Tag Archives: totally bound

Growing old disgracefully #MondayShoutOut from Raven @RavenMcAllan

I’m at the stage in my life where, according to some crap I read the other day, I should evidently be slowing down. I have my bus pass, and should spend my time dozing in the chair watching soaps and knitting. (no pipe and slippers though) Oh and if I’m feeling brave, get the bus into town (using the bus pass of course) and have a wander around Marks and Spencer’s classic collection.

 

Phooey to that. I can’t knit, don’t watch the soaps, and if I doze in the chair I wake up with a crick in my neck. Oh and I prefer M&S food to the classic collection.

 

Their G-F goodies are excellent. Not the bread, but you can’t have everything.

 

And anyway, according to another article, one I like much better, your 60’s are the new 40’s.

 

I have, you see, decided that I’m not ashamed of my age. Why do so many of us when asked how old we are mutter and mumble and then say something like I hate having to answer that.

 

I used to be like that. Then I thought hold on. I have years of learning in me. Years where I discovered who I am, what I am and what I intend to be.

Years where I discovered I had a brain and a mind of my own. Discovered I could write, did write and became a published author. Time to accept I was not going to grow old gracefully, but more than likely disgracefully and enjoy every second.

Time to have learned (or not) from my mistakes, and accept that, and move on.

And time to accept that I’ve been lucky and got to the age I am. There’s a hell of a lot of people who, for some reason or another will never get to bus pass age.

 

I had a birthday a few days ago. I got the cake, the fizz and lots of pressies. And an out of tune rendition of, ‘When I’m 64’ with the words slightly changed to… ‘I will still need you, I will still feed you, now your sixty four.’

 

Which, he did…

 

The plug…

 

It’s a busy month for me. I have a book out with the fabulous Doris O’Connor, The Dukes’ Christmas Abductions,

 

 

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-dukes-christmas-abductions-by-doris-oconnor-and-raven-mcallan/

and one on my own,  Holly’s Christmas Dom,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/hollys-christmas-dom-by-raven-mcallan

 

 

Ohhh and book five of Diomhair, Secrets Learned goes on preorder tomorrow (15th)

Love

R xxx

 

Letters to a War Zone – New Release from Lucy Felthouse

Hi everyone,

I’m delighted to announce my second new release for the month. Letters to a War Zone is a m/m military erotic romance short story, published by Totally Bound. Doesn’t that cover just make you want to swoon? I love it 🙂

Letters to a War ZoneHere’s the blurb:

When lonely insurance broker, Bailey, gets himself a new hobby, he ends up exchanging letters with a war zone. But he’s not expecting what happens next…

Bailey Hodgkiss is lonely and dissatisfied with his boring life as an insurance broker. In an attempt to insert some variety, he signs up to a website to write to serving soldiers. He’s put in touch with Corporal Nick Rock, and over the course of a couple of letters, the two of them strike up a friendship. They begin to divulge their secrets, including their preference for men.

Nick encourages Bailey to add more interests to his life. As a result, Bailey picks up his forgotten hobby, photography, and quickly decides to team it up with his other preferred interest, travel.

Booking a holiday to Rome is his biggest gesture towards a more exciting existence, and he eagerly looks forward to the trip. That is, until Nick says he’s coming home on leave, and it looks as though their respective trips will prevent them from meeting in person. Is there enough of a spark between them to push them to meet, or will their relationship remain on paper only?

And here’s an excerpt:

After clicking all the available links on the website to find out more about it, Bailey decided to go ahead and sign up. He’d never know what it was really like unless he gave it a go.

He’d read about the site in an article somewhere, about how it linked people with serving soldiers, pilots, marines and sailors in order to write to them. It had been proven that receiving mail—even from someone they didn’t know—improved military morale. It sounded like a damn good use of time to Bailey, and it would be interesting, too.

He began typing his details into the online form. Of course, the chances were that he’d be paired up with a man, given the ratio of males to females in the forces. It didn’t matter, though. He could still exchange letters with a guy, become friends. It seemed like such an old-school way to communicate with someone, given how technology had come on over the years, but at least it was different. Perhaps it would give him something in his life to look forward to, something other than getting up, showering, going to work, coming home, eating, watching television and going to bed. The watching television—and even the eating—were occasionally replaced by nights out with friends or seeing family. Weekends were spent cleaning, washing clothes, gardening and odd jobs. Dull stuff, in other words.

He had an utterly mundane life, and Bailey knew it. It wasn’t even as if his job was exciting. Insurance broking was hardly thrilling, game-changing, or going to save the world. He didn’t expect having a pen pal to change his entire life, but it would certainly break the monotony. Hopefully.

He went through the various steps to fill in his details and create a profile, then continued right through to the information on actually writing and sending the letters. It looked straightforward enough.

His mind made up, Bailey immediately went in search of a pen, some nice paper and an envelope. Armed with a print out of exactly what to do when the letter was finished, he settled down at the kitchen table. Instantly, his mind went blank. What the fuck was he meant to say? He didn’t know any soldiers or other military personnel, didn’t know anything about their lives, other than there was a great deal more to it than shooting people and being shot at. His own existence was so fucking boring that he didn’t want to write about it. Unless there were any insomniacs in Afghanistan—telling them about his day would solve that particular condition right away.

After chewing on his biro until it broke, covering his lips and chin with ink, Bailey replaced it, resolving to try harder. He’d tell his pen pal the bare essentials about himself, then ask lots of questions about them and their work. That was bound to rustle up some conversation.

That decided, he began to write, absentmindedly swiping at his inky skin with a tissue. He’d have to scrub it off when he was done with the note. His wrist and hand had begun to ache before he was halfway down the page. He rolled his eyes. He sat on his arse at a desk all day, using a computer. As a result, even writing something short by hand was hard work! There was no way he was going to divulge thatparticular piece of information to someone that was willing to lay down their life to protect their country.

He just about managed to fill a single side of the A5-sized paper. And that was only because he’d formed large letters and spaced his words and lines out plenty. But he tried not to worry—at least he’d finished it, his first letter to a war zone.

He read through it carefully, relieved to find no mistakes. He’d forgotten how much more difficult—and messy—errors were on the written page. Computers let you edit and rewrite to your heart’s content. No correction fluid or crossings-out necessary.

Finally, he addressed the envelope. It felt like the longest address ever. The area and country was bad enough, even without including the soldier’s name and BFPO address. But it was done—Bailey Hodgkiss had penned a missive to Corporal Nick Rock, currently stationed at Camp Bastion, Helmand Province, Afghanistan.

Now he’d just have to post it and wait for a reply. The website had said his missive would take between one and three weeks to reach Corporal Rock. Then he had to allow for time for him to read it and send a reply. It could be around six weeks before he heard anything. If he heard anything at all.

Want more? Grab the book here: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/letters-to-a-war-zone/

Add it to your Goodreads shelves: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20722128-letters-to-a-war-zone

Happy Reading!

Lucy x

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9