Tuesday, 22 August 2017

SINFUL PLEASURES Guest Post Sonni d Soto


Sinful Pleasures, the hot new anthology from Sinful Press is released this week. Today I'm delighted to host a guest post from one of the contributors Sonni de Soto






In Defense of Dirty Talk

Sonni de Soto



When you’re inexperienced, sex often feels just as intimidating as it does fascinating. It’s this mysterious miracle that you’re sure everyone but you is doing and that, if only you could be doing it too, your life—you—would be completely changed. In movies and stories, we talk about first times in terms of romantic perfection, with beautiful bodies moving in flawless harmony, or messy mistakes that can ruin lives. Too often, we treat it as if it should be the most natural thing in the world, that we should just arrive on the dating scene knowing every position and trick by instinct. And that, if we don’t, we’re somehow deficient and doomed in the bedroom forever. Which too often leaves us feeling incredibly inept and too embarrassed to ask questions or talk about it.



But the dirty, little secret we rarely tell each other is: none of us are experts.



Even if we know the basics—how your parts match up with your partner’s—it’s impossible to know exactly the best way to do that the first time. So, whether we like it or not, we have to do the unthinkable: we have to talk about it. None of us are mind readers. Even with all the experience and knowledge in the world, you will never know more about another person’s pleasure than they do. Because they’re the ones in their bodies. And, even if one tact worked well with previous partners, there’s no guarantee it will with another. And the only way to know is to communicate and explore with each other. After all, you can’t exactly discover the answers until you’ve asked the questions.



In my new story, “On the Line,” in Sinful Press’s new anthology Sinful Pleasures, I explore how that kind of discovery can not only be helpful but sexy as hell too. By talking out your fantasies with your partners, you can learn how they—and how you—like to have sex. What your turn-ons and preferences are. Where your comfort levels and boundaries lie. And, of course, what sexy, new things you’d like to try when the time comes.



It’s also a great way to explore and enjoy each other’s sexuality, even when you may not be ready or able to do so physically. It helps foster intimacy and boost confidence, not to mention build anticipation.



Because sex, whether the first time or the four-thousandth, should fill you and your partner with pleasure, not insecurity. And, if fantasy-sharing can get you there, well, a little dirty talk never hurt anyone.

For more from Sonni de Soto, check out her stories in the upcoming Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30 Vol. 2, coming out later in July, Sexy Little Pages’ Goodbye Moderation: Gluttony, and Cleis Press’s Unspeakably Erotic: Lesbian Kink, available for pre-sale now.




Excerpt from “On The Line”

Sinful Pleasures



Imagine us,” her voice whispered in his ear. “Imagine us in your room. On your bed.”



Chris let out a sigh and tried. His mind focused, picturing her painted and so-mobile mouth forming her words. He imagined the familiar flush that always swept over her cheeks right before he took her mouth, that visible sign of her excitement that never failed to fuel his own.



And then there, in his room, on his bed, in his mind, like magic, she was laid seductive and stretched-out before him. His hands itched to grab the curves of her body. The swell of her sweeping hips. The pointed tips of her delectable breasts. The length of her long legs. The soft spread of sun-ripened skin, that always held the sweet scent of citrus, over the generous lushness of her body.



He could hear his own breath rasp as his mind transported her from her dorm room to the foot of his bed.



Good,” he heard her coo in his ear. “Now that you have me there, whatever will you do with me?” Her mockingly naïve tone left him feeling provoked and promised.



I want you naked.”




Blurb:



Sinful Press welcomes you to lose yourself in Sinful Pleasures.  

Join us as we weave our way from mainstream erotic romance to surreal sex-filled dreamscapes and everything in between, created by some of the best new and established voices in the erotica genre. 

Janine Ashbless, Ella Scandal, Sonni de Soto, Jo Henny Wolf, Lily Harlem, Lady Divine, Gail Williams, Samantha MacLeod, Tony Fyler, Ellie Barker, Lisa McCarthy



Buy links:






Support your small publisher and buy the paperback direct



Author Bio:



Sonni de Soto is a kinkster of color who is also an English major and graduated from the University of Minnesota. She also won the third place 2008 International Aeon Award story winner (Published in Albedo One Issue 38). Sonni has two BDSM erotica novels published, The Taming School with Sizzler Editions and Show Me, Sir with Sinful Press. She also has BDSM erotica short stories in Riverdale Ave Books's First Annual Geeky Kink Anthology, The Sexy Librarian's anthology For the Men (and the Women who Love Them), and Sexy Little Pages' Sacred & Profane and soon Rule #34 anthologies, as well and several others.





Links:
















http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/sinful-pleasures/

Thursday, 17 August 2017

Release Blitz: Random on Tour: Las Vegas by Julia Kent (@jkentauthor)



Random on Tour: Las Vegas by Julia Kent
New Release! Random on Tour: Las Vegas by Julia Kent (@jkentauthor) #romantic #romance #contemporary #comedy








Release date: August 15, 2017

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance



Description:



Now, you know my mama’s a gambler (sweeper, whatever....), so I guess I got to blame her for a little of this.



When the band got invited to do a big gig here in Las Vegas, I was so excited. Really excited. And when we got here, I was dazzled.



A little too dazzled. I blame the lights and the money and does Vegas pump a scent through the entire town that makes you think you’re a winner, or what?



Because I gambled all our money away. And by “our,” I mean the band’s money. All of it. Every dang cent.



Only no one knows. They’d kill me. So I have to find a way to make all that money back.



I have an idea. I got a good body and a smart mind.



(Quit laughing).



I can do this. I can fix this.



Really.



It’s just gonna get a little weird for a while.



Random on Tour: Las Vegas is the 9th book in Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling Random series. When the band performs in Vegas, anything goes – including Darla’s dignity and all of the band’s savings. When a savior appears, though, there’s a trade-off for being rescued. A big one. How far is Darla willing to go?



Oh, please. It’s Darla. Like you have to even wonder...



This book is told from the point of view of Darla, Trevor and Joe.



Buy links:










Google Play: http://bit.ly/2wcl2AD





Excerpt:



“Did you hear about the woman who died by suffocating on a guy’s penis?” I asked, all out of the blue. That’s how my brain worked sometimes, and hell if I understood it. Given any set of crises, I could compartmentalize and let at least one loose strand of gray matter float off in the wind, brought back by a breeze with a strange little factoid tucked away in the outback, coming forward to be uttered out of my no-filter mouth.



Plus, I needed time for the brain’s back burner to figure out how to give them an answer that fully conveyed my apologies and regret for being so stupid. Given that, why not distract them with a huge-dick story?



Trevor and Joe groaned in unison. They knew how I worked.



“He was from Peters, Ohio, wasn’t he?” Joe asked.



“I’ll get beer. We’re going to need it if this is one of her stories,” Trevor said, standing up and shaking his head as he and Joe exchanged a look I didn’t understand.



“No, not from Peters,” I said. “Trust me, if a guy back home had a cock that big, I’d know about it. Or have been dead long before I met you.”



They both froze, then slowly turned to look at me.



Oops.



Author Bio:



New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down



Social Media Links:







Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services


Tuesday, 15 August 2017

Release Blitz: A Different Kind of Cosplay by Lucy Felthouse


A Different Kind of Cosplay by Lucy Felthouse Now Available in Audiobook Format! #audiobook #audible #romance #marvel #cosplay



Lucy Felthouse’s geeky, cosplay-packed erotic romance novella, A Different Kind of Cosplay, is now available in audiobook format. Narrated by voice artist Xanthia Bloom, you can now listen to this fun tale for Marvel and Avengers fans on the go!

Mean Girls Blurb:

Zachary has a dilemma. His girlfriend, Reese, has a special birthday coming up soon and he has absolutely no clue what to get for her. It doesn’t help that Zach does not share or really understand Reese’s biggest hobby—comic books, superheroes and everything that goes with them. Zach raids Reese’s DVD collection for inspiration, and what he finds there gives him an idea…possibly the best one he’s ever had.

Sure, Reese has fantasized about her favorite superheroes. All those muscles and rakish smiles are to die for. She didn’t think Zach would ever really understand, though. But he proves her wrong in the best way possible.

Audio links:



*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves and Hiding in Plain Sight. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 160 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter and get a free eBook: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter



Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

Friday, 11 August 2017

Coming Soon: Right Here, Right Now a M/M Anthology

Coming this autumn from Pride Publishing, a brand new anthology of contemporary MM romance, featuring my story The Coach.


The book also features new writing from Lily Harlem, Samantha Cayto, Brigham Vaughan, Alexia Milne and Jon Keyes

Release dates:
Preorder: 22nd August
Early Download: 5th September
General Release: 3rd October

Friday, 4 August 2017

BACK TO WORK


 I apologise for this overdue update but the last three weeks have been mega-hectic. It started well enough with a fabulous 7 night cruise around the Scottish coast but even since we got back it’s been crazy. We’re also in the middle of home renovations and I totally underestimated how disruptive that can be. I thought I’d be able to work through the chaos, dust, noise, mess, boxes, but no, it’s been impossible. Last weekend I tried escaping to some local coffee shops and pubs, but this being the summer holidays they were all packed with kids and families, and once again it was impossible to work. So this is the first time I’ve turned my laptop on in three weeks.
Anyway, the cruise was wonderful. We joined the ship MS Magellan in Liverpool before sailing north, visiting Greenock, Tobermorey, Orkney and Torshavn, before coming back down the east of Scotland via Shetland and Dundee to end up in Newcastle. It was a great week and we saw some beautiful places. The weather was also on our side for the first four days. It took a turn for the worse at the end of the week with high winds and rough seas, but thankfully nothing as bad as the storm in Anthem of the Sea.

Anthem of the Sea - the perfect cruise read.
A beautiful evening leaving Greenock
Tobermorey harbour.
Blue skies and blue sea - perfection.

 Not even the weather can put me off cruising. I love every part of the experience. The ship, the fresh sea air, meeting new people, great food, great drinks, the entertainment – it can’t be beaten. It’s so more relaxed and interesting than spending a few hours squashed in a plane followed by a couple of weeks by the beach or a pool.

But I’m back at work now and need to get moving on Anthem 3. The third book is half way through but I’d like to get the first draft done by the end of September. Fingers crossed.
Last weekend Diverse reader featured me on their Saturday Author Spotlight.  Check out the interview. There may still be time to enter the giveaway to win a signed copy of Anthem of the Sea and an ebook bundle of my other books.
http://diversereader.blogspot.co.uk/2017/07/author-saturday-spotlight-thom-collins.html

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

Out Now—On Her High Horse by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #romance #medical #cougar




Blurb:

Do first impressions always last?

When veterinarian Brett Coulson and stable owner Samantha Hanson-Bishop meet, it’s hate at first sight. He thinks she’s a snobby, stuck-up bitch who wouldn’t know nice if it bit her on the backside. She thinks he’s a blundering, inexperienced little boy who shouldn’t be within fifty miles of her prized horses. But it doesn’t matter much—they’ll never have to see each other again. Or will they?

When fate throws them into the same room together at a charity fundraiser, the resentment between them quickly resurfaces. But mixed in with that resentment is something they both tried to deny… attraction. Will the chemistry between them cancel out the animosity, or were their first impressions just too powerful to change?

Note: On Her High Horse was previously published in the Coming in Hot Boxed Set.

Buy links:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/OHHH

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2ucGHKX




Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2uUTWgW


*****

Excerpt:

There was a knock at the door. Brett looked up from where he was transferring hand-written notes onto the practice’s computer system—he hadn’t yet gotten comfortable with taking the iPad out on calls. He was paranoid he’d drop it in a cow pat, or worse. “Yes, come in!”

One of the veterinary surgery’s receptionists—an efficient blonde called Natasha—sidled in, a wry expression on her face. “Hi, Brett. I’m really sorry to bother you, but there’s a woman on the phone, and she’s being, um, rather rude.”

Frowning, Brett replied, “Who is it? And why is she being rude?”

Natasha blew out a breath and shrugged. “She won’t tell me what the issue is. Won’t even tell me what animal she has. She just keeps saying she’ll only speak to a ‘trained professional.’ I don’t know who it is, either. All I know is her first name is—”

“Samantha?” Brett supplied, his shoulders slumping and eyebrows raising.

“Uh, yeah. How did you know? Oh God, I haven’t gone and insulted one of your friends or something, have I? I didn’t mean to, honestly. It’s just she’s being a bit difficult…”

“Natasha, don’t panic. She’s no friend of mine. I’ve never even met the woman. Besides, if she was one of my friends, I’d be giving her a bollocking for being rude to one of my staff, wouldn’t I? Anyway, if it’s the Samantha I think it is, then she’s being very difficult, and you’re being overly polite. Andrew warned me about her.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Bloody typical that she’d phone while he’s away. The man barely ever takes a holiday, and now he finally has, his most awkward client is on the blower. He damn well owes me one after this.”

“If she’s a regular client, how come I’ve never spoken to her before?”

Shrugging, Brett replied, “Dunno. Maybe she’s got Andrew’s mobile number or something?”

Natasha gasped. “But he never gives out his mobile number to clients. He’s very strict about that—always asks us to take a message and if it’s urgent, pass it on to him directly.”

“Yeah…” Brett scratched his head. “He didn’t say much about her, beyond that she can be difficult. Honestly, I was a bit distracted when he mentioned it so I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention. I wish I’d asked more questions now, but I never thought I’d have the misfortune of having to deal with her.”

“You haven’t, yet.” Natasha raised her eyebrows and jerked her chin towards the phone on his desk.

“Good point.” He gave a wan smile. “Suppose I’d better find out what she wants, hadn’t I? If she’s special enough to have Andrew’s precious mobile phone number, then I ought to keep her sweet.”

“Probably wise.” Natasha left the room, closing the door behind her, but not before Brett spotted the slight smile on her face. Relieved to pass on the bitchy customer to him, no doubt.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone. “Hello, Brett Coulson speaking. How can I help?”

“Oh,” came the reply, “Brett. Ah, yes. You’re the other vet, aren’t you? Jolly good. Know what you’re talking about, do you?” The woman’s accent was posh, southern. Like she’d been to a finishing school or something.

Gritting his teeth, Brett then pasted a smile on his face, hoping it would be apparent in his tone, despite the daggers he was actually staring at her through the handset. “Yes, I most certainly do.” Should fucking do, after five years of training and the same again working in the profession. I’m not on bloody work experience here.

“But you sound so young.”

Glad she couldn’t see him, Brett rolled his eyes. Her problem obviously wasn’t an emergency, the way she was waffling on, time-wasting. “I’m almost twenty-nine, Mrs…”

“It’s Ms, actually. Samantha Hanson-Bishop here. So you’re still a baby then.”

“Is there something I can help you with, Ms Hanson-Bishop? Only I’ve a call to go out on in a few minutes.” He couldn’t help the emphasis he’d put on the Ms. It could be construed as sarcastic, but it was still a damn sight more polite than anything he really wanted to say. Would she just get to the point already?

“Yes, yes, of course. That’s why I’m telephoning. I just wanted to make sure I was speaking to someone who actually knew what they were talking about. Clearly your receptionist doesn’t know anything about animals, much less my thoroughbred horses.”

Ah, okay, that made things clearer. The stuck-up, posh bird ran a stable. Now the haughty attitude made sense—she was entitled, bored, and thought she was better than everyone else. Wanting to defend Natasha—who was, in fact, very knowledgeable about animals, it being part of her job and all—Brett had to bite his tongue. If the woman, however snobby and irritating, ran a stable of thoroughbreds, then she was no doubt bringing plenty of money into the practice. They were doing okay, but the loss of a big customer without a replacement wasn’t something they’d be able to sustain for very long. And word of mouth was very important in this game—he didn’t want her bad-mouthing him or the surgery.

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves and Hiding in Plain Sight. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 160 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter and get a free eBook: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter




Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Tuesday, 25 July 2017

Out Now—Get Off Easy by Sara Brookes (@sara_brookes) #sarabrookes #noblehouse #carinapress #bdsm #menage #newrelease




Blurb

At Noble House, fantasy has no limits. Log on and enter a world of your most secret desires. And remember, there is nothing more noble than the pursuit of passion…

I shouldn’t be watching, but I can’t look away.

It’s been years since I’ve seen Ford “Saint” Templar or Boyce Denali in person—although the gorgeous men have haunted too many of my fantasies to count. But now they’re here, right on my screen. Together. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

And I want in.

Noble House is the kingdom of geek kink, where the thrill comes from knowing that someone is always watching. All I have to do is be brave enough to turn off the screen, walk through the door and ask Saint and Boyce to take me back.

We used to be so good together, but we’re different people now. Will Saint’s commands still bring me to my knees with desire? Will the anticipation of Boyce’s touch still drive me wild? Will I be able to survive the pleasure of having them both?

It’s time to stop watching. I need this. I need them. And just maybe, they need me, too.

Buy links:








*****

Excerpt

Darkness surrounded Grae. In her life. In her mind. And even in her office as she leaned back in her overstuffed, overpriced chair and yawned. The creature comforts weren’t enough to keep her interested in the image flickering on her computer screen. Not that well-chiseled abs didn’t do it for her. They totally did. But considering the fact she’d been the one to draw, define, and enhance each one of those tongue-licking indentions, the final product had lost its appeal hours ago.

As long as the female audience members went wild, she would keep plodding along. Not to mention, if she didn’t deliver, she wouldn’t be paid her hard-earned check. As tempting as it was to continue, she desperately needed a break.

A quick glance at her trusty desktop clock showed she hadn’t stopped for over thirty-six hours. Since she was on a deadline, her director’s schedule won out over sleep and basic hygiene. Especially because she was under contract. If she wanted another shot at working with this director, she needed to have this guy’s abs painted on and swoon-worthy in the next three hours.

One hell of a reward awaited her after she completed her work, too.

As she made her way to the kitchen to refill her carafe, she tapped the reminder postcard that arrived two days ago against her chin. Fresh coffee would get her through. At least it had to. She’d worked under tighter deadlines, and on less sleep, than this project.

Thirty-six hours with no sleep was kid’s stuff.

Her reward, however, was not child appropriate.

No way. No how.

Kochran Duke was throwing one of his famous parties tonight. The events, where participation was allowed by members both at the club and online, were not low-key and always the highlight of the month. It also meant there was a distinct possibility Saint and Boyce would attend. They never missed a party at the converted armory. No telling what they’d be doing, though.

It was always a surprise when it came to those two.

She shoved a fresh filter into the brew basket, dumped in beans and water, and realized she didn’t care. They could sit and read nursery rhymes to one another, and she’d still get off. Wasn’t as though she’d joined Kochran’s exclusive website only to watch the pretty boys play with their toys.

Okay, well, it wasn’t the only reason.

There was a touch of practicality to why she chose to spend her night watching porn.

And it had nothing to do with satisfying her voyeuristic tendencies.

Her former Master recommended the online dungeon when it became obvious she had all the desire and drive to submit, but none of the time. Noble House offered several levels of membership depending on participation or observation. The fees were steep, but it was a small price to pay for satisfying a guilty indulgence from the privacy of her home office.

Once she’d discovered two of her closest friends from college were Dominants at Noble House, her interest in the private club increased tenfold. Thanks to alumni updates from the university, she’d known they’d continued to date after they graduated. Even knew where they lived because of an article published six months ago in the yearly alumni newsletter about the building they’d saved from the wrecking ball and turned into an apartment complex. Knowing they were still together, and trying to change the world, warmed her heart.

And a few other strategic lady bits.

Someday she would visit Noble House. Though the idea of taking a vacation long enough to visit Northern California sounded absurd. With the constant trail of work following her wherever she went, taking a break was unheard of. Visiting friends she hadn’t seen in more than a decade was even more ludicrous. As was confessing she’d seen every one of their broadcasted scenes since she’d become a member.

And hunted through the archives.

Several times over.

The coffeepot chimed. She dumped the contents into the carafe, then grabbed the French vanilla creamer. As she made her way back to her spacious office, her eyes slowly adjusted to the permanent darkness she’d created thanks to heavy light-blocking blinds. Day or night, the lighting in the room never changed. When she’d decided to leave the guaranteed contract with the big-budget movie studio behind and become a freelancer, she’d invested in all the bells and whistles. No sense working from home without the proper equipment.

Six monitors wasn’t too much, right?

A quick check of the emails she’d been ignoring for the past few hours indicated the director was getting aggravated. Time to buckle down and turn out this masterpiece. Armed with a fresh cup of coffee, Grae leaned back to watch the fight sequence she’d been working on for the past week. She noted a few minor inconsistencies she could smooth over while she waited to see if she had approval. No need to waste her time if the director wanted to ditch the segment.

Task completed, she zipped the file, then dropped it onto her secure server. An email containing the link to the director was next and meant her part was complete. She flipped a switch to change over to her personal computer tower and waited for it to boot. When it finally beeped in greeting, she directed the browser window to Noble House’s main site. A few keystrokes, and the splash page for tonight’s event flashed onto the huge screen she’d mounted on the wall.

Two very familiar faces stared back at her.

Boyce Denali, the one on the left, wore heavy-duty leathers. Too bulky for working inside the club. These were the kind used for protection should he take a spill. Though she doubted he would ever be so careless. Boyce was the kind of man the pavement moved for. Dark blond, piercing blues, muscles to die for, and a chiseled bone structure even the most formidable Viking would find intimidating.

Ford Templar, on the other hand, was all dark and mysterious. Nicknamed Saint at the club, Ford was broody. Sulky. Dark hair. Olive skin. Lean muscles. The dark to Boyce’s light. Except his eyes. Those eyes. Eerily colored, they reminded her of glass Coke bottles. Rumor had it his gaze could pierce right through to someone’s soul. While Boyce held a commanding air that demanded to be heard, Saint wore his power subtly but was still all dominant authority.

Seemingly connected at the hip, the two men scened together every week. Much to her delight. Grae didn’t think she’d ever seen them work with a submissive alone. Not that the choice to only carry out ménage scenes affected their standing at the club. Not in the least. Every time they worked together, their scenes had been nothing short of spectacular.

“Let’s see what you’re up to tonight, boys.”

*****

Author bio:

Sara Brookes has always been fascinated by the strange, the unusual, the twisted and the lost (tortured heroes are her personal favorite). She is an action movie junkie, addicted to coffee and has been known to stay up until the wee hours of the morning playing RPG video games. Despite all this geekiness, she is a romantic at heart and is always a sucker for an excellent love story.

Links:




New release announcement list: http://eepurl.com/mbG31



Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.



Friday, 21 July 2017

Anthem of the Sea Deleted Scene #4




By the time you read this scheduled post I should be enjoying my own Anthem of the Sea on a cruise around the Scottish Aisles. I’ll share some pictures of the voyage when I get back, or check out my twitter page @ThomWolf to see where I’ve been so far. In the meantime, here’s another deleted scene from Anthem of the Sea.

Today’s scene involves Oliver Gill. It’s another flashback filling in the backstory of the boyband Overload. Oliver’s a deeply disturbed young man when we meet him in Anthem, but this flashback demonstrates how highly strung he has always been. Like the early scenes it was cut for pacing. I managed to incorporate the back story in a more efficient manner in the final book, but I do love this scene.

See you soon

Thom xxx



Deleted scene #4



“Fucking hell. What’s the point of any of this? These numpties can’t sing for shit.”

Eighteen years old, Oliver Gill already had the temperament and attitude that he would become notorious for. Difficult: one of the softer words used to describe him. He’d been a diva in the making since primary school. By his teens he’d developed a sense of entitlement to go with his self-belief.

Newly formed boy band Overload were putting the final touches to what was slated to be their debut album. Oliver hated everything about being in a band but most of all he loathed having to share. He sang lead vocal on all of their tracks and made sure he stood front and centre during their performances and photographs, but that wasn’t enough. He still had to share the spotlight with four other boys – or baggage, as he called them.

He was destined to be a solo star, not one of five boys in a crappy line up. The fact the other four were all better looking than him was something he was loath to admit. They hadn’t been hired for their singing skills. That was fairly obvious. Anyone with ears would know who the real star of Overload was.

“It’s a means to an end,” his sister, Rachel, assured him. “Use the band to get famous, then dump them.”

She was right of course. Robbie Williams, Geri Halliwell; they both started out as members of a band, walking out at the height of their fame. That’s exactly what he planned to do.

Ditch these losers at the first opportunity.

Overload were in the studio to hear the playback of their album. The whole thing was mixed and ready. They were due to shoot their debut video in a couple of weeks.

Oliver sat apart from the rest of the band. He resolved to start how he meant go on with them; keep his distance and let them see who the star of this show was. They sat on a sofa together – Ben, Christian, Luke and David – grinning like lunatics, giving each other juvenile high fives. Fucking idiots.

Oliver sat in an arm chair, off to one side, wondering how quickly he could get out of this. This album should be enough. Four hit songs. Everyone would see he was the voice of Overload. Record companies would line up to offer him a solo contract. It would all be so easy. Seeing these dick heads crash and burn without him, that would be the icing on the cake.

Anderson Pole, the twenty six stone record producer, waddled in, out of breath, with the album on disc. “This is it boys. Enjoy it.”

The first track started to play. Oliver flinched when his lead vocal came in. Anderson had added some kind of electronic effect to his voice. What the hell? He could understand them having to use technological tricks to sweeten the vocals of the other four, but he didn’t need it. Maybe it was just an effect on this one track.

Three songs in and the treatment on his voice got heavier. He got to his feet and hit stop on the player.

“Is this a fucking joke? What have you done to my voice? I sound like a God damned robot.”

Anderson Pole turned his piggy eyes towards him. His chubby cheeks were scarlet. “It’s a modern sound,” he said, sounding calmer than he looked. “Most records on the charts are like that. Even Madonna uses a vocoder these days.”

“I’m not Madonna. I’m Oliver Gill.”

“No. You’re Oliver from Overload,” one of the boys chipped in. The others sniggered.

“Whatever you’ve done, I want you to change it back,” he said.

“You’re not the producer,” Anderson told him. “I am. The effect stays.

“I don’t need it. I’m not like the other four. I can fucking sing.”

“You think you can sing,” piped up Ben, “but your tuning is awful.”

“Ha. What would you know about tune? They might as well take the four of you cunts off the record for all you contribute. I’m the singer in this band and you all fucking know it.”

“Calm down, Oliver,” Anderson warned.

“Oh, give it rest you fat bastard. Get back on the mixing desk and put this shit right.”

The other boys were on their feet, all siding with the producer.

“You need to pipe down and apologise,” Christian said.

“Apologise! That’s a joke, right? To whom? For what? For being the only voice in this piss poor excuse for a band? For having that voice ruined in production by this idiot? You didn’t need to make me sound as bad as them, Anderson. You needed to make these cunts sound better.”

Ben moved forward, fists raised, and was stopped from hitting Oliver by the rest of the group. Undeterred, Oliver proceeded to spew abuse at the others until security was called from the foyer and he was dragged off to an empty office.

Sam LeFerve, the bands manager, arrived half an hour later. Oliver knew from the look on his face that Sam was livid. Everything above the neck of his shirt was crimson. Good. Oliver was angry too. It would be useful to have someone see things from his side for a change.

“I was in a meeting with tour promoters,” Sam said. The calm of his voice was at odds with the anger in his eyes. These fat guys should really keep a lid on their temper. Sam and Anderson looked like they would have heart attacks. “I had to cut my meeting short to come and sort this shit out. What the fuck is going on?”

“Have you listened to the final mix of the album?” Oliver demanded.

“Of course I have. I approve everything.”

“How could you approve that? It’s utter shit. Have you heard what they’ve done to my voice? It doesn’t even sound like me.”

“You’re not Pavarotti, kid. You’re in a boy band and I want you to sound like every other fucker in the chart. Don’t you get that?” Sam took out a cigarette and lit up.

“I don’t think we should be a boy band,” he replied indignantly. “I sang all the main vocals, the others did nothing. Put them on backing, let me be a solo artist. They can be my dancers.”

Sam’s eyes widened and the cigarette hung limply in his mouth. Suddenly Oliver didn’t feel so sure of himself. This wasn’t going how he expected it. Sam didn’t fight his corner like he ought to.

Sam laughed. It was a flat, humourless sound. “Jesus Christ, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

He stood up straight. “Of course I am.”

“It’s a boy band. I don’t want a solo act. I want five cute boys that girls and gays will want to fuck. I don’t give a shit about the singing. I’m paying Anderson to sort that out.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“He’s produced a dozen top twenty singles. I’d say he knows a lot better than you do what works and what doesn’t. He’s told me all about you too. You’ve been a pain in the arse since day one.”

“That’ll be right,” Oliver sneered. “Two face, fat bastard.”

Sam drew slowly on his cigarette, watching Oliver through narrowed eyes. “It’s vital that Overload look right. But there’s something more important than looks in this band.”

“What?”

“Attitude, kid. And yours stinks. I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of money invested in this project and you’re a liability I can do without. It’s over. You’re fired.”

What!” He heard the words but couldn’t believe them. “You can’t sack me. I’m the lead singer. It’s the others you need to sack.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve got no problem with the other boys. They look good and they do what they’re told to. You’re a pain in the arse I just don’t need.”

Oliver trembled. Sam was serious. Shit! Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? “Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I’ll keep quiet from now on. Do what you say.”

“This isn’t going to work,” Sam said. “I made a mistake in choosing you. I need to cut my losses before it’s too late.”

“But ... but the album. It’s already finished,” Oliver said.

“It’s nothing I can’t fix. We can take you off and record new vocals with another singer. I’m freeing you from your contract.”

Noooo.” The world had turned to shit beneath his feet. He’d been so stupid, pushed everything too far, but it wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be. Surely there was a way of turning this mess around. “Sam, I said I was sorry. I’ll behave. No more tantrums. I’ll be nice to the rest of the guys. But don’t do this, please. Don’t fire me.”

Sam’s expression was fixed. “Too little, too late. I’ve had a bad feeling about you for weeks. Since I put you all together. The constant feedback I get is that you’re a pain in the arse. Anderson, choreographers, stylists, the rest of the band – you make it difficult for everyone. Nobody wants to work with you. Me included.”

Tears pricked at Oliver’s eye lashes. Don’t cry, he warned himself. Do not cry. “Can’t we work something out? Just you and me. I know you like me. I know why you hired me. Let me make it worth your while. A blow job, right now.”

Sam took a step back. He looked horrified. “Oliver, stop.”

“You can fuck me, if you want. I’ve never done it in the arse before.” A lie. “You can be my first. I’d like that. You would too, wouldn’t you? To pop my cherry.”

“Oliver, don’t insult me or demean yourself.” Sam was angry now, heading for the door before the situation got worse.

“Don’t go,” Oliver pleaded.

“I’m sorry but it’s over. There’s no place for you in this band.”




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