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Irish Charm by C F White #kindleunlimited #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Irish Charm (Flying into Love #3)

Author and Publisher: C F White

Cover Artist: Kelly Martin (KAM Design)

Release Date: November 28, 2022

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes:  Hurt/Comfort, Opposites Attract

Themes: Second Chance, Forced Proximity

Heat Rating:  4 flames    

Length: 64 250 words/260 pages

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

Can a bit of Irish charm rescue an injured soldier from his wrenching heartache?

 

Blurb

Injured ex-soldier, Kane Taylor, has lost everything—the job he loves, the use of his trigger hand, and the love of his life. Moving to remote Donegal in Ireland to fix those lost links with his deceased partner’s ancestors is the only thing keeping his memories alive.

Publican Declan McCafferty has everything—a job he loves, a community he adores and a revolving door of lovers. But when he sets eyes on the new sexy, brooding regular customer at his pub staring solemnly into his Guinness night after night, Declan realises he needs one more thing—him.

Kane isn’t ready to give himself to another man, but the charismatic and charming publican is hard to resist. Can a fling be such a bad thing?
It is when Declan discovers Kane is the only man in his life he’s not willing to let go.

Irish Charm (Flying into Love #3) is a contemporary hurt/comfort, opposites attract, second chance MM romance featuring an ex-military alpha male recovering from heartache and a cheeky Irish publican allergic to commitment.

 

Excerpt 

“What you grinning for?” Ciara was at his office door, nose scrunched. 

Declan composed the returning message, then clicked off the phone and dropped it on his desk. 

“You’ll get an extra hundred in your pay this month. Euan coughed up.”

“You got that tight arse to pay? How did you do that?”

“My obvious charm.” 

“Did you deny him his drink?” 

“Aye.”

Ciara snorted.

“You’re still okay to stay until closing tonight? Paddy’ll be with you, so you won’t be alone to lock up.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“Out.” 

Ciara’s dubious grin had Declan’s brow furrowing. “You might reconsider that.” 

Declan stood, smoothing down his shirt. “Doubt that.” He did. He needed to get laid. However it came. “Does this shirt make me look—”

“Old?”

“Publican?” 

“Aye.” 

“Oh.” 

“Cause y’are.” 

“I know, but sometimes I like to hide that fact.” He unbuttoned the shirt, ruffling it out from his jeans and flapped it off his arms. 

“What vocation you going for?” 

“Model? Actor? Front man of a boy band.” 

Ciara cracked out a laugh. “Only way you’ll pass for that is if you serve the bloke your lock, stock and barrels, getting him so bollocksed he can’t see.” 

“You’re good for the soul, y’know, Ciara.”

Ciara curtseyed. “You’re welcome. You still won’t go out though.” 

Declan shot a confused look over his shoulder as he rummaged around in his office wardrobe. He kept spare clothes down here for those times he needed a quick change rather than having to venture up three flights of stairs. Mostly it was shirts for when he’d been drenched with beer. Or the occasional jacket for when he had the brewers in. Or a jumper for when he needed to head into the cellar at night. But, right at the back, were a few go-tos for last minute dates. He yanked a T-shirt off a hanger and checked it over. Least it didn’t spell middle-aged owner of a centuries-old pub. It was tight. Might as well be a base layer. Perhaps it was. He wriggled into it. Thank Mary he still had a decent body. He turned to Ciara and smoothed down the creases, tucking the tee into his waistband. 

“This?” 

“Aye, you could pass for one of the fellas from Boyzone. The oldest one.” 

“Grand.” Declan ruffled his curls. 

“You still won’t go out though.” 

“Why not?” 

Ciara smirked, then angled her head for Declan to follow her. He tutted. If it was Jacob, he’d call the Garda. Or his daughter. He’d put the fella in a home himself. Because nothing was going to prevent him getting laid tonight. He needed rid of the loitering scent of Rowan, and to work off the lingering fantasy of a certain army captain. 

Ciara led Declan from his back office, through the inn’s reception and into the main bar. Irish folk played on a loop for the few customers chatting into their drinks and finishing off the special of steak and ale pie with greens. Ciara stopped, folded her arms and nodded toward one of the tables. 

Declan regretted his choice of top as it restricted his lungs expanding.

In an exact recreation of the previous night, Captain Kane Taylor stared forlornly into a pint of Guinness. Declan doubted a single drop had passed his lips and it wouldn’t be anything to do with how Shane had poured it. A shadow of a man—hunched and childlike—there was too much and nothing at all going on behind sad eyes. Declan’s desire to go to him wrenched hard. Harder than his need to release his pent-up load into a stranger. 

Ignoring Ciara’s triumphant “told ye so”, he went to him and slipped into the seat opposite. 

“Howaya?” 

Kane met his gaze, eyes dreary and empty yet filled with need. With hope. With longing. He dug deep into his jeans pocket, fished out a coin and slid it across the table. 

Declan tilted his head. “Don’t usually accept British currency. I’ll make an exception for you though.” He picked up the two pound coin and tossed it into the air, catching it in his fist. “You want change, it’ll have to be in cents.” 

“No need for change. I have a lot of thoughts to pay for.”

Declan’s lips curved into a benevolent smile. Ciara had been right. With thoughts of nothing but this man, Declan wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Bottle of Jameson’s, Ciara,” he called over to the bar. “Two glasses.” He then wrapped his hand around Kane’s pint and dragged it toward him. “I take it you’re not going to drink this?” 

“No. As much as I want to.” 

“I hope, one day, that I can drink it.”

“That day not today?” 

“That day isn’t today.” 

Declan held up the glass in salute. “Then I’ll take one for your team.” He drank the lot, dumping the empty onto the beer mat, and wiped the froth from his lips. “Can’t waste the best poured pint outside Dublin.” 

 

 

About the Author

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

Eventually she moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and it brought pen back to and paper after having written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, C F White can’t stop. 

So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  

 

Author Links

Twitter @CFWhiteUK  |  Facebook  |  Blog

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

an ebook and audio code of French Kiss (Flying into Love #1).

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions



Spanish Siesta (Flying into Love #2) by C F White #kindleunlimited

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Spanish Siesta (Flying into Love #2)

Author and Publisher: C F White

Cover Artist: Kelly Martin (KAM Design)

Release Date: July 29, 2022

Genre:  Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Friends to Lovers

Themes: Bisexual awakening, forced proximity, coming out

Heat Rating: 4 flames       

Length: 65 250 words/260 pages

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

 

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Universal Link

 

Audible US  |  Audible UK 

 

Can a Spanish siesta make Matt see his best friend the way Kieran’s been hoping he would for years?

 

Blurb

Matt Robinson just got dumped. Again. With his sister’s wedding on the horizon, he needs a plus one.

Kieran Barker has been in love with his straight best friend for far too long. It’ll never happen. Having already been left behind when Matt went to university, Kieran can’t take more heartbreak.

So when Matt invites Kieran to spend a whole week with him on the island of Majorca, Kieran can’t let himself think there’s more to it than lads on tour. All he can do is play the field to take his mind of the hot, rugby honed body of his oldest mate. Sexy men are in abundance in Magaluf, right? Matt only wants to cop off with the bridesmaid anyway.

But when Matt’s overprotectiveness about Kieran’s late-night escapades borders on jealousy, can he even dare to think that there’s more to their years of flirtations than simple bromance?

And can Matt really acknowledge his feelings when they’ll soon be returning to England, with him back to the university rugby team and two hundred miles away from Kieran.

Spanish Siesta (Flying into Love #2) is a Contemporary, Friends to Lovers, Bisexual Awakening, Forced Proximity MM Romance featuring a hot-headed rugby Fly-Half struggling with his emotions and an out-and-proud wannabe dancer suffering from unrequited love.

 

Excerpt

“Shit.” Matt grabbed Kieran by the arm, and shoved him back into the elevator, slamming his hand on any old button.  

“What the fuck, Matt?” 

The elevator shunted and they both had to grab the handrail running along the lift. 

“It’s going down!” Kieran widened his eyes. “How is it going down?” 

Matt didn’t say anything. His heart thumped and the foggy wooziness from the alcohol he thought hadn’t affected him crept up to make his head spin. The doors opened into a dark space. A basement, maybe? A cleaning closet. He’d hit the sodding service call button. 

Kieran reached out to hit the G but Matt grabbed his arm, preventing him then yanked them both out and into darkness. 

“What the—” 

Matt slapped a hand over Kieran’s mouth, “Shhh!”

The elevator doors closed, the lift moving up, surrounding them in silence. Kieran stared at him, eyes widening. Matt drifted his hand from Kieran’s mouth but held a finger to his lips. 

“What the fuck?” Kieran mouthed. 

Matt stepped farther into the dark space, checking the surroundings. He breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered they were alone then turned back to face Kieran.

“Why have you shoved me in a fucking broom cupboard?” 

Matt’s chest rose with the force of his inhalation. He tried to calm his thrashing heart. His invasive thoughts. His fear. His nerves. He couldn’t find any words. How could he explain? What would he say when he didn’t understand any of this himself? Rationality drowned by his thumping pulse, he closed his eyes to try to steady his breathing. 

“Matt?” Kieran’s voice was distant but calming. “Matt, you okay?” He placed his palm to his forehead. “Is it sunstroke?” 

Matt opened his eyes at the gentle touch, at the warm breath trickling onto his skin, at the unwavering concern in shaking lips. 

Matt shook his head. 

Kieran lowered his hand but Matt grabbed his wrist. 

“Matt? You’re scaring the fuck out of me.” 

“You think I ain’t scaring myself right now?” 

“Why?” Kieran’s question was shrouded by his sharp swallow. 

“Because I don’t know, Kier. I don’t know what’s happening.” He squeezed desperate fingers around Kieran’s wrist, glancing down to the swirls of his tribal tattoo and his breath hitched. “What’s happening to me?” 

“Too much sangria?” 

Matt pursed his lip, shaking his head. 

“Too much sun?” 

Matt shook his head. 

“You drank the tap water?” 

Matt hefted out an exasperated sigh. 

“Then, you’re gonna have to tell me.” Kieran licked his lips. “Because I’m all out of ideas.” 

Matt rubbed his thumb along the underside of Kieran’s wrist, eyes down, not able to look at Kieran as he contemplated what he should do. What he needed to do. What he was so desperate to do that it consumed his every breath. 

“Matt—”

Matt cut off Kieran’s words with a kiss. 

Kieran didn’t respond. He stood there, eyes wide as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Frozen. Stunned. Accepting Matt’s lips on his. Shit. It was wrong. This was wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Fears confirmed, Matt pulled away, sinking back against the wall, telling his thumping heart he was sorry. 

Kieran didn’t move. He didn’t breathe either.

Then, he closed his eyes to exhale the words, “You better not be fucking with me.” 

Matt met his gaze through the shadowy darkness. “Give me half a chance.” It had meant to be a light-hearted joke. Something to lift the mood. It came out wrong though and Kieran reached for the lift call button. 

Matt held out his hand. “Don’t.” He hung his head. “Please don’t. I got this far. I might need help for the next step.”

Kieran dropped his hand away. Then, after several awkward moments of silence, he said, “You kissed me.” 

“Yup.” 

“You put your lips on mine.” 

“Yup.”

“You…were going to put your tongue in my mouth.” 

“Are you a fucking snog pundit? Do you commentate all your kisses in the dark?”

“No, Matt!” Kieran raked a hand through his hair. “Just the ones that come from my best fucking mate.” He slapped Matt’s chest. “My straight best mate.” 

“I don’t recall ever saying I was straight.” 

“You don’t have to, Matt. It’s implied in your heterosexual relationships.” 

Matt cocked his head. “Bit last season, there, Kier.” 

“I’m going to choke you with bog roll in a minute.” 

“Bog roll?” 

“We’re in a fucking closet!” Kieran flapped his hands at shelves and shelves of toilet paper and cleaning products. “Which is so damn ironic, I can’t deal.” 

 

 

About the Author

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

Eventually she moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and it brought pen back to and paper after having written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, C F White can’t stop. 

So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  

 

Author Links

Twitter @CFWhiteUK  |  Facebook  |  Blog

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions



New Audiobook – Leap of Faith by C F White 

AUDIOBOOK TOUR

Book Title: Leap of Faith 

Author: C F White

Publisher: C F White

Narrator: Piers Ryman

Release Date: August 14, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Age-gap, enemies to lovers, slow burn 

Themes: Found family 

Heat Rating: 4 flames   

Length:  9 hours and 13 minutes

It is a standalone story, although the story continues as a web serial on my website with the first chapter available to download for free in audio after signing up to my newsletter.

The book does not end on a cliffhanger, although there is a possibility of continuation as mentioned above. 

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Audible US  |   Audible UK   

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK

 

Sometimes all you need is a little push 

 

Blurb 

Running from his shattered gymnastics career, Charlie Avrill’s one hope for redemption is the strange and colourful world of the circus. His skills should make him a good fit for seasoned performer, Darius Lungo. But Darius won’t compromise his high stakes act for just anyone.

Still mourning the loss of his performance partner who unexpectedly abandoned the show, Darius’s heart can’t take another temporary filler. No matter how perfect Charlie might seem at first glance. But the circus is dying, and Darius owes his bosses a stellar act to sell.

Putting their differences aside to recreate the star attraction, Darius and Charlie grow closer with each rehearsal. But Charlie’s only in the ring for a one-night-only performance and the circus is due at its next stop—off the island and into Europe.

Can Charlie push aside his fears and take the leap of faith to change his entire life? And, if he does, will Darius still be there to catch him?

Leap of Faith is a standalone age-gap, enemies to lovers, mm romance where the twists and turns don’t only happen in the ring.

 

 

About the Author

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

Eventually she moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and it brought pen back to and paper after having written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, C F White can’t stop. 

So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  

 

Author Links

Twitter @CFWhiteUK  |  Facebook  |  Blog

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

New Release – Extra Time (The District Line #4) by C F White #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Extra Time (The District Line #4)

Author: C F White

Publisher: Self-published 

Cover Artist: KAM Design 

Release Date: December 29, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance 

Trope/s: Sports/Rocker, established celebrity couple, family

Theme: Final Happy Ever After 

Heat Rating: 4 flames 

Length: 50 000 words/217 pages

It is not a standalone story.

This is an add-on final short novel to complete the District Line series. 

The District Line consists of: Kick Off, Break Through, Come Back. 

All books are available on KU, paperback and audio. And in a KU boxset. 

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Universal Link  |   Amazon US  |   Amazon UK  

 

When it’s time, it’s time.

 

Blurb

Professional footballer Jay Ruttman and rock superstar Sebastian Saunders are back.

Used to the press, used to the public interest, and used to being just the two of them, they’ve forged a life juggling their high-profile careers with their low-key relationship. And it’s working. Mostly.

There are only two things left hanging that could elevate their contentment to perfection—marriage and a child.

Six years since bridgegate, and Jay’s spectacular proposal on the Millennium Bridge, the bill has now passed for legal same-sex marriage. It looks like they might be able to finally tie the knot, and the pitter patter of tiny feet isn’t as far flung an idea as it might have first seemed.

Until Jay has his first call up to play for the national team and must, once again, decide what’s more important—family or football. 

 

Excerpt 

The short-lived peace broke when Seb announced through a wistful exhalation, “I want to have your babies.”

Jay slammed back against the wall, his head hitting hard, solid plaster. He’d feel that in the morning. “You what?” 

“Let’s have babies, Champ. Let’s have little Jays running after their little footballs and little me’s rocking out on the guitar. Well, I’ll start him on the ukulele because, little hands. But by three I’ll expect to upgrade.”

“Babe—”

“I know what you’re going to say. No womb. But, penguins, baby, look at the fucking penguins! We could do that. We could so do that.”

“Steal an egg?” Jay ran a hand over his brow. 

Davies wriggled onto his side, the pillow sliding to the floor and an elongated grunt grazed his throat. Jay ignored him to await what Seb was going to declare next. 

“We get given one.” Seb’s grin could be felt two hundred miles away and down the telecom system, only mildly preventing the need for Jay to kick the bloke in the next bed to him. “And we know our very own bitch whore!”

“We do?”

“Ann. Let’s steal her eggs and borrow her oven to cook them in.”

“I don’t—”

“She’s agreed. I already rang her.”

“So much for talking to me first before doing anything rash.”

“I didn’t impregnate her,” Seb declared in a mockingly accusatory tone. “That would be considered brash. Anyway, think on it. We’ll talk tomorrow. My programmes just started.”

“Enjoy the gay dogs.”

“Oh no, not that. I went back to porn. Although, I could probably search that on this site. Puppy play.”

“Night, Seb.”

“Night, Daddy. I love you.” Seb cut off the phone before Jay could retaliate with anything.

He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. That was some head fuck. Babies. Seb wanted babies. With him. And plural. Yes, he’d mentioned it before, but he’d thought the bloke was flapping his lips like he always did. This was serious.

And if he’d already spoken to Ann…

He then noticed there was an unseen text that had come through during that conversation. He clicked on it. 

Yes, you can have my eggs and borrow my oven. Love you. A

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!” Jay threw his phone on the bedside table and it landed with a loud thud. 

Davies flung his eyes open. “Oi, Rutters,” he growled and tossed one of the pillows across the room. It slapped Jay in the face, waking him up from his momentary paralysis. “Some of us are tryin’ a sleep ‘ere, yeah? Keep the fucking noise down.”

Jay didn’t retaliate. He was too gobsmacked. Seb’s out of left field tackle had kicked him right in the gut and that was an illegal move. Little Sebs? Could he handle little Sebs? He couldn’t handle the big one most of the time. 

Still, the thought tugged a smile from his lips as he slunk under the covers, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep to the sound of snoring.

 

About the Author

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

Eventually she moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and it brought pen back to and paper after having written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, C F White can’t stop. 

So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  

 

Author Links

Twitter @CFWhiteUK  |  Facebook  |  Blog

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

 

Giveaway 

 Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a Fade to Blank (London Lies #1) ebook.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

New Release – Bring to Light (London Lies #3) by C F White #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Bring to Light (London Lies #3)

Author: C F White

Publisher: C F White 

Cover Artist: Etheral Designs 

Release Date: December 10, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, Romantic Suspense 

Trope/s: Hurt/Comfort 

Themes: Coming out

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 79 000 words/358 pages

It is book 3 and the final part in the London Lies series.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

 

It’s a race against time, with a deadline not only on their story or their growing relationship but on their entire lives.

 

Blurb

Jackson Young and Fletcher Doherty are back in London and on a mission—to bring to light the murky underbelly of the Charles Payne media empire and, in doing so, get justice for the murder of Tallulah Payne.

It’s not a simple task though. They need proof. They need people to speak up. And they need to keep their hands off each other long enough to track down the other manipulated Lotus Flowers, convince them to come forward and find a way to bring it all to the public. Not so easy when they’re up against the most powerful men in London who are determined to separate and silence them by any means possible.

It’s a race against time, with a deadline not only on their story or their growing relationship but on their entire lives.

 

Excerpt 

Jackson Young was a new man.

The sweet, shallow breaths trickling onto his neck were testament to that transformation. He shuffled back, his skin erupting delightful goosepimples that tingled and stirred and itched for him to beg for more. He refused to move. He couldn’t bear to move. Nor to wake up. This was where he wanted to stay. Closed-in. Coddled. Safe. And wrapped up in arms and legs that clung to him like a limpet.

Like a lover.

The birds outside tweeted and morning light bled through the gaps in the blinds. Jackson wondered, for the few moments he now had to lie as content as he were, if he would ever get used to waking immersed in such nirvana. He hoped not. That would be admitting defeat. He would pray to never get used to having one of Fletcher Doherty’s legs flung haphazardly over his hip, one of his arms draped over his chest, and his face nuzzling into his neck and inhaling him as though he was the cool morning air. Because this, right now, was perfection personified. His perfect moment. He never wanted to take it for granted. He’d discovered that there was life after the Jax. And if this was it, he never wanted it to end.

Because he could live like this forever.

However long that might be.

Fletcher jerked. Then, sliding away, he rubbed his eyes, and that miniscule movement declared the self-indulgence was over. Jackson remained where he was, facing away in the bed and curled up, hoping that Fletcher would forget what was lying in wait for them and sink back in beside him.

He’d never been this needy. Not for another man. But Fletcher was everything he’d ever craved wrapped up in everything he’d always desired. He was like the drink. The coke. The lights, camera, action that had fuelled his needs since the early years. Fletcher was his addiction. His lifeblood. His obsession. The air he needed to breathe.

But if Fletcher found out any of that, he’d make Jackson go cold turkey.

So he didn’t say it. And he wouldn’t say it. He muted himself.

No comment.

The covers slipped from his body and he shivered. Fletcher rolled away, lifted, and checked the illuminated numbers on the digital clock. He then fell back to the pillows with a sigh and the scratching of fingertips down coarse facial hair indicated that any moment now, Fletcher would declare their peace and tranquility in the safe haven of a Surrey B&B had come to a bitter end.

As he would no doubt, any second now, say—

“Jackson?”

Jackson didn’t respond. Nor move. He feigned the deepest of sleeps. If Fletcher was going to start the day, then Jackson wanted him to start it the right way. For them both.

Fletcher kicked him under the duvet. “I know you’re awake.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jackson had had in mind. But he smiled, and with him facing away, Fletcher wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Fecking eejit.” Fletcher rolled back, clasped his arms around him and hauled him to his chest. Then, settling those soft, enticing lips of his to Jackson’s ear, he rumbled a deep and guttural, “Get up.”

Jackson twisted, falling into Fletcher’s arms and attacked the moment to kiss him. “I’m up,” he declared against the breath that he craved like he once had alcohol, and thrust his morning erection against Fletcher’s. 

No, he wouldn’t ever get used to waking like this. He’d cherish it. And not take it for granted like he had every other morning of his life thus far. It might have been contrite. A tad inappropriate, perhaps. And not the time to be indulging in each other’s arms. But if they couldn’t do it now, when could they? Would they ever get to the point where they could be entangled in each other without the dark clouds looming over them? Without the threat? Without the fear and worry and everything else that had brought them together in the first place.

Relationships built under stress never lasted.

So like the meals he’d had to consume in a timely manner when incarcerated at HMP Flaymore, he wanted to get what he could, while he could.

“We have to get going,” Fletcher breathed out between heated kisses.

“Then maybe just get me off?” Jackson asked the question with a hopeful lilt and a smidgen of jest by rutting himself forward. He shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to make up for lost time and living his life to the full now he knew what it was he wanted.

And what he wanted was the naked Irishman snuggled next to him and gripping him as though he was about to fall.

He had already, of course. But he couldn’t say that. Not yet. 

 

About the Author 

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

Eventually she moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and it brought pen back to and paper after having written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, C F White can’t stop. 

So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  

 

Follow C F White 

Twitter @CFWhiteUK  |  Facebook  |  Blog

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

Fade to Blank Audio code

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

New Release – Hide to Seek (London Lies 2) by C F White #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Hide to Seek (London Lies 2)

Author and Publisher: C F White

Cover Artist: Ethereal Designs 

Release Date: September 30, 2020 

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romantic Suspense 

Trope/s: Enemies to lovers, slow burn 

Themes: Hurt/Comfort 

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 76 000 words/ 318 pages

It is not a standalone story.

Goodreads 

 

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

Lust fuelled attraction is easy to ignore.

An emotional connection is harder to deny. 

 

Blurb

Jackson Young has gone into hiding. Fighting to get his name cleared and his truth heard, he’s followed Fletcher Doherty to Ireland for a safe haven from those who want to silence his story.

As they work on Jackson’s biography, their growing attraction gets harder resist. Fletcher’s made it clear though—their professional boundary isn’t to be crossed, especially with so many loose threads from each of their pasts left hanging.

But as he learns more about the once coveted celebrity’s rise to fame, and the manipulation and control that came with it, Fletcher finds it increasingly difficult to distance himself from their intimate moments. Lust fuelled attraction is easy to ignore, but an emotional connection is harder to deny.

Surrounded by Fletcher’s meddling family, and ex boyfriends who still harbour feelings of being jilted, Jackson has to play the part of his lifetime. Can he prove that he does have talent and win Fletcher’s heart as well as his trust?

And can he do it all before their idyllic hideaway is compromised?

Hide to Seek is the second book in the London Lies trilogy and is a slow burn, hurt/comfort, romantic suspense series.

 

Excerpt 

Jackson joined him at the edge of the boat as the land disappeared into the murky water that sloshed up against the stern. He didn’t say anything. Neither did Fletcher. Their silence wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t comfortable either. It was a shared moment of reflection. Of knowing this could be the only peace they might have in a long while. A three-hour ferry ride from Holyhead to Dublin on international waters meant they couldn’t be found yet. They’d managed to get through ID control without any real problems. For how many times Fletcher had done this journey, he knew the ferry border control wasn’t as meticulous in checking details as the airlines would be. It was why across water was the only way. And they needed to breathe in this sanctuary while they still could. Fletcher wasn’t sure what awaited them in Ireland. He had apprehensions about going home, about bringing Jackson Young and all that came with him, to his family. But where else could they go?

So they shared a silent agreement to just stand, stare and be.

Until Jackson broke it with an intrepid inhale and a twist of his body to face him. “We should talk,” he said through the gust of howling wind.

“Should we?” Fletcher kept his gaze forward. Or backward as it were. 

“This thing.” Jackson flapped a hand between them, his fingertips brushing Fletcher’s arm. “Us. We should probably acknowledge it.”

Fletcher breathed in, his chest rising, and slapped the railing to stand straighter. He closed his eyes, then opened them but kept his gaze on the distant horizon and not on the man beside him who was conjuring up feelings he didn’t want to concede to. Not then. Not when there was so much else left to learn between them.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Jackson slid his hand onto Fletcher’s cheek, demanding he look at him. A hand that stayed there a moment too long, with blue eyes delving into his soul and a soft thumb brushing along his yearning lips.

“You do, do ye?” 

Jackson removed his hand and Fletcher’s cheek tinged with the heat left behind, but the flecks of ice cold seawater carried up by fierce winds slapped his skin and soon wiped the warmth away. 

“You think this is too complicated to deal with now. That we need to focus on the book. On ourselves. On hiding. That’s why you left me down there, isn’t it? You can’t face me.”

“What did you think? This would be a romantic mini break?”  

“I think we need to acknowledge there’s something going on. We can’t ignore it. I spent my life ignoring what was in front of me and look what happened.” Jackson threw his hands in the air, indicating their current situation.

“I’m not ignoring you, Jax. There’s no time for us. You want this truth out, then we’re gonna have to prioritise.”

Jackson hung his head, the disappointment and hurt seeping off his deflating body. But Fletcher couldn’t do this. He couldn’t rebound so quickly again. Time after time he’d done that, and each time had hurt worse than before to the point he couldn’t trust his feelings anymore. Nor could he trust that Jackson wasn’t clinging onto anything that would save him. How could this be real? How could either of them think that this could be something? 

“I can be friends.” Fletcher made a concerted effort to keep his voice low, neutral, soothing. “Neither of us are ready for romance.”

Jackson breathed through a smile. “Are you an old romantic, Mr Doherty?” 

“Aye. I am.” Fletcher wrapped his jacket around him, arms folding. It was to stave off the blustering wind chill but also, maybe, to act as the physical barrier to coincide with the one he built up with every wretched word he spoke. “I don’t jump into bed at the first sign of attraction. So when I said, let’s see what happens, I meant it.” He sniffed as the ferry dipped and swayed, aiming for the open arms of Dublin port. “But first things first, we have to get you off this ferry as Cameron Dale.”

 

About the Author 

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and brought pen back to paper having written stories as a child but never the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, she can’t stop. So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  

 

Follow C F White 

Twitter @CFWhiteUK  |  Facebook  |  Blog

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

an ebook box set of The District Line trilogy

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

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