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  1. #1

    Cloud 9 Read it, write it, love it, GLBTQ fiction (with a European Twist)

    Some of the nicest writers of GLBTQ fiction you could care to meet (and I know that, because I've met them!) will be dropping in 12th to 14th May. There'll be laughs, there'll be excerpts, there'll be prizes. Do pop back and join us!
  2. Clare London's Avatar
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    Good morning everyone, Clare London here, part of the team that's looking forward to making the UK Meet in Sept a great success this year! And the fun starts here this weekend, where we've invited GLBTQ authors to come and share their fiction with us all

    I'm off to have my coffee and Frosties (other cereals are available *g*) and I'll be posting excerpt and contest links later.

    WATCH OUT for the chance to win a copy of last year's UK Meet souvenir anthology TEA AND CRUMPET - signed by the authors!
  3. #3


    Afternoon all.

    Just sent my edits for my anthology story back to my editor. There was at least one facepalm moment in there. Probably two.

    Can't wait for the meet. Between that and the Romantic Novelists Association I seem to be going to lots of writers events this year. I'm off to the RNA summer party on Thursday and the conference at Penrith in July. Still considering about the Festival of Romance too.
  4. Clare London's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Becky Black View Post
    I'm off to the RNA summer party on Thursday and the conference at Penrith in July. Still considering about the Festival of Romance too.
    Hi there Becky, great to see you! That sounds like a busy schedule, and lots of fun too I've always tried to go to as many events as I can afford, not necessarily for "selling" purposes, but because of the joy and support in meeting fellow authors and swapping tips and moans and successes! What do you think is the best thing you get out of them?
  5. #5


    Can I answer that as well? I think the best thing is being with people you don't have to explain to. They understand the issues, the ups and the downs. And, for UK Meet and similar, we don't have to explain why we write what we write...
  6. #6


    Oh it's definitely getting to meet fellow authors. I connect with lots of them on the internet of course, and that's great. But sometimes it's nice to talk out loud about this writing malarkey too. I've been to a couple of my local RNA chapter meetings too, so get to meet the writers there. And readers too of course, who don't think the stuff you write is crazy, they like it!
  7. #7

    Yeah Excerpt from Servitude

    Right, now I'm up and running for real... here is a pre-publication excerpt from my debut novel Servitude - a m/m sci-fantasy (due on 4th June from Dreamspinner)

    Chapter One

    As High Lord, Tancorix Reagalos had many duties he hated. Attending the annual meeting of the leaders of the Five Cities of Rystal Lake ranked high on the list, it being only marginally less objectionable than dealing with his fellow leaders individually. The carriage ride back from this year’s event had given him time to reflect on yet another excruciating conference, which, considering the disastrous leeway he had been forced to consent to on behalf of his city of Katraman, was not a pleasant experience.

    Tancorix could usually rely on the rolling scenery to distract him on such journeys. But as his carriage raced alongside its banks, the shimmering waters of the lake only annoyed him further as he remembered the debate he’d lost on fishing quotas. And even the view of the Splander Mountains far to the north couldn’t ease his mind, no matter how vivid the lightning that lit up the distant sky. The plains could not give way to the urban sprawl of his city soon enough. At least that way he wouldn’t have to dwell on the grain agreement he had been forced into signing.

    Stepping down from the carriage as it arrived back at Reagalos Manor, Tancorix noticed his wife heading toward him at such a pace that her long hair and robes streamed behind her.

    “Librava wishes to speak to you. He says it’s of great importance,” Isabelle said. “He’s waiting in your office.”

    It wasn’t the greeting he’d wanted, given his current mood. The archivist was not known to travel, so his presence at the manor did not bode well. Without stopping to change out of his traveling clothes, Tancorix headed straight for his office. There waiting for him was the shabby figure of Prasutagus Librava, Archivist to the Five Cities of Rystal Lake, carrying a number of scrolls under one arm. There was a sheen of sweat across his brow, and he was pulling nervously at his high collar.

    “This had better be good, Librava. I am a busy man with a very short temper today,” said Tancorix as he entered his office.

    “Believe me, my lord, what I have to tell you could have potentially damaging repercussions for your family.”

    One by one Librava placed four scrolls on the desk in front of Tancorix. “These materialized in my office yesterday. On cursory inspection, it seems that the paper has been magically treated to appear at a time when the conditions of the contract written had been met.”

    Tancorix picked up one of the scrolls and unwound it. “This has to be some kind of a hoax.”

    “If I may explain, sire. One of your ancestors, a Romanus Reagalos—” Librava paused as Tancorix groaned at the name. “—signed a number of these contracts. All of them with the same conditions attached.”

    “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

    “Indeed, sire.” Librava picked up one of the remaining scrolls, checked the details written on it, and handed it to Tancorix. “This one is the worst of the four.”

    A few very tense seconds later and the quiet of the office was broken by Tancorix’s roar of anger. Seething, he ordered Librava to arrange a meeting with the Hadrals, the rulers of Xenetra, immediately.

    Politics aside, Tancorix doubted he would ever like Lady Urla Hadral. Her unfriendly smile spoke volumes; she was clearly delighted at the new turn of events. Librava had been right in his assumption that the Hadrals would have also received a copy of the contract, and the glint of malice in Urla’s eyes warned Tancorix that little could be achieved by means of negotiation.

    “It was, of course, quite a shock to find out how shoddily a member of our family was treated by the Reagalos,” said Urla. “And just as shocking to see how long reparation has taken.”

    Tancorix watched the contempt spread across his wife’s face. “I am sure you are shaken to the core,” said Isabelle.

    “Terribly so,” replied Urla. “But I believe that compliance with the terms of the contract will go some way to restore my usual balanced demeanor.”

    Librava’s face morphed into a picture of concern, and Tancorix thought he was mentally cataloguing the valuable documents and books in his office that could get damaged if things were allowed to get out of hand.

    “I’m sure both parties were equally overwhelmed by the nature of what has come to light,” said Librava diplomatically. “But we must find a way of moving forward that is agreeable to all involved.”

    “I have read the contract,” said Bartemus Hadral, “and as far as I am concerned, I expect the High Lord to honor the conditions.”

    Tancorix snorted. “You will live to be disappointed.”

    “In the short time I’ve had the contract, I’ve managed to conduct some research,” continued Bartemus, ignoring Tancorix’s grunts of discontent. “It is not only the scroll that is magical, but Liam Hadral also arranged for the contract itself to be governed magically. You will find that the element of choice has been removed, so Lornyc, the unfortunate boy that he is, will have no option but to serve my son, Methian, who is the youngest Hadral.”

    Only his wife’s hand on his arm had kept Tancorix in his chair. “Don’t be preposterous!”

    Bartemus pressed on. “From what I’ve read so far, the traditional servant markings will appear within forty-eight hours of the contract materializing.”


    “It’s all in the bylaws, Tancorix,” said Bartemus, his tone containing none of the smugness of his wife’s. “I’m sure Librava can provide you with a copy.”

    “But you surely can’t approve of this,” said Isabelle, looking directly at Urla. “You were just as vocal in the condemnation of Lornyc and Methian’s involvement when they were at College. You can’t possibly want Lornyc to be given to your son as a servant—past mistakes can easily be repeated.”

    Urla stared back impassively. “But this time Lornyc will be Methian’s manservant, not his equal. And believe me, my son cares far too much for his reputation to risk an improper relationship with a member of staff.”

    “Your son’s reputation,” said Isabelle, “is the reason I didn’t want Lornyc anywhere near him.”

    The atmosphere in the office chilled as the two women glared at each other. Librava rustled the papers on his desk. “I am afraid, Lord Reagalos, that in regards to the bylaws, Lord Hadral is indeed correct.”

    “This is ridiculous,” said Tancorix, his pale cheeks flushed red in anger. “Give me a copy of those bylaws—now!”

    Librava thrust the papers at Tancorix, his hands shaking slightly. “I have highlighted the pertinent paragraphs.”

    Fuming, Tancorix waded through the legal jargon. The more he read, the worse the situation became. “I suppose there’s little more I can do but concede defeat. But be warned, Hadral. Should anything happen to Lornyc while he is in service to Methian, neither you nor your son will live long enough to regret it.”
    Rebecca Cohen
    Writer of m/m romance.
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  8. Clare London's Avatar
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    Default EXCERPT: Switch by Clare London (M/M, Adult)

    I'm struggling with the forum format too, as I think Alex said earlier LOL.

    So I'll just plough right in and treat you all to a never-before-seen excerpt of my new short story out at Dreamspinner later this month. Called SWITCH, it's the 3rd in a series of follow-up stories featuring Zeke and Miles from TRUE COLORS. And I make no excuse for the shorts being both steamy and romantic!

    SWITCH is out on May 23, but you can find the others - AMBUSH and PAYBACK - for sale HERE, along with the original novel, which is on sale at a special discount this month.

    BLURB: Miles Winter and Zeke Roswell have excited and enthralled each other since the day they met. Zeke’s uninhibited lovemaking has allowed Miles to grow in confidence, and their relationship to deepen. Back from a business trip, Miles knows he should take care of his backlog of work, but the delight of being back with Zeke makes him realise he has more important needs–including the one sexual step he hasn’t yet taken. Business can wait in favor of a commitment far more primal and more permanent.

    Miles had arrived late for Bondage, after a succession of airport delays, and the show was already in full swing.

    The room was full of laughter and loud commentary and more than a few glasses of champagne being raised in salute to Zeke Roswell. Miles had pushed through the door behind a group of Japanese collectors and barely found a space to settle his case and coat. Malia had spotted him first, rushing over to make him more comfortable. But it had only been another few seconds before Zeke’s gaze found his, over the heads of the visitors milling around him. It was eerie, the way Zeke always knew he was there within moments of arriving.

    Eerie, and very exciting.

    Miles had recognized the look of welcome in Zeke’s eyes—shortly followed by weariness and the onset of frustration in the face of so many people’s clamor for attention. He’d taken Malia to one side, and they’d managed to extract Zeke from the crowd shortly afterward. Zeke had already spoken to everyone who wanted to meet him; given soundbites galore for the press. Miles reminded him that the gallery had staff to cover the remaining hours of the event, and hustled him out to the limo and off to dinner at an undisclosed location.

    Now they were at last in Miles’s bed, Zeke’s body stretched out underneath him, his comfort and passion in easy and willing reach. Tonight, the gentle touches made Miles shudder with excitement and impatience, even though he was usually the one who took a little longer to relax and surrender. Whereas Zeke knew exactly what he wanted and pursued it with hunger and mischief as swiftly as he could.


    But tonight… tonight was different. Miles rolled over again and spooned back up against Zeke. This time he didn’t flinch when Zeke ran his hand over his ass; this time he pushed back into the caress, inviting more.

    “Talk to me,” Zeke murmured. He continued to stroke Miles, his strong hand running the length of Miles’s back, over his buttocks, down his thighs as far as Zeke could reach, then back up again. “Tell me what you saw at the show.”

    Miles pursed his lips. “Not sure I can do you justice. My color blindness, remember? I don’t always get the full benefit ….”

    Zeke gave a dismissive grunt and slid one of his hands around to Miles’s belly, playing with the trail of dark hair down to his groin. Miles’s cock thickened and stretched, the need starting an ache in his gut. “Not just the colors. Tell me what you saw.”

    Miles frowned. He wished he could see the expression in Zeke’s eyes, try to guess what Zeke wanted. But Zeke had always told him to speak his mind. To speak his feelings. “Well, there was the usual dramatic combination of art and sculpture, all sizes, all mediums.” He smiled at the memory. There’d been a ladder effect of exhibits—paintings and other creations, stepping up beside each other, behind each other, making the visitor crane his head to be able to see it all. There were pictures of seducers and the seduced; those in bondage and those dominating; those who flushed with pleasure and the pure contentment of finding their sexual place in life and those who fought against it, anguished both physically and emotionally. The sexual bondage scenes had been playful, exciting and stimulating. But there’d been other, different views of bondage— photos of couples arm in arm but with body language that cried for separation, of workers miserable at their desk, of people of all ages who looked nothing but painfully uncomfortable in their clothes and home setting. The leaflets and placards Zeke had showed him in the office some weeks ago were there, evidence of protests against discrimination and repression. And in amongst the pictures were structures and tokens illustrating the locations where these things happened. In back streets, in public forums, in the comfort of a man’s living room. Everything in together, a riot of activity, a challenge to anyone’s critique. A jumble, like the box of exciting goods Zeke had spilled on Miles’s office carpet. Seemingly a mess, yet brought together by Zeke’s talent into an experience like no other. It was what people had come to expect of a Zeke Roswell show.

    Miles’s smile caught on a gasp as Zeke bit mischievously at the skin stretched tight over Miles's hip.

    “Turn over,” Zeke muttered. “On to your belly. Keep talking.”

    Miles rolled slowly over, resting his head on his hands. His heart beat more rapidly again. Zeke had a way of demanding things of him that reached into Miles’s equally assertive soul and invited total surrender. He wished they’d spent more time on familiar foreplay tonight, kissing and nipping gently at skin until one or the other of them laughed or begged to move on. He wanted to taste Zeke’s cock on his tongue, wanted to suck and lick it, a better taste by far than the champagne at the show. He wanted time to—

    No, he didn’t. There’d be time for all that, another night.

    “What did you feel?” Zeke murmured in his ear, breaking into his thoughts. “Tell me.”

    “I felt excitement, suspense, anticipation.” Miles’s mind drifted back to all he’d seen. “There were curtains over the corners of the room, half-hiding the displays underneath. There were corners I turned and came face to face with shocking images. Sometimes it inspired anger or distress, sometimes titillation. There were explicit scenes of erotica, of both pain and ecstasy. Scenes of platonic but deeply felt love. It was… tantalizing.”

    Zeke nodded. Miles felt the brush of Zeke’s hair on his shoulders as Zeke shifted down the bed. His tongue lapped gently at the small of Miles’s back, making him gasp again. Zeke stretched his leg over the back of Miles’s calf, momentarily holding Miles down on the bed. Miles felt the cheeks of his ass tighten with something between thrill and trepidation.

    “I said, keep talking.”
  9. #9


    Hiya Jamie and Becky; great to see you here. Looking forward to seeing you in September (and at the Festival of Romance, if you get there, Becky).

    Can I share a secret that one of Becky's facepalm edit moments was not spelling her name correctly?
  10. #10


    Quote Originally Posted by charliecochrane View Post
    Can I share a secret that one of Becky's facepalm edit moments was not spelling her name correctly?
    Hey! It was technically spelled correctly! It was just, er, slightly deficient in the capital letters department.
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