Note: due to the closure of Samhain at end of Feb 2017, some of the books below will be temporarily unavailable for sale from 1 March 2017 but I am gradually rereleasing these*
Enemies Like You is my first co-written book with the wonderful Annika Martin. It’s an over-the-top spy/forbidden bodyguard romp with a big romance finish
They’re dangerous men. Absolute enemies. And totally hot for each other.
Will has never met anyone like Kit. He’s arrogant. Gorgeous. Lethal. The most expensive bodyguard money can buy.
And Will can’t seem to resist him.
A simple command in Kit’s cut-glass accent makes Will want things he’s never wanted, do things he’s never done. Their red-hot chemistry is off the charts.
Just one problem: Will has vowed to kill the billionaire that Kit is hell-bent on protecting.
And Kit has secrets, too–his own reasons for sacrificing his soul, piece by painful piece, to keep one of the worst men on earth alive.
Enemies With Benefits is a free prequel of Enemies Like You.
They’re dangerous men. Absolute enemies. And totally hot for each other.
Two years ago, the men in Will’s unit were killed in an ambush because they were betrayed. Now Will has a chance to go after the corrupt billionaire who sold them out.
One problem: the billionaire’s bodyguard. Nobody knows what he looks like; they only know him by the trail of bodies he leaves behind.
Will their passion destroy them both?
Kit’s a hardened assassin who’ll do what it takes to protect his boss. But when Will moves on the billionaire at an elite party, things with Will and Kit take an unexpected—steamy—twist.
Now Kit has to convince Will to walk away–from his quest for justice, and from the red-hot passion that’s spinning out of control.
A Gathering Storm is part of the Porthkennack series published by Riptide Publishing.
When grief-stricken scientist Sir Edward Fitzwilliam provokes public scorn by defending a sham spiritualist, he’s forced to retreat to Porthkennack to lick his wounds. Ward’s reputation is in tatters, but he’s determined to continue the work he began after the death of his beloved brother.
In Porthkennack, Ward meets Nicholas Hearn, land steward to the Roscarrock family. Ward becomes convinced that Nick, whose Romany mother was reportedly clairvoyant, is the perfect man to assist with his work. But Nick—who has reason to distrust the whims of wealthy men—is loath to agree. Until Fate steps in to lend a hand.
Despite Nick’s misgivings, he discovers that Ward is not the high-handed aristocrat he first thought. And when passion ignites between them, Nick learns there’s much more to love than the rushed, clandestine encounters he’s used to. Nevertheless, Nick’s sure that wealthy, educated Ward will never see him as an equal.
A storm is gathering, but with Nick’s self-doubts and Ward’s growing obsession, the fragile bond between the two men may not be strong enough to withstand it.
Unnatural is a standalone offshoot of the Enlightenment series featuring a character who appears in Beguiled and Seasons Pass.
Captain Iain Sinclair has looks, charm, military honours—even the favour of the king himself. He has everything—everything, that is, except the friendship of the one man whose good opinion he has ever cared for, scientist, James Hart.
James has loved Iain all his life, but after the last disastrous encounter between them, he vowed to accept no more crumbs from Iain’s table. If Iain cannot be the lover James wants, then James will have no more to do with him.
Disenchanted with his career, and miserable without James in his life, Iain decides to leave military service and embark upon a new career in India. Before he leaves England behind, though, he is determined to try one last time to reconcile with his dearest friend.
An invitation to a country house party from James’s sister provides the perfect opportunity to pin James down and force him to finally listen to Iain’s apology. But when Iain discovers that an apology is not enough—that James is not willing settle for less than a lover—he is forced to reconsider everything: his life, his future career, and most of all, his feelings for James.
Humbug is a contemporary M/M romance version of A Christmas Carol. Quint Flint, a management consultant who specialises in downsizing, is the Scrooge character, and Rob Paget is his long-suffering colleague and love interest.
Quin Flint is unimpressed when his gorgeous colleague, Rob Paget, asks for extra time off at Christmas. As far as Quin is concerned, Christmas is a giant waste of time. Quin’s on the fast track to partnership, and the season of goodwill is just getting in the way of his next big project. But when Quin’s boss, Marley, confiscates his phone and makes him take an unscheduled day off, Quin finds himself being forced to confront his regrets, past and present, and think about the sort of future he really wants…and who he wants it with.
Bryn Llewelyn spends his life strung out on too much caffeine, fighting sleep at every turn. He can barely hold down a part-time job as he lurches from day to day, perpetually exhausted.
He is trying to avoid Somnus, the dream world where people like Bryn—dreamwalkers—roam during their sleeping hours.
Bryn has been dreamwalking since he was child. He’s never found navigating Somnus easy, but lately it’s become much, much harder. Each time he manifests in Somnus, he is helplessly drawn to a sinister tower. Something evil is imprisoned there—something that wants out—and every time Bryn falls asleep, he finds it more difficult to resist its lure. Not to mention the compelling man who patrols its walls…Laszlo Grimm.
As a teenager, Laszlo suffered from a sleep disorder so profound, his family had him locked up for treatment. Whilst the brutal “therapy” he underwent was successful, Laszlo paid a steep price for it—his ability to feel emotion. Now, for the first time in years, Laszlo’s night terrors are returning, and with them, his fears about being locked up again.
When Bryn and Laszlo meet in the real world, Bryn recognises Laszlo as the man he has already met in Somnus, but not only does Laszlo not know Bryn, he can’t even remember any of his dreams.
Bryn fights to open Laszlo’s eyes to the truth but Laszlo cannot quite shake the conviction that his old condition is catching up with him…not least because Bryn Llewelyn is awakening emotions in him he hasn’t felt in years.
Seasons Pass is a very short bonus story for Enlightenment series fans. It recounts certain events from Murdo’s point of view that took place between books 1 and 2 but should not be read until after book 3 as it contains spoilers for book 3.
It’s April 1822 and two years have passed since Lord Murdo Balfour was last in Edinburgh; two years since he met low-born lawyer, David Lauriston. Back then, Lauriston’s naïve idealism and self-loathing provoked Murdo’s scorn, yet Murdo has not been able to forget him.
When Murdo is asked by his father to return to Edinburgh for the King’s forthcoming Scottish visit, his memories of his last time in the city are stirred up again. Frustrated by his inability to forget Lauriston, he decides to seek refuge in an anonymous encounter at Kit Redford’s discreet establishment. But will Murdo find the oblivion he seeks at Kit’s, or something else entirely?
Enlightened, the third and final book in the Enlightenment series, concludes the story of principled lawyer David Lauriston and cynical aristocrat Lord Murdo Balfour.
David Lauriston has been recuperating at Lord Murdo Balfour’s Laverock estate for the last five months. At Laverock, he has regained his health and confidence and has found—with Murdo—more happiness and contentment than he has never known before.
David is all too aware that some day soon he will have to leave Laverock—and Murdo—and return to his legal practice in Edinburgh, just as Murdo will have to return to his life in London. But when David’s mentor, Patrick Chalmers, asks David to return to Edinburgh to visit him on his deathbed, it seems that day has come sooner than either David or Murdo would have wished.
Chalmers begs David to undertake one last piece of business for him: to secure the future of Chalmers’s daughter Elizabeth. But to carry out his old mentor’s wishes, David must travel to London, with Murdo.
No sooner have the two men arrived in the capital than they encounter Murdo’s ruthlessly manipulative father, who reveals a shocking secret that rocks David to his foundations. What’s more, when David discovers Elizabeth is facing far greater danger than even her father feared, he is determined to help her, no matter the cost to his own safety.
As the stakes rise, it is Murdo who must choose what he is prepared to sacrifice to keep David at his side, and ask whether there is any possibility of lasting happiness for men like them.
Beguiled, the second book in the Enlightenment trilogy continues the story of David Lauriston and Lord Murdo Balfour.
The third book, Enlightened is planned for release on 6th May 2014.
Two years after his last encounter with cynical nobleman Lord Murdo Balfour, David Lauriston accidentally meets him again in the heart of Edinburgh.
King George IV is about to make his first visit to Edinburgh and Murdo has been sent North by his politician father to represent his aristocratic family at the celebrations.
David and Murdo’s last parting was painful—and on Murdo’s part, bitter—but Murdo’s feelings seem to have mellowed in the intervening years. So much so, that he suggests to David that they enjoy each other’s company during Murdo’s stay in the capital.
Despite his initial reservations, David cannot put Murdo’s proposal from his mind, and soon find himself at Murdo’s door—and in his arms.
But other figures from David’s past are converging on the city, and as the pomp and ceremony of the King’s visit unfolds around them, David is drawn into a chain of events that will threaten everything: his career, his wellbeing, and the fragile bond that, despite David’s best intentions, is growing between him and Murdo.
Provoked is book 1 in the Enlightenment trilogy.
David Lauriston, a man of high principles and a lawyer in early 19th century Scotland, falls in love with Lord Murdo Balfour, a rakish cynical aristocrat who is determined to wring every bit of pleasure he can out of life…
Tormented by his forbidden desires for other men and the painful memories of the childhood friend he once loved, lawyer David Lauriston tries to maintain a celibate existence while he forges his reputation in Edinburgh’s privileged legal world.
But then, into his repressed and orderly life, bursts Lord Murdo Balfour.
Cynical, hedonistic and utterly unapologetic, Murdo could not be less like David. And as appalled as David is by Murdo’s unrepentant self-interest, he cannot resist the man’s sway. Murdo tempts and provokes David in equal measure, forcing him to acknowledge his physical desires.
But Murdo is not the only man distracting David from his work. Euan MacLennan, the brother of a convicted radical David once represented, approaches David to beg him for help. Euan is searching for the government agent who sent his brother to Australia on a convict ship, and other radicals to the gallows. Despite knowing it may damage his career, David cannot turn Euan away.
As their search progresses, it begins to look as though the trail may lead to none other than Lord Murdo Balfour, and David has to wonder whether it’s possible Murdo could be more than he seems. Is he really just a bored aristocrat, amusing himself at David’s expense, or could he be the agent provocateur responsible for the fate of Peter MacLennan and the other radicals?
Unforgivable (2013 Samhain)
The Lady’s Secret (2011, Carina Press)
“I absolutely loved it! The Lady’s Secret is an emotionally intimate, masterful romance. I love books with cross-dressing heroines, and this is one of the best I’ve ever read.”Courtney Milan
Former actress Georgiana Knight always believed she and her brother were illegitimate–until they learn their parents were married, making them heirs to a great estate. To prove their claim, Georgy needs to find evidence of their union by infiltrating a ton house party as valet to Lord Nathaniel Harland . Though masquerading as a boy is a challenge, it pales in comparison to sharing such intimate quarters with the handsome, beguiling nobleman.
Nathan is also unsettled by Georgy’s presence. First intrigued by his unusual valet, he’s even more captivated when he discovers Georgy’s charade. The desire the marriage-shy earl feels for his enigmatic employee has him hoping for much more than a master-servant relationship…
But will Nathan still want Georgy when he learns who she truly is? Or will their future be destroyed by someone who would do anything to prevent Georgy from uncovering the truth?
Here’s an excerpt:
Half past nine in the morning.
Georgy leaned one shoulder against the wall outside Harland’s bedchamber, waiting for the maid to arrive with his breakfast tray. As was his habit, Harland had left precise instructions for her on his return to the house in the early hours. The dashed off note, handed to the night footman, was waiting at her place at breakfast this morning. It read “Breakfast in my bedchamber at half past nine. Coddled eggs. Coffee. Riding clothes.”
During the two hours between eating her own breakfast and taking Harland’s to him, Georgy had pressed the wrinkles from a pile of coats and waistcoats. It was a hot, sweaty task and she was red-faced and sticky when she finished. She just had time to run to her own chamber to wash her face and tidy her hair before making her to way to her master’s apartments to wait for the maid.
She’d been waiting at Harland’s bedchamber door for several minutes by the time the maid arrived—Rosie, a plump, silent girl from the kitchens who Tom the footman insisted was “sweet on George.”
“Morning, Rosie,” Georgy said.
Rosie blushed beetroot red—she always did when Georgy spoke to her. The china on the tray rattled as she handed it over. She mumbled a greeting and scurried away.
Georgy put the tray on the occasional table that stood outside Harland’s door and quickly checked the contents. It was all there: his morning newspaper, the pot of coffee, the neat plate of eggs huddling under the silver dome, the buttered toast and the sliced orange. Harland was terribly partial to oranges. He hadn’t said in his note that he wanted one, but he had one every morning, always sliced into eight pieces.
Georgy’s mouth watered. She adored oranges too. It felt like forever since she’d had one. The juicy, glistening flesh looked so appealing in the little crystal bowl Mrs. Simms had sliced it into. She wondered briefly if Harland would notice if she stole one little piece. But of course he would. There were always precisely eight pieces and it would be just like him to notice if there were only seven.
She lifted a hand and rapped on the door. She counted to ten before she opened the door, and even then only a fraction.
Harland’s voice—his early morning voice, still husky from sleep—was the final key to her entry. Georgy lifted the tray and entered backwards, using her back to swing the door open. When she turned around, Harland was in the process of sitting up. He wore nothing, as usual. His dark hair was mussed, his eyes half-closed and sleepy as he passed a weary hand over his face. Three o’clock this morning he’d come in, Jed had said. If she were Harland, she would have slept till lunch.
She stared at his torso while he fiddled with his pillows. It was a habit she had formed. Safer to look there while she stood waiting with the breakfast tray than at his face. Harland was lean but his shoulders were broad. Naked, he was fascinating to her, his chest taut with muscle and smattered with dark hair that whorled around his flat nipples and then down, arrowing in a line towards his groin, where it flared again. She had caught a glimpse of his groin a few times when he got out of bed or when he was putting on his drawers. She always looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her strange interest in him.
When Harland was sitting up comfortably, his back resting against the pillows, she stepped forward. She fiddled with the clever little legs folded under the tray that enabled it to bridge Harland’s thighs. It was a well-made thing. Polished cherry wood, inlaid with mother of pearl. And a simple bit of ingenuity in those folding legs. That was typical of Harland, who loved well-made things and had a passion for curios, whether it was a tray with folding legs, a rapier concealed inside a gold-tipped cane, or even a snuff box with a pornographic engraving inside the lid.
Georgy lifted the coffee pot and poured a cup of darkly fragrant brew. Harland closed his eyes and inhaled appreciatively. Georgy replaced the pot and lifted the silver cover on the coddled eggs.
“Thank you, Fellowes,” Harland said. It was not so much an expression of gratitude as a dismissal and Georgy took it in the spirit it was given.
“Very good, my lord,” she murmured. She placed the silver cover and napkin neatly on a side table and withdrew to the neighbouring dressing room to get his riding clothes ready.
From the wardrobe she drew a green velvet riding coat and ran a brush over it to make the nap lie correctly. Buckskin breeches. Clean linen—drawers, a shirt, a cravat. All of it pristine white, and the cravat starched to perfect straightness. Silk hose. A tall, black curly-brimmed hat that she turned over and over in her hands, enjoying its craftsmanship, the pleasing lines of it, its dense, velvety blackness. She brought out his riding boots, cleaned just yesterday, even the soles. They were so polished they looked as though they’d never been worn. Even so, she fished out a soft cloth and gave them one final burnish. As she worked, the tinkle of cutlery, the rattle of china and the rustle of paper reminded her that Harland was breakfasting a few yards away.
At ten o’clock precisely, there was a quiet knock on the bedchamber door. Georgy left the dressing room and walked back to the bedchamber to answer. Harland had put the tray to one side, having consumed its contents, and was immersed in his paper.
Rosie again. This time she bore a kettle of boiling water, a wadded cloth protecting her hand from heat of the handle. She and Georgy managed an awkward transfer, fingers and thumbs crossing so as not to touch it.
“Wait a moment and I’ll bring you the tray.”
“Yes, Mr. Fellowes.” More blushing.
Oh god, was it true what Tom said? Georgy hoped not. She didn’t relish the idea of any of the other servants watching her too closely.
She took the kettle through to the dressing room, then retraced her steps, picking up the tray on the way. She opened the door and Rosie stepped forward to take the tray from her, her fingers brushing Georgy’s as she did so. Georgy recoiled slightly at the touch. Her movement almost sent the tray tumbling and caused a god-awful clatter as the dishes knocked over and rolled around on the tray.
“Oh dear. I’m sorry, Mr. Fellowes!” Rosie cried.
“Don’t apologise. My fault entirely,” Georgy said as she righted the dishes.
She felt the heat of her flushed face as she closed the door on the maid. She felt so stupid. Above anything else, she needed not to be noticed in this household. She took care to speak little and to avoid company. But just now, wound up by Tom’s teasing, she’d acted as though Rosie was about to ravish her and made a spectacle of herself. It was the sort of mistake she couldn’t afford.
When she turned around it was to find, as she’d expected, that Harland had lowered his paper and was looking at her. His eyes focused upon her—a rare occurrence, and unsettling. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.
“Everything all right, Fellowes?” He hated noise in the mornings and Georgy was not unaware of the subtle rebuke in his mild words.
“Yes, my lord. I’m sorry about the noise.”
He nodded and put his paper back up. “Go on through to the dressing room. I’ll come for my shave in five minutes.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Georgy went back to the dressing room and her preparations. She poured half the kettle into a basin that stood beside the chair Harland liked to be shaved in, and added a few drops of scented oil to it. It was Harland’s own blend and it smelled of cloves and cinnamon, a spicy and clean smell that was absolutely him. In a separate bowl, she whipped up a thick lather with a stiff shaving brush. The razor itself she liberally stropped before testing the edge and finding it to her satisfaction.
When she had first begun work as Harland’s valet, shaving him had been the most unnerving task she’d had to do. She’d practiced on Max and Will before she’d arrived, but having left them nicked and bleeding, she had realised she wasn’t going to able to bluff it. And so she’d explained to Harland on her first day that her previous master had sported a beard he’d tidied himself. “George” hadn’t been called upon to shave anyone else before.
Harland had merely shrugged. “You’ve got to learn sometime,” was all he’d said. That first time, she’d nicked him twice and taken three times as long as she did now. He had been surprisingly forbearing about it. And she had learned quickly. She got plenty of practice, often shaving him twice a day, once in the morning and once before he left for whatever ball or dinner he was attending that evening.
In the evenings, he preferred to be shaved while he took his bath. He liked baths. Tom and Jed cursed his fastidiousness, since they had to carry the water upstairs. Jed swore it was unhealthy to bathe so much. Georgy sympathised with their complaints, but secretly she thought she would bathe every day too, if she were an earl. Bathe every day and eat oranges and purchase hats and boots of such extraordinary magnificence that no one, even a woman, could help but covet them.
She was thinking of him lounging in his bath, his long limbs languid, when the man himself strolled into the dressing room, loosely garbed in a dark red robe, and made for the chair. He sat down, saying nothing. Merely leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Georgy took a towel and draped it about his neck and shoulders. She slung another over her own shoulder to wipe the blade upon.
Silence. This was his way. Most mornings, he would say little more than “Good morning” and “Thank you.” Georgy took her cue from him, speaking only when spoken to, and then keeping her comments brief. Nor did Harland much look at her. While she buzzed around him—shaving him, helping him on with his coat and boots, tying his cravat, brushing away each and every speck of lint—his eyes simply drifted past her, uninterested, as though she were invisible.
She couldn’t help but be faintly peeved. She knew it was ridiculous; she should be glad he barely noticed her. Her mission was to stay in this household, undetected, and then infiltrate Dunsmore’s house. Harland’s indifference could only be helpful. Yet at times, it irked her.
Even now, he sat in his chair with perfect unconcern for the fact that his robe was unbelted. Oh, he was loosely covered, but she could see a swathe of bare chest and another of thigh. His state of undress didn’t even give him pause—well, why should it?
It gave her pause though. And more besides. While she outwardly presented the same collected mask she’d adopted from her first interview with Harland, inwardly she seethed, bubbling with a strange mix of fascination and resentment. And lust. God yes, lust. Lust had her paralysed in her bed at night as she thought of him.
She had been brought up short by his beauty in that first interview, but she could never have imagined what it would be like to be with him, day in and day out. In his dishabille, mussed from sleep, half-dressed or even not dressed at all. In his bath, in his bed, draped loosely in silk, or more restrictively in tailored finery—she was seeing him as women rarely saw men other than their husbands. She was seeing the warm, living flesh beneath the pristine clothes. Warm flesh, lean muscle, smooth skin, dark hair. Eyes like the night.
See the Eva’s Stuff page for details of titles released as Eva Clancy