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Book 1 Chef, Restauranteur | Book 2 Investigator, Psychic | Book 3 Model/Porn star | ||
by Susan Mac Nicol Men Of London series | ||||
by Susan Mac Nicol
Men Of London Book Three
Scarred both physically and emotionally after a motorcycle accident, twenty-five year old ex fashion model and porn star Oliver Brown is about to be stripped bare by flamboyant twink Leslie Scott—and they’ll rebuild love from the bottom up.
Baring the beast…
Twenty-five year old Oliver Brown is addicted. Two years ago, he was at the height of his career as “Nicky Starr,” fashion model, porn actor, partier without peer. Then came the accident. Hiding his scars, both emotional and physical, he’s gone into hiding. But fine clothing is some solace. A new suit by Debussy? Better even than a ride on his motorcycle Hulk or all the things he used to give and take on camera.
Enter Leslie Scott, the flamboyant, dark-haired, heel-and-tiny-short-wearing twink sent to deliver Oliver’s newest fix. A firecracker, Leslie is dapper, generous, in touch with his feminine side but all man, and as gorgeous as any garment ever made. He makes Oliver dream of ending his reclusion, of recapturing a future forever denied him. But for that to happen, Leslie would have to strip him to the bone. Only then will they rebuild life from the bottom up.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Content/Theme(s): M/M, Model/Porn star, Heel-wearing twink, Fashionista, Gay, GLBT
Release Date: May 21, 2015
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Giveaway, Special sale, Excerpt, Love You Senseless, Sight and Sinners & More
Suit Yourself Purchase links:
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Suit Yourself Excerpt:
The night before the fashion show, Leslie was taking a well-earned night off. He had a myriad of things to do—wash his hair, manscape and make sure his outfit was ready for tomorrow night. He was feeding his fish when his mobile rang. Hoping it was Oliver, he rushed to answer and he grinned when he confirmed it was indeed his boyfriend. Sprinkling a few more flakes of Golden Delicious Fish Food on the top of his tank, and hoping that his fish wouldn’t explode from eating too much, he answered.
“Hiya, sexy. It’s late, nearly midnight. What are you doing up?”
“Now there’s a leading question,” Oliver purred, his voice sending shivers down Leslie’s spine and inflating his cock. His voice was husky and slightly slurred. “I was enjoying some wine, and thinking of you. Thinking of you led to a hard-on and I decided I really needed a hand with it.” The sound of rustling clothing filtered down the phone.
Leslie’s dick liked that idea. He chuckled and put the now-sealed fish food container back on the table. “Is this like, a phone sex call, or something?”
“Or something,” Oliver said silkily and Leslie swallowed at the incredibly seductive tone. He made his way over to the bed. If he was having sex now, he wanted to be comfortable.
“What are you wearing?” Oliver growled.
Leslie looked down at his dark blue Andrew Christians and comfy white tee-shirt. “My blue high-heeled pumps and a thong.”
He was damned if he was going to tell Oliver the truth and be bleh.
His boyfriend’s indrawn breath and moan of desire went straight to Leslie’s groin.
“You’re wearing that around the house? Jesus. You are one sexy fucker.” Now Leslie heard the sound of flesh against flesh and he swallowed, his cock inflating.
“Have you got Skype?” Oliver murmured.
Leslie’s groin flamed as if he’d suddenly rubbed Deep Heat into his nether regions. “Yes,” he squeaked. “I use it to speak to my folks. Oliver, are you beating off?”
His lover laughed softly and Leslie could see how this man had become a world-famous porn star. It was the Nicky Starr sound Leslie had heard so often in his films, a sound so dirty, so tantalizing, so damned lust-inducing that Leslie thought he might self-combust.
“Oh honey, you do not want your folks in on this show,” Oliver murmured. “The things I want you to do for me…”
Leslie looked around for a paper bag, sure he was hyperventilating from the feeling of breathlessness in his chest. His dick was already wetting the front of his underwear, pushing out like the Queen Mary about to set sail. “You want Skype sex? Oh fuck, Oliver. That is so hot. I haven’t done that before.”
“Good. Your first time can be with me. I can say I popped your c2c cherry.”
“c2c?” Leslie fiddled with his laptop as he clicked on the Skype programme to open it. The familiar opening sound made him realise he was definitely doing this. He was going to have sex on camera. The penny dropped. “Oh. You mean camera to camera. I’m just getting it open now. Skype I mean. Hold on a minute.”
“Send me an invite. StarrSex69. Hurry up. I’m all set up and ready to go…” There was a low groan and a sudden intake of breath from the other side of the phone.
“Yes, give me a minute. The connection isn’t very good. I’ll be with you in a sec. I’m going to put the phone off now. Buh bye. Speak in a sec.” Leslie terminated the call and sent the invite and within seconds, it was accepted. He put the call on hold and got to work. He’d never stripped and re-dressed as quick before in his life. He rooted through his underwear drawer for his blue silk thong, slipped it on and then slid his feet into his heels.
He gave a quick look at himself in the mirror, satisfied himself he had nothing stuck in his teeth and he looked good enough for Skype. Then he got back onto the bed and pulled his laptop onto his lap. He hastily clicked the video icon to reveal himself then finally focused on Oliver’s profile. When he saw his boyfriend, he definitely needed that paper bag.
Oliver sat in the armchair in his bedroom. His tanned legs were stretched out in front of him, sprawled open and he was naked. One large hand was wrapped around his jutting, pink cock and he grinned sloppily as he saw Leslie. “Hi, sexy. What took you so long? I was thinking about you.”
“I love what you’ve done with that thing.” Leslie motioned toward Oliver’s cock as he peered closer at the screen. “You’re a little drunk, aren’t you?”
Oliver nodded vigorously. “Yep and horny as fuck.”
~~~~~~
Suit Yourself Purchase links:
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Special: Character Nicky Starr (Olive Brown in Suit Yourself) has his own website— www.NickyStarr.co.uk (opens in a new window) Caution: this is a NSFW fan adult site.
by Susan Mac Nicol
Men Of London Book Two
The murder of a shared friend leads a high-profile investigator and a psychic into a mystery involving lies, blackmail, BDSM—and into each other’s arms.
The men of London…
From Charing Cross to Waterloo, there’s no escaping love.
Seeing through…
Twenty-eight-year-old Draven Samuels has a tragic past, but as an investigator with a high-profile London company he now gets what he wants. Tough, sarcastic, and skeptical, he has no patience for lies and even less for people who waste his time. Even if they’re as beautiful as the wild and dark-haired Taylor Abelard. Especially when they’re talking over the body of a murder victim.
The darkness…
Psychic Taylor Abelard is used to people calling him a freak. He can see past events and feel the ghostly vibrations of people close to him who’ve passed on. It’s why he doesn’t get too close to the living. But this time, against his better judgment, despite Draven’s mocking rejoinders, Taylor will get closer than ever before. The mystery of a dead friend will lead the two men down a dark and seedy trail of blackmail and lies. Add in the heartbreak of a family tragedy, and events lead them straight into each other’s arms. By the end of this night, all their demons will have risen—and been banished with the dawn.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Content/Theme(s): M/M, Investigator, Psychic, Mystery, Gay, GLBT
Release Date: February 23, 2015
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Sight and Sinners Purchase links:
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Sight and Sinners Excerpt:
The man Taylor was blowing definitely didn’t know how the hell to keep quiet. Taylor’s lips were wrapped around his dick, while above him a man stood, panting and moaning, turning the air blue with his curses. Taylor stopped what he was doing, making the blow-job recipient groan in dismay, and glared at the sweaty face above him.
“For Christ’s sake, Georgie, can you stop it with the fucking porn noises?” He glanced around him nervously. “This is where I work, damn it, and if anyone hears you they’ll come outside to see what all the fuss is about.”
Georgie’s wide eyes cast a quick glance around the deserted alleyway behind ‘Music Mayhem’ where Taylor was employed, then looked down at Taylor kneeling between his legs.
“Sorry, mate, it’s just that you’re so damn good at this and it’s been a while.”
Taylor felt a surge of pride at that praise and went back to what he’d been doing. A few minutes later, he’d successfully made Georgie blow his load, while keeping the ruckus to a few grunts and sighs, and Taylor himself had been jacked off by Georgie’s rough hands. He watched as the satisfied thirty-year-old bricklayer went back to the building site he worked at. Taylor rubbed his mouth, still tasting eau de hunky builder and sighed. He and Georgie were a long-standing arrangement, buddies even to the point of sharing a few beers after work, but Taylor was really getting fed up of the casual sexual encounters. He wanted something else. A Gideon and Eddie relationship, perhaps.
Oh yes, that would be an idea. I could stop all this damn nonsense in cold alleyways.
Taylor gave another deep sigh, made sure he had no stray spunk on his clothing and opened the back alley door to get back to work.
Sometimes life sucked.
Blood and faeces. They were pungent smells that ripped into his nostrils and made his eyes water. The soft light of the dimly lit room cast shadows, gargoyles looming on red speckled walls. Somewhere in the room, a clock did what it was made to do. Tick. Tick. Tick. The air was heavy with the scent of death, redolent with grief and pain. It sucked the breath out of his body, leaving him helpless, useless.
Taylor screamed, gut-wrenching sounds that pierced through the heaviness of the air of his bedroom, as he fought his way out of the hell he found himself in. His hands grasped at bed covers that were already creased and wet with sweat and as his eyes snapped open in panic and despair. He took a deep, shuddering breath and shot upright in bed.
It was a chilly February night and although the window was open to let cool air in, the room was stuffy and smelled stale. Taylor thudded back against the wall and shivered as his naked back hit the peeling plaster, causing goose bumps to form on his clammy skin.
His bedroom door was flung open and a warm, male-scented bundle leapt onto his bed, wiry arms reaching for him to pull him close against a silky chest.
“Oh my God, Tay, you fucking scared me to death with that scream of yours!” Taylor’s housemate, Leslie, gazed at him in horror from eyes still crusted in sleep and hollowed with dark shadows. The last few nights had been keeping Leslie awake as well, as he came to Taylor’s aid when the nightmares hit with the force of an Acme sledgehammer raining down upon Taylor’s head.
“What the hell is going on, sweetie? Where are these horrible dreams coming from?” Leslie’s dark eyes framed with long lashes regarded Taylor with concern and fear. Taylor shuddered as Leslie’s fingers combed themselves though his sticky, wet hair and the closeness of his slim body gave solace to Taylor’s shaking form.
“The fuck I know, chéri.” Taylor heaved a deep breath. His French roots were buried deep and he didn’t have a good grasp of the language apart from schoolboy-type phrases when he and his family had travelled to Provence for family holidays. His father had insisted on English at home despite his Mauritian-born mother speaking French. “It’s the third time this week, different each time but still the same, you know?”
Leslie stared at him blankly. Taylor sighed and shifted in the bed, grimacing at the boxers stuck in the crack of his backside and groin. He reached down to pull them out and stop the constriction currently threatening to dissect his balls in half. Leslie let him go and sat back, his blue silk pyjama-clad body curling like a cat against the wall. Despite his emotional state, Taylor let out a soft chuckle. Even in the hot, humid nights, Leslie looked like a courtesan ready to please a prince. His innate sense of “good fashion or death” existed even when he slept. Leslie had always said if he died in his sleep, he wanted to go out with a sense of style.
“I mean, it’s the same scene—the blood, the despair—but each time the dream shows me the whole thing from a different angle. It will stop soon, like it always does. It’s just the whole initial phase thing of someone’s death that affects me.”
Not for the first time Taylor cursed his abilities, abilities that had plagued him since he was five years old. This whole “psychic” element of his psyche was really started to piss him off. He hadn’t asked for it and he as sure as fuck didn’t really want it.
~~~~~~
Sight and Sinners Purchase links:
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by Susan Mac Nicol
Men Of London Book One
One of London’s up-and-coming chefs, Eddie Tripp has just the right recipe to drive tragedy from the mind of Gideon Kent—and leave him senseless with desire.
A taste of forever…
An award-winning chef with his own restaurant and an inexhaustible passion, Gideon Kent once had everything. Then came tragedy. It stole more than Gideon’s home. He hasn’t cooked since.
Until Eddie Tripp. Fun-loving and vivacious, the Norfolk redhead’s a real up-and-comer in Gideon’s kitchen—and other places. Slim where Gideon’s broad, easy-going where Gideon is growly, he and Gideon seem polar opposites, and yet Eddie conjures flavors that would tempt anyone with a taste for perfection. The sauce of love is already simmering, and this pair is about to dine on the most delicious dish they’ve ever prepared. Because Eddie’s been Gideon’s missing ingredient all along.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Content/Theme(s): M/M, Chef, Restauranteur, Gay, GLBT
Release Date: October 9, 2014
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Special pricing: 99¢ until May 31, 2015
Love You Senseless Purchase links:
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Love You Senseless Excerpt:
Scorched skin and roast pork. Smells that would forever be etched into his nostrils, scraped onto the walls of his heart and mind like burning tattoos. The best thing to do would be stop smelling anything altogether so that the memory of that night could be buried deep within his psyche, never to see the light of day again. It was his only hope.
The man in the bed tossed and turned as his body tried to find solace in sleep. His skin glistened with sweat and he mumbled as he thrashed among messy covers. Hands moved in agitation like those of an Italian in conversation, flapping, expressive. The sheets slipped lower on his body as his legs scissored and the covers slid off onto the floor.
He muttered a loud expletive and then gave a sharp cry. The sound echoed through the dark bedroom. His eyes opened and he stilled. For a moment, there was only the sound of his heavy breathing as he struggled to compose himself. Finally, he swung his legs out of bed and stumbled unsteadily to the en-suite bathroom. There was the sound of pissing, a steady stream that went on until the flush of the toilet. Then he made his way back to the bed where he lay, gazing up with pained eyes at the ceiling.
Gideon Kent punished the piece of nicotine gum he was chewing with iron jaws. He scowled from inside the kitchen doorway of the restaurant he owned as he watched Eddie Tripp artfully place the last piece of garnish onto the dish he was plating. With a final look at the plate, like a man eyeing out a lover, Eddie picked it up and set it down on the long, heated conveyer belt that ran from one end of the stylishly designed kitchen of the restaurant to the other. The younger man watched it almost reverently as the plate made its way sedately down the belt, out into the serving area, toward hovering waiters who waited ready to pluck it up and serve it to a hopefully satisfied customer. The belt was one of Gideon’s indulgences; he had seen the same practice being used in New York when he was on holiday there.
Eddie turned and whistled softly as he prepared the next plate, his hands darting like dragonflies as he skilfully picked up the ingredients to prepare yet another masterpiece. His wavy, dark red hair was held in place by a hair net, something Gideon insisted on when anyone was in the kitchen. The sous-chef had ears that were slightly larger than normal, which Gideon found endearing—why, he had no idea. Ears weren’t a big turn-on for him in the usual course of things. The wide smile on Eddie’s expressive, freckled face told everyone who saw him that he was enjoying himself. Gideon wanted to kiss the smile off Eddie’s face and fulfil his lustful longings to pound the man into the table. He had wanted to do that about two days after the man had joined the staff of Galileos. The red-headed man appealed to Gideon like no one had in a very long time. He didn’t like the feelings Eddie caused in him, something possessive and definitely needy. It had been a little while since he had gotten laid, and craving one of his employees sucked.
“Boss? What’s that look for? Is something wrong?” Carmen de Luiz, his secretary, office manager and good friend, placed a soft hand on his arm as she peered at him anxiously out of black-rimmed eyes, her black lips set in a worried curve. Gideon was used to her whole new goth look now and it no longer made him start. Carmen’s lips were speckled with what looked like icing sugar and he suspected she’d been sampling the new dessert dish he knew Eddie was working on—pirouettes of raspberry shells with crème fraiche or some such sweetly named concoction. He felt a flare of envy surge through him at the thought Eddie was creating such sweet treats. Another thing blotting that particular employee’s copybook.
He shook his head in frustration as he shoved the gum to one side of his mouth. “No, nothing wrong. And if you keep sneaking in to sample Eddie’s wares, you’re going to get bloody fat.” He disregarded Carmen’s moue of hurt and carried on. “But does he have to look so damn happy all the time? I swear that man is the fucking reincarnation of the bluebird of happiness.” He ran a hand over his own shortly cropped light brown hair in frustration then tugged at his neatly manicured beard.
Carmen shook her head. “Baby, then you must be the reincarnation of the raven of doom.” She sniggered as he scowled even deeper. “Giddy, honey, chill out. Eddie loves his job; you should be pleased you have such an asset in your kitchen.”
Gideon turned freezing eyes on her. “Firstly, don’t call me Giddy. You know I hate it. Secondly, I’m well aware of what an asset I have in my kitchen, thank you. I employed him, remember?” Oh, he knew about Eddie’s assets. Those green eyes, that piercing stare, those talented fingers that look like they would play havoc with his dick. He pushed that thought out of his mind. “But I don’t need to see his face wreathed in merriment every time I look at him. It’s bloody unnatural.” He scowled. “And I heard he broke another plate this morning? Does that boy think we’re made of bloody money?” He chewed frantically on his bland piece of tasteless gum. He wanted a damn cigarette but that wasn’t going to happen.
Carmen sighed. “It was just one plate. And he’s twenty-four, not a boy. I wish you’d stop calling him that. You’re only four years older than him, old timer.”
“Well, he looks like a kid. All long limbs and flailing arms and costing me a fortune when he knocks something off or drops it.” Gideon’s inner bitchiness at not being able to control his feelings for Eddie rushed to the surface.
“Jesus, have you not had any for a while? You’re being a real prima donna, even for you. Give the man a break, will you?” Carmen sounded a little pissed off as she marched over to Eddie’s side, probably to resume her tasting session, and Gideon knew he’d better back off. A truly riled Carmen was not someone he wanted right now. So he ignored her, glowered and left the kitchen behind to enter the main restaurant.
It seemed as if all was usual, running like a well-oiled machine, but it never hurt to make sure. As the owner he took great pride in making things happen. He’d rather be in the kitchen creating dishes but he knew that wasn’t on the cards. He looked around, his mood even darker. It was seven o’clock on a chilly September night and the place was packed.
Sarah Townsend, his very capable front of house manager and his right hand as far as the running of Galileo’s was concerned, smiled at him as she led a couple to their table. This restaurant in London’s Soho district was Gideon’s pride and joy. It was also his home, as he occupied the large, roomy two-bedroomed flat above the restaurant. He was proud of his almost penthouse-like abode, furnished with all the mod cons and able to be accessed from inside the restaurant. It also had a private entrance, just the way he liked it.
Galileo’s was currently abuzz with patrons. Some sat enjoying cocktails and pints at the highly polished dark oak bar along one side of the restaurant. Others were seated in the table area, an opulent arena of red and bronze décor, heavy wooden tables and the ambiance of the Renaissance era. To the left was the huge brass telescope he’d found at an antique store and had cost him almost the price of what he thought a black market kidney would fetch. Indeed, when he’d been told the price he’d thought someone had reached inside and ripped it out. But he’d paid the money because he really wanted it. And what Gideon wanted, Gideon tended to get.
~~~~~~
Special pricing: 99¢ until May 31, 2015
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Other titles by Susan Mac Nicol:
Alexander | Keeping |
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Punishment | Alchemy | Alchemy Climax |
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Be on the lookout for Susan Mac Nicol's future release(s): Feat Of Clay, Book 4, coming August 2015
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FAB post thank you for joining the promotion. xxx
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