Bailey Bradford competition winner

Congratulations – we have a winner courtesy of Random Picker.

Well done – Nordic Girl – 2013, I’ll pass your details to Bailey and she’ll be in touch.

Here’s the link to the draw page 🙂

Trick or Treat?

Lots of treats I hope! Happy Hallowe’en to all who are enjoying the celebrations.

Happy Halloween 1!

Here’s a suitably ghostly excerpt from Black Dog… enjoy!

The cellar door was low and arched, with a heavy iron latch. He lifted it up and pushed the door open. It creaked dramatically and would have made a great prop in one of those haunted house movies. Garrick winced at the thought—he’d had enough of ghosts to last a lifetime.

Cool air from the cellar washed over him, and he peered down into the gloom. There was a torch on a ledge inside the door because there were no lights down below, and it was pitch black. The beam split the darkness, lighting up ancient wooden shelving, as he descended the stone staircase. Rows of dusty bottles sat cradled in their racks, and he picked his way carefully between them. Younger whites were, inconveniently, right at the back and he ran the torch up and down the shelf so that he could read the labels.

He was just reaching for a bottle when there was a resounding crash from the direction of the stairs as the cellar door slammed shut.

Garrick dropped the torch in shock and it went out, leaving him in absolute blackness. He dropped to his knees to grope around on the ground and banged his head on the corner of the shelving. He cursed when a trickle of warm blood slid into his eye. As he scrubbed at the stickiness a scratching noise sounded from the other side of the room and every muscle in his body froze.

They’d never had a problem with mice or rats at Faversham—Merlin’s voracious appetite saw to that—and this sounded bigger, anyway. His hand brushed the torch and he snatched it up, leaning against the wall as he fought to get it back on. The scratching was getting closer and closer. His heart was pounding and his imagination conjuring all kinds of wild images. Why wouldn’t the fucking torch work?

The noise suddenly stopped, but the silence was even more unnerving. There was a rush of air and Garrick yelled in pain as claws raked his chest. He lifted his arms to protect his face and the torch came on, flooding the cellar with light.

There was nothing there. Nothing. Garrick grabbed a random bottle and ran for the stairs. He yanked the door open and lurched out into the passage, then leaned against the cool wall, breathing heavily.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He slammed the door shut and tried to calm down with a few deep breaths. There was a mottled old mirror farther along the passage, and he went to check out the damage to his face. A wild-eyed reflection stared back at him. There was a small cut above his eyebrow and a dried rivulet of blood leading from it. His chest was on fire, but when he plucked up the courage to look down at the damage, his shirt and skin were intact. He could feel every inch of the slashes but there was nothing there. What frightened him most, though, was the sudden flash of blue that lit up his eyes in the reflection.




Image by Cindy (Flickr) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (, via Wikimedia Commons

Win a copy of Bailey Bradford’s Chaps and Hopes!

Bailey is over on the Visiting Author page, with a delicious excerpt from the lastest book in the Mossy Glen series – Saddles and Memories. Leave a comment to be in with a chance of winning… if this line doesn’t tempt you, I don’t know what will!

“You smell like sunshine and hard work, horse and leather,” Andy whispered in his ear. “God, you have no idea how bad I want to fuck you.”

USA Today

If you want to find out what my favourite sports to watch are, and why… take a look at USA Today 🙂

Here’s a little clue…

Bundesarchiv Bild 183-J1025-0013-001, Ljubljana, XVII. Turn-WM, Klaus Köste

Bundesarchiv, Bild 183-J1025-0013-001 / Schaar, Helmut / CC-BY-SA [CC-BY-SA-3.0-de (, via Wikimedia Commons

And the winner is…

Congratulations to Nicki B who is the winner of my prize for the Slippery When Wet blog hop draw. A huge thank you to everyone who visited and took the time to comment – I hope you’ll be back 🙂 I’ve sent all your names off to Hennessee, who organised the Hop – so fingers crossed that one of you wins the grand prize!

Here’s the link if you want to check out the draw. Nicki – I’ll be in touch so you can choose your ebook.

Slippery When Wet Blog Hop


Is there anything sexier than a gorgeous guy, dripping wet, clothes clinging in all the right places… okay, clothing not entirely necessary… *fans self as imagination goes in to overdrive*? Hope the image is doing good things for you too! The Slippery When Wet Blog Hop has arrived and there are some great prizes on offer from over thirty authors taking part. One lucky commenter (from anywhere in the world) will be able to choose an ebook from my published list at the end of the hop. All commenters here will also be sent on to be entered for the grand hop prize, which is a fabulous $50 gift card! Good luck and enjoy this nicely damp excerpt from Living on the Edge 🙂


He made his voice deliberately gentle. “So, Aiden, would you prefer to have your punishment now or in the morning?”

Aiden looked startled and a little scared. Heath kept his silence until Aiden realised that he had to speak because there was no other option.

“Tonight…Sir.” He hesitated, as if uncertain whether that was enough, then added a whispered, “Please.”

Heath just nodded, took a step forward and grasped his slim wrist firmly. He applied just enough pressure to make a point but not enough to hurt, then tugged Aiden after him. His skin was so soft and smooth, warm to the touch. He resisted the urge to stroke Aiden’s inner wrist with his thumb. He wondered if it was one of Aiden’s erogenous zones, if he would respond to it being wrapped in a supple leather cuff.

Fuck. Mentally he reprimanded himself for visualising things that had an inevitable effect on his cock.

Aiden trailed after him, unresisting and unquestioning, until they reached the men’s locker room. The large shower area was a pristine, white-tiled square with showerheads on three walls. Heath dropped Aiden’s wrist and pretended not to notice when he caressed the red marks left by his grip. He circled the room, turning each shower fully on as he went.

“Now you’re going to clean it, inch by inch.” He pulled a small scrubbing brush and a bottle of cleaning fluid from a cupboard and threw them into the centre of the shower area. “Without getting your clothes wet.” Then he took a seat on a changing bench, crossed his ankles and waited to see how long it would take Aiden to realise that this punishment wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

Slowly, a pretty flush spread its way across sharp cheekbones. “You son of a bitch. You can’t do this.” His voice was scratchy, as if his throat were dry.

Heath quirked one eyebrow. “Can’t I?” He watched, delighted, as Aiden visibly trembled.

Aiden glared back at him and just for a moment Heath thought he might refuse, but then he pulled his shirt off over his head, muffling a “Fuck you.” Boots and socks were next, then trousers—pushed down and kicked away. Heath had to clamp his mouth shut to stop himself from drooling at the sight of all that smooth, pale skin over toned muscle. Despite his dark colouring, Aiden had very little body hair. Nothing on his chest and just the faintest tracing leading beneath his black shorts. He hesitated for just a moment before turning his back and yanking off his underwear.

Heath nearly came there and then at the sight of Aiden’s perfect, smooth, tight arse. What he wouldn’t give to bend Aiden over his knee right that minute and give him the spanking he deserved. How pretty those cheeks would look with his mark on them.

Aiden grabbed the cleaning tools, took a step into the showers and dropped gracefully to his knees. For the next hour Heath was in a heaven of his own making as Aiden scrubbed each tile, even though they were all perfectly clean already. Water glistened on his skin. His hair darkened and hung in dripping tendrils around his face. Every movement tensed muscles in his thighs and buttocks. Tantalising glimpses of plump, smooth balls were an occasional treat, but Aiden kept his legs stubbornly closed and his back to his audience. It wasn’t until he had scrubbed every tile and stood with a groan that Heath knew he would see what he really wanted to.

“I assume I’m done, or do you want me to repeat that utterly pointless process?” Aiden snapped.

Heath just smiled calmly. “You’re done.”

Aiden turned with more than a hint of defiance, stalked from the shower room and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist. It took long enough for his erection to be clearly visible to Heath’s satisfied gaze. That was all he needed to know. There was no doubt that Aiden was thoroughly, and beautifully, turned on by domination.