Sunday, 29 November 2015

Christmas Kisses - Free Draw

Enter a draw to win an ebook copy of my forthcoming fiction - 'Christmas Kisses' on publication

Simply email me at:  putting 'Christmas Kisses' as the subject line.

James Arthur Silver, just turned forty, coffee lover and old-fashioned bibliophile was the proud owner of ‘The Silver Coffee Lounge & Book Exchange’ on Angel Street in the North Riding town of Old Thursk. People often asked why he hadn’t simply named his business ‘JAS.’ JAS, the sum total of his initials, had a catchy, snappy and modern sound to it, they said, while often flickering their hands in the style of Al Johnson. James patiently explained why he had chosen to be verbose rather than concise - while he could be snappy upon occasion, he wasn’t in the least bit catchy and modern. In fact the very words made him shudder.
James Arthur Silver liked books, real books made from printed-paper, not those soulless ebook things that people read on their horrible plastic encased digital devices. There was no Internet connection in his shop, thank you very much, no wi-fi, and all that jazz. The coffee lounge was a technology free zone. A notice on the door announced this fact without shame. Laptops, Kindles, mobile phones etc and so on, were banned. Patrons of his premises could leave such things at home or switch them off before crossing the threshold.
People who did cross the threshold were welcome to pull a real book off real shelves and then settle down on a comfy chair or sofa, order a good coffee, or other beverage of choice, and get stuck into some good old-fashioned page turning reading. There were plenty of books to choose from. They lined the walls of the coffee lounge in all their glory. Many of them were an overspill from James’s own vast collection, housed in the flat above the premises. It was his love of books and coffee that had spawned the idea for his business venture when voluntary redundancy from the high ranking end of the Civil Service left him with time and money on his hands.
At thirty-seven years old, James wasn’t quite ready to idle his days away and decided to look around for alternative employment, on his own terms of course. He’d had enough of being a desk jockey and office rat. When the man who ran the antique shop beneath his flat jumped on the retirement horse, James decided not to bother to rent out to someone new. Why own commercial premises and not make use of them, so he did. The landlord and ex-civil servant turned caterer instead. ‘The Silver Coffee Lounge & Book Exchange’ was born.
The idea was simple. People could bring books and take books. Books could be read inside the shop, there was an alphabetically arranged shelf for books in process of being read. Complimentary bookmarks were provided, so as not to lose one’s place. Eager readers could take books home to read, and then return them. People also brought in their own surplus books and popped them on the shelves for others to enjoy. It was a kind of unofficial library with on tap coffee and cakes.
The business was a success. It proved a little haven in a busy modern world and it didn’t just attract the older patron either. He had a mixed clientele, and a surprising number of them were young people. They loved the old fashioned nature of the shop and seemed to welcome a break from the stress and strains of the modern digital era they had been born into. They relished talking face to face instead of Facebook to Facebook. James welcomed them with open arms, as long as they behaved themselves and kept their gadgets in their pockets. Anyone caught trying to access a device on his premises was sharply told to switch off or ship out. Not many people argued with a six foot ex-civil servant who looked like he could handle himself physically as well as verbally.
Along with coffee and other assorted beverages, James sold a modest array of edible goodies as well as a selection of classy greetings cards and small gifts. Life was good. Mostly. There was one small thorn in James’s side, his assistant, Josh, or rather the lack of him. He glanced at his watch. It was twenty to eight on a Monday morning and still no sign of him.

Thursday, 24 September 2015

Wednesday, 2 September 2015

Kindle EBook Theft!

If asked, most people would agree that it is indeed wrong to steal money from someone. So, that said, when it comes to kindle ebooks, why do so many people think it’s okay to steal? For a long time now indie authors and publishers have been complaining about Amazons’ return policy on ebooks.  It allows kindle owners to buy, download, read and probably copy an ebook and then return it for a refund. Greedy readers abuse this policy time and time again. Effectively, such readers are thieves. Do they imagine that every time they claim a refund for an ebook that the refund comes from the pocket of Jeff Bezos, Amazons’ multi-millionaire owner? It doesn’t. It’s taken directly from non-millionaire authors. Amazon seriously needs to address this problem by at least reducing the time period that an ebook can be returned within. Indie authors and publishers have helped build the success of the KDP platform and we deserve better treatment.

Most book blurbs give a pretty good description of the subject matter of a book and that along with the ability to dip into a book before buying is surely enough information for a reader to decide whether they want to buy? In that regard, returns based on ‘bought by mistake’ are mostly suspect? Very few returns will be down to technical problems so that just leaves readers who want a book, but don’t want to pay for it. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t like it as much as you thought you would. That’s just tough. I buy a ton of paperbacks and some I like more than others and some I never finish, but I have never felt I have the right to claim a refund. I made the decision to buy based on the blurb and from flicking through the pages.

As an author I don’t make a living from my books, not even close to it. The modest money I make helps me pay a few bills and buy a few extras. So, to the person who recently bought, downloaded and then returned six, yes SIX, of my titles, I say this: thank you for making it so much harder for me to make ends meet in the coming months. I hope you sleep well. It’s not as if I ask a huge amount to begin with. Most of my titles cost less than the price of a cup of coffee and a cookie.

Most indie authors have been led to believe that they should give away their work for free or almost free, it’s a lingering aspect of the stigma still attached to self-publishers. It shouldn’t be the case. It has encouraged readers to believe they are entitled to free books. We work damned hard on our stories and books and we deserve some return, rather than our work being returned, so some greedy person can enjoy a free read at our expense. 

Amazon needs to re-think its return and refund policy on kindle ebooks, it owes it to the writers and publishers who have contributed, no matter how modestly, to the KDP empire.

Sunday, 12 July 2015

Decapitating Santa

I've posted a new extract from work in progress, 'Stardust Tales.'  You can read it on my website here.  
 I hope you enjoy it. :-) It's set in January, so might prove a cooling antidote to the hot July weather. ;-)

On a personal level, I've had another dip in health and well-being, so thing have slowed again on the writing front as I try to recover. Hopefully I will get on top of it and feel better soon. 

Don't forget that the Smashwords Summer/Winter event is in progress until the end of July. There are lots of bargains to be had.

Tuesday, 7 July 2015

Sweet Reasoning - A Jack and Danny Short Story

A fun short story for Jack and Danny fans. This story contains consensual spanking and domestic discipline scenes.

Jack and Danny are the stars of Top/brat comedy ‘The Jack and Danny Chronicles.’

In this tongue-in-cheek story Danny has an eye on forbidden fruits. Will his Top, Jack, give in and allow him to have what he lusts after?


Forsooth, what magic was this? I could scarce believe my eyes. I stared in wonder, moved almost to tears at sight of such beatific sweetness. Love, nay, lust stirred deep within me. I must have possession of them or surely go insane with desire. I looked about me, seeking to locate he who could grant my wishes and make gift of these marvellous jewels unto me. My eyes raked the plebeian market crowd and at last came to rest upon the tall noble figure of my beloved lord, who was deep in thoughtful counsel, considering the merits of one kind of merchandise against that of another. He would I knew choose wisely. I discreetly sought to turn his attentions from the merchandise in his hands to my small, but perfectly proportioned person.


My discreet attention seeking seemed to have a startling affect on my beloved. (I really rather worried about his nerves sometimes.) The tins of cat food he’d been deliberating over dropped from his hands, bouncing across the supermarket floor, jamming themselves under the trolley wheels of a woman who was speed shopping, thus bringing her to a sudden and abrupt halt. Consequently she shot over the handlebar of the trolley, bowling into a display of canned dog food and sending them flying like ninepins.

Jesus! I blushed furiously. Much as I love Jack he does seem to attract disaster sometimes. It was getting to the point where I was afraid to go out with him. I watched as with typical old world courtesy, he helped the bemused lady to her feet and with much apology parked her safely behind her laden trolley once more. She steered a rather erratic course towards the checkouts.

Jack on the other hand steered a very straight course in my direction. Grasping my elbow he manoeuvred me into the only deserted aisle in the shop, the one where all the no fat, low sugar, vegan friendly, healthy option products were shelved. My ears flattened themselves against my head as he assailed them with a scorching lecture about appropriate supermarket etiquette and consideration to other shoppers.
At last he ran out of steam and I was able to insert a small, but sincere, “sorry, Jack.”
He ran a hand through his thick dark hair. “What was so important that you felt you had to break the sound barrier to get my attention?”

“You have to see this, Jack, come on.” Grabbing his hand I dragged him over to the display that had so entranced me. “Look.” Reverently picking out a packet from the display dumper I held it up to him, saying in breathily hallowed tones, “isn’t it marvellous?”

Jack blinked. “It’s a packet of chocolate Malteasers, Danny, what’s so marvellous about them?”

Was the man blind?

I shook the bag at him with a seductive air, “not just ordinary Malteasers, Jack. Look at them closely. They’re WHITE chocolate Malteasers. What will they think of next? They’re a miracle of confectionary.”

“Danny my pet,” disappointingly un-seduced, he gently took the bag from my hot little hand and placed it back in the display dumper. “I don’t care if they’re multi coloured and in line for Papal Beautification, you’re still not having a packet, not now, not ever.”

Sarcasm with a religious theme! Lovely. I scowled at him, “that’s not fair, Jack. It’s Saturday and we agreed that Saturday was my let my hair down, forget healthy eating, stuff my face with junk of my choice day.”

“True,” he nodded agreement, “but not Malteasers. Malteasers, as you know only too well, are permanently off limits.”

“Please, Jack, I have to try these.” I gazed at him, trying to emulate the appealing look on the face of the pup that adorned the pack of toilet roll in our shopping trolley…though why they use a puppy to promote toilet roll is something I have never understood. There was another brand that claimed to be kitten soft. The whole concept caused me deep disturbance, seeming to suggest advertising agents had experimentally wiped their arses on a variety of small furry animals before settling on a puppy and kitten as being softest and therefore most likely to successfully sell toilet roll.

Speaking personally I wouldn’t risk wiping my bum with a kitten, not with all those little needle claws they have. You’d end up with a hissing, spitting sporran dangling from your bollocks. The whole thing was a disgrace really. It made you wonder if the RSPCA were doing their job properly, allowing helpless little creatures to be so misused. I’d a good mind to write to my MP about it, whoever he/she is, or maybe even Rolf Harris and the Animal Hospital crew. They could do a special feature on it. I might even get to make a guest appearance: ‘Daniel Macintyre highlights disturbing animal abuse by advertising agencies.’ I could end up with my own Watchdog programme, possibly assisted by Dale Winton and that antiques guy, the one with a face like a beige hush puppy…bugger, I’ve lost my thread, where was I?

Oh yes…my appealing puppy dog looks had little effect on Jack. He was unmoved, heartless swine that he is.

“It’s no good looking at me like that, Danny. I’m not going to change my mind.”

Having failed in the appealing puppy dog look category. I launched straight into another puppy dog trait, whining. “I don’t think you appreciate the momentous nature of this situation, Jack. You’re not being fair. I mean they’re white Malteasers, Malteasers coated in white chocolate, that’s two of my favourite things in one event, white chocolate and Malteasers, together, a marriage of perfection, and look, it says on the display, they’re a limited edition. I may never get the chance to try them again, it would be a tragedy, please, just this once. I’ll never ask for anything else ever again, ever, I promise, not ever, or hardly ever, maybe once a month, but no more than that, not even if I really want to.”

Jack folded his arms, “finished?”

I nodded, feeling I’d stated my case as well as it could be stated at this juncture.

“Good.” Jack smiled. He then swiftly unfolded his arms and leaned towards me with a look of gentle menace in his eyes. “Watch my lips, Danny, the answer is NO, that’s two letters, N and O, together, spelling no, not yes, not maybe, but no, just that, NO, which, as well as being the chemical symbol for nobelium is also a word used, as in this case, to state denial, disagreement or refusal.”

 Sweet Reasoning at All Romance. 

This story is also included in the 'Gay Briefs' anthology.

Wednesday, 1 July 2015

Jack and Danny - One Top and His Brat.

Book of the month for July 2015 - The Jack and Danny Chronicles. If you're a fan of traditional, tongue in cheek, honest to goodness one Top and his brat fiction, then the Jack and Danny Chronicles are just the ticket. Packed full of laughs, quips, disasters and of course spankings.

Smashwords Offer - 50% Off!

Promotional price: $2.00
Coupon Code: DC24P
Expires: August 1, 2015


Meet Daniel Macintyre, a young, happy go lucky, short but beautifully proportioned romantic and intellectual action hero, at least in his own mind.

From computer fires to escaped tarantulas Danny seems to causes chaos wherever he goes. He wouldn’t mind so much, but none of it is ever his fault, well, hardly ever!

Danny’s partner is the stereotypically tall, dark and handsome Jack Kinross. When it comes to communicating with Danny, Jack relies heavily on sign language executed by hand, though often aided and abetted by a large wooden hairbrush.

Jack does his best to keep his mischievous young lover in line in this comic tale of misadventures.

Warning: contains strong language, highly improbable situations and gratuitous use of puns.

Want to know more about Top/brat fiction? Then click here for my take on this highly original genre of fiction. 


Look out for the discount codes next to each book and pick up a bargain.