Snow by Clare London

Buylinks: Amazon | All Romance | Smashwords

Blurb: Nuri’s expecting a quiet Christmas, driving his cab, doing some studying, enjoying good food and drink – and devoting some serious loving to boyfriend Eduardo. Occasionally he misses his homeland of Turkey, but he’s content to share the London celebrations with Eddy.

But what with Eddy’s distress over his new role at the local comedy club, interference in their love life from Nuri’s irrepressible brothers, a disturbing number of costumed Santas on the street, the dangerous slush on the roads, and then the portly, bearded man dressed in red, in need of an urgent cab ride…

It doesn’t look like things will be that quiet after all!



Review: Aww, this was so lovely. A christmas story featuring Nuri and Eddy from A Twist and Two BallsI loved these two anyway, but add in Santas, a party, and some past christmas angst and you have a really sweet, sexy, loving tale. Loved it. 

Take the sleigh ride over to UK Gay Romance for a flash giveaway of Nice and Snow.

Excerpt: 

Nuri reached out and brushed a flake off Eddy’s forehead. It looked like snow had already started to fall. Behind them, the light from the street lamps was blurred around the edges in the surrounding mist.
“When I was much younger,” Eddy said, “like in the story I recalled, both mother and father were at home for most of the year. They had local theatre gigs, and mother was singing at the Palladium.” Eddy smiled, apparently without a trace of sadness for other Christmases since. “I remember that Christmas very fondly, actually.”

“And you received your theatre?”

“The play one? Yes. It was marvellous! The backdrops were only cardboard, of course. But the puppets had many happy months in my own productions.” He flushed as if embarrassed he’d found such pleasure in a simple toy, but Nuri had only ever had simple toys, and he knew only too well what uncomplicated, genuine joy could be found in them, especially if you had good company.

“You were your own Steven Spielberg. Maybe one day you will make a movie!”

Eddy laughed out loud, scaring a dozy sparrow from the bare tree in next door’s front garden. “I doubt it, but you never know.” He peered at Nuri, a look of puzzled wonder on his face. “What is it about you, love? You make me feel I could do all these things.”

Nuri bent and kissed him, at the same time as turning the key in the lock. They stumbled, slightly breathless, into the warmer hallway. “So you will do the With A Kick party?” Nuri kissed him again, just for the hell of it, as Eddy fumbled again with his individual front door. “They need you, Eduardo. They want you.”

“Oh hell, of course I will.” Eddy chuckled. “But don’t expect it to restore my belief in Father Christmas. I lost that for good when I found flakes of tobacco from my father’s distinctive cigarettes on the Santa sack that year.”

Nuri chuckled with him. No time to mourn Eddy’s lost Christmases, or even to plan the ones they would have together in future. They were both firmly planted in the present. Their present.

“About those other talents?” he murmured into Eddy’s ear. He slid his tongue along the outer edge, then trailed it down Eddy’s neck, just where he knew Eddy was most sensitive. Adem was right: Eddy did wriggle a lot. But it was the kind of wriggle that got him closer to Nuri; that snuggled him up against Nuri’s side as if they should fit together as one. The kind of wriggle that allowed him to run a hand down between them and cup Nuri’s groin with bold possessiveness.

They tumbled arm-in-arm to the bedroom, comfortably familiar with each other but still shivering with the excitement of their desire. Will it always be like this? Nuri wondered. Would they become complacent with each other; grow bored of each other’s company; lose this breathless, gasping, consuming craving for each other?

Eddy clicked on the side lamp and spun around, breaking Nuri’s train of thought. His lips reached clumsily but eagerly for Nuri’s, laughter shaking his body, his hand back on the mound of Nuri’s cock, swollen inside his jeans. No. Nuri knew he’d never feel any differently towards Eddy, any less.

Complacency? Boredom? It was never going to happen.



Flashbulb - Clare London (Flight HA1710 #3)

Flashbulb by Clare London

Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK) | All Romance

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.

Flight HA1710 series 
Excerpt:

Bly closed the front door behind him and Marc, leaned against the door frame, and took a long, slow breath. Part of it was to recover after his walk back to the house. Part of it was to settle his continuing excitement at the man beside him all the way

What a bloody shock it’d been! To see Marc on his doorstep, after all those weeks of thinking about him – and assuming he’d never see him again. And although Marc had been weary and dishevelled, he’d been as handsome as Bly remembered. Not only that, but the physical nearness was far more vivid than his dreams could be. With the smell of Marc’s cologne in his nostrils, and the easy masculine grace of his limbs as he leaned over the table, or walked across the room, or sat next to Bly with his long-fingered hand on Bly’s...

It wasn’t possible, was it? To feel so close to someone when you didn’t know anything about their family, or where they went to school, or how they voted, or what they liked to watch on TV, or whether they laughed at satire or slapstick. All on the basis of a few minutes of banter, a shared smile, and a quick, dirty, supremely thrilling hand job in an airplane toilet. Bly supposed he should just consider it as healthy lust – but something told him he’d be selling it short if he did.

“We never got anything for lunch,” Marc said, breaking into Bly’s reverie. “You hungry?”

“No,” Bly replied. “Maybe just a cuppa.”

Marc gave a small, quirky smile that showed he knew the Britishism. “Good idea. I’ll take a coffee if it’s on offer.”

Bly kept himself occupied with making the drinks, while Marc hovered in the kitchen doorway as if looking for something to do. Bly handed him his mug of coffee with a grin. “You’re off duty, you know. It’s my turn to serve the refreshments.” He could see the joke had gone awry almost immediately. Marc’s smile in return was strained, and his eyes narrowed with pain. Bly would have apologised, if he’d known what he was apologising for. Instead, he nodded them both through to the living room. It was sparsely furnished – Maura’s sister and brother in law were newlyweds and short on funds – but the sofa was a comfy secondhand. There was another armchair in the corner by the TV, but when Marc sat on the sofa, Bly went and joined him there without hesitation. He carefully parked his mug of tea next to Marc’s on a small foldaway table that held a small pile of books and a reading lamp.

Marc leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and wiped his hand over his face. Every movement showed his weariness, and he didn’t make any move towards his coffee. “I meant it, about going back to the US. Believe me, I understand what a dick I’ve been. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, just turning up.”

“And I meant it about you staying on.” Bly impressed himself with his firm, calm tone. “It’s not a problem.”

“Look, don’t get me wrong.” Marc looked wretched now. “You’ve been the good guy. But this was a mistake. All mine.”

“A bloody expensive mistake,” Bly said smartly, almost enjoying the brief confusion on Marc’s face. “And you were sure last night you’d done the right thing, weren’t you? So don’t talk any more crap. I just wish you’d tell me what’s troubling you.”

“What makes you think –?”

“Marc.” The bloody man wasn’t used to talking seriously, was he? Bly tried to gentle his voice, not sure whether Marc needed pushing or cajoling. “You told me you had nightmares. You asked me if I thought about the crash. Yes,” and he repeated it, “the crash we were both in. Seems to me you don’t want to face it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I’ve told you what happened to me, how I’ve been affected. Don’t you think it’s fair for you to do the same?”

Marc’s eyes were narrowed, his expression stricken. “I want to…” Then he seemed to change his mind, his doubt reasserting itself. “Bly, I really like you. But I barely know you. You barely know me.”

“Right.” Bly tried not to be offended. He knew Marc was struggling with opening up: he wished he knew him better, knew if now was the time to push. “But things might have been different between us, if things hadn’t been taken out of our hands.” His cheeks heated with the memory of Marc’s tongue in his ear, their shared, shocked laughter. Marc’s hand, firm and greedy, stroking his cock. “We both wanted more, right?”

Marc gave a bark of laughter. His cheeks looked flushed as well. “Fuck, yes,”

He’s remembering too! “And we were getting on well. We would have made that date for a drink, I know we would.”

Marc’s eyes met his. There was an unidentifiable look in them, but they were softer than before. “I know that too.”

“Good. But things didn’t go our way. At least, not at the time. But now…”

“Now?”

“Now, perhaps, we can start again.”

The room slipped into silence. Marc was restless, Bly could feel it. He wanted to put his arm around him. Actually, he realised with some amazement, he wanted to put both arms around Marc and pull him very close, and hold him until he calmed. Then kiss him. For a long, long time. Oh God. That worry about feeling close to someone so soon? Bly thought he’d probably just strayed from the theory into very definite reality.