Sue Brown is here!

Hello friends!

I 'm so pleased to be hosting Sue Brown today as she tells us about her new release The Isle of...Where? Sue also dishes on those odd reactions we all sometimes get when people find out we're romance authors...I hear ya, Sue!

Welcome Sue. The floor is yours.

My friend and fellow author, Patricia Logan, encountered a fan of her books this week. They got talking about romance books and suddenly the lady is looking at her in awe and tells her she’s a huge fan. Oh wow! What a boost to a fabulous author.

I can’t deny that I’d love that to happen to me. I spend my life dodging describing what I write to big, burly double glazing installers, or their not-so-burly salesmen who a) tell me about the football books they’ve half-written, b) the famous authors he knows (he was an ex-jump jockey), and c) talk about sci-fi fantasy.

Yep, tell someone that you write and they have a story about the book they’ve never written or they give you *the look* because you write romance. They also have the burning question that is on everyone’s lips… altogether now… “Have you read Fifty Shades of Grey?” and the next one… “Why don’t you write a book like that?”

*bangs head against wall*

Because I like writing about gorgeous men, thanks. Here, try one of mine.

So, back to meeting fans. I’ve met one lady who reads and is not a writer *Hi, Josie*. But I’ve never just encountered a real live reader just by accident. Now you’re probably thinking what is the woman waffling about? All readers are alive. Of course they are. But I don’t see them. Like most authors I exist in a vacuum, unless I speak to them on Facebook. I love each and every one who buys my books – my kids thank you – but I probably won’t meet them.

I can’t deny I dream about having my Patricia Logan moment. Well, that’s enough waffling. I’m off to wrestle my cowboys into bed. If you see a middle-aged woman in Starbucks muttering “Leg over, hand on cock, and bam!” that is probably me. Do come and say hello. I’ll even buy you a coffee.

Author Bio: Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn't following their orders, she can be found plotting at her laptop. In fact she hides so she can plot and has got expert at ignoring the orders.

Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she's made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.

She can be found at her website, her Facebook, and twitter.

The Isle of… Where?

Buylink:http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3053

Blurb:When Liam Marshall’s best friend, Alex, loses his fight with colon cancer, he leaves Liam one final request: buy a ticket to Ryde, on the Isle of Wight, and scatter Alex’s ashes off the pier. Liam is tired, worn out, and in desperate need of a vacation, but instead of sun, sea, sand, and hot cabana boys, he gets a rickety old train, revolting kids, and no Ewan MacGregor.

Liam would have done anything for his friend, but fulfilling Alex’s final wish means letting go of the only family Liam had left. Lost, he freezes on the pier… until Sam Owens comes to his rescue.

Sam’s family has vacationed on the Isle of Wight every year for as long as he can remember, but he’s never met anyone like Liam. Determined to make Liam’s vacation one to remember, Sam looks after him—in and out of the bedroom. He even introduces Liam to his entire family. But as Sam helps Liam let go, he’s forced to admit that he wants Liam to hang on—not to his old life, but to Sam and what they have together.

Excerpt:The beach was empty, miles of golden sand laid out for them to dig up. It was also freezing, and Liam shivered. It hadn’t occurred to him to bring a jacket, and the wind whipping off the sparkling waves sucked any heat from the sun.

“You’re shivering,” Sam said unnecessarily. “Here.” He slipped off the hoodie he was wearing, holding it out so that Liam could slip it over his head.

“Then you’ll get cold,” Liam pointed out.

“Put it on,” Sam insisted.

Giving in, because he was fucking freezing, Liam tugged on the soft gray hoodie. It drowned him a little, but it was warm and Liam didn’t care. He cared even less when he looked up and saw the open lust in Sam’s eyes.

“You like me wearing your clothes, huh?”

Sam swallowed and Liam had the feeling that if they weren’t in the open, Sam would have jumped him. As it was, he got up close, too close.

“I wanna fuck you wearing that hoodie and nothing else,” Sam whispered in Liam’s ear, his hot breath ghosting over Sam’s neck. There was no need to whisper, no one was in earshot, but it was hot as hell, and Liam couldn’t help the hitch of breath or the moan that escaped him. But because Sam was talking about fucking, Liam had to retort.

“Just remember, I do the fucking.”

“If you wear this hoodie and your arse is bare, I don’t care who fucks who.”

Liam swallowed hard. Sam chuckled and brushed a quick kiss over his lips.

“Sandcastles.”

“Huh?” Liam was soaking up the way Sam filled his senses. Words took a while longer to process.

To his regret, Sam took a step back. “Sandcastles,” he repeated. “Otherwise things could get interesting out here, and much as people like me, I don’t think they’d forgive a display of bare-arsed man-loving in a hurry.”

Sadly, Sam was probably right, and Liam had to postpone the thought of throwing Sam down on the sand for another time. It didn’t occur to him until much later that he was already planning to spend more time with Sam.

Sam jogged back to Molly and picked up the kids’ buckets and spades from the pea-sized trunk. Liam had been firmly corrected and told it was the boot. Whatever. It was still miniscule.

He handed Liam the purple spade and the orange bucket, keeping rainbow ones for himself. When Liam protested, Sam just gave him a look.

“You got my hoodie. Now stop complaining.”