Friday, August 3, 2018

Their Famous Dominant by Nicole Edwards

Their Famous Dominant HTML

More specifically, Trent Ramsey, one of the clubs' famous members? 

He is back! And is the hotter than ever Office Intrigue Series by Nicole Edwards! Ready for his story? Ready for the heat? Grab it now! 

Their Famous Dominant, An Office Intrigue Novel
by Nicole Edwards



Release date: July 31st, 2018


*Menage Romance

My name is Trent Ramsey. It’s possible you’ve heard of me. I’m one of the highest paid actors in Hollywood. Not only that, but I’ve built a vast empire of businesses, including two of the hottest BDSM clubs on the map. My face has been plastered on big screens and magazines for over a decade. Plus, I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.

At one point in my life, I thought that was enough to make me happy.

So, why am I not? Why have I found myself at a crossroad? It’s not like I don’t know what I want. I know exactly what I want.

Or rather who.

But it isn’t what you think. I’m not after a submissive who will fill the void. No, it’s never that easy for me.

I’m after two and they aren’t both submissives. Or rather, they aren’t both in the lifestyle because they are both definitely submissive. In fact, one happens to be my personal assistant, a man who has spent the past three years working alongside me, helping to manage my entire world.

Although my mind has been set on one particular woman for so long, I can’t deny I have an overwhelming urge to dominate him, too.


Better yet, both of them together.


At the same time.


Publisher: Nicole Edwards Limited
Cover Photo: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Thom Panto





Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/NEtfdBN




THEIR FAMOUS DOMINANT (OFFICE INTRIGUE, 4) CHAPTER ONE 

Trent
Saturday, August 4


“MASTER RAMSEY?”

Turning at the sound of my name, I noticed the blushing submissive staring at me, flanked on both sides by her tuxedo-wearing Doms. While her light blue eyes were wide with what could only pass as star-struck wonder, her Dominants’ identical hazel eyes were filled with amusement.

Langston Moore and his twin brother, Landon, had just claimed their submissive in an official collaring ceremony in front of their friends and family. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t completely honored that they’d thought to include me.

My mind snapshotted the image of the threesome, a memory of this day etched in my mind for future reference.

“Luci,” I greeted, smiling at the young woman who was the star of today’s festivities. While it was evident Luciana Moore wanted to say something, no words fell from her lips as she stared back at me with eyes as round as saucers.

“Go on, pet,” Landon urged his beaming bride.

“I … uh…” Luci’s voice chirped on the last word.

Langston chuckled. “What our tongue-tied submissive wants to say is thank you for bein’ here today.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” I shook hands with Langston, then Landon. “The ceremony was beautiful.”

“As is our submissive,” Landon noted with pride.

I peered down at the petite submissive, who looked like an erotic fairy princess clad in an elegantly designed white corset, a platinum and diamond collar gracing her neck, and little else. “I’d have to agree. It’s been a memorable day.”
“With no small thanks to you for the venue,” Langston added.

“The location was merely the backdrop,” I told him, my gaze stopping on Luci once more. “You, young lady, are even more beautiful now that you’ve been officially collared.”

Luci blushed as she usually did when she was around me. “Thank you, Master Ramsey.”

“I still remember the first night I met you at Dichotomy.” My gaze shot to Landon. “She came with you that night.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “She did.”
“And I’m sure she was just as star-struck then as she is now,” Langston noted.
“She was,” I agreed. “In fact, if I recall, that response broke one of Landon’s rules and you spent most of the night walking around naked.”

“Mostly naked,” Landon corrected. “I allowed her to keep on the G-string.”

I grinned, and Luci blushed again.

Needless to say, it had been interesting to witness, as it was any time a new submissive was introduced into our world.

“Thank you for overlooking my blunder that night, Master Ramsey,” Luci replied, her voice husky and soft.

“You were quite sweet.”

“But seriously,” Landon said, his tone sobering. “We’re honored that you attended.”

“Don’t be honored,” I told him with a smirk. “I have every intention of drinking my weight in champagne. It won’t be cheap.”

Landon laughed. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Truth is,” Langston said, “I didn’t think you were that easy, Ramsey. You didn’t even put up a fight when I invited you.”

He was right. I wasn’t easy. Usually.

“I’m only easy for you, my friend,” I told him, grinning.

In the past year and a half, Langston and his three partners at his PR firm—his twin brother, Landon, along with Justin Parker and Benjamin Snowden—had become good friends of mine. We met through Dichotomy, the BDSM club I opened in Chicago roughly two years ago. The four men were part of the first wave of members who had joined the club and I’d gotten well acquainted with them.

Partially because of them, I’d been spending more and more time here in Chicago in recent months, needing a break from the monotony that had become my life.

“Probably not wise to let word get out that you’ll roll over with very little persuasion.” Langston chuckled, his gaze darting to the people milling about behind us. “Those subs following you around like lost puppies might think twice.”

I didn’t bother looking back at the submissives I knew were mingling nearby. I had yet to show any interest whatsoever, however they still trailed close behind. It was something I despised, and any submissive who hoped for even a small amount of my attention knew that.

“One could only be so lucky,” I told him.

Langston’s gaze slid to the far side of the room and mine followed.

“Your assistant looks a little out of sorts,” he said with a grin.

I allowed my eyes to rake over the handsome man donning a designer tux and a wild-eyed expression as he took in everything around him.

"This is a first for him,” I told them.

“Well, you wouldn’t know it,” Langston said facetiously.

“What gave it away?”

“Probably the fact that his jaw is dragging the floor,” Langston said with a laugh.

At least the boy had the sense to keep his tongue in his mouth.

“Give him time,” Landon chimed in. “He’ll get used to it.”

I had to wonder whether that was true or not. While I had purposely kept my assistant out of this side of my life, something had compelled me to invite him today. I was glad that I had because I enjoyed his company. He was one of the few people in the world I trusted implicitly. It had taken three years to get to that point, but I knew he had my best interests at heart.

I turned my attention back to the triad before me. “Is King around?”

Langston’s eyes scanned the area behind me, obviously seeking out his father. “He’s around here somewhere. Probably tryin’ to keep a tight leash on our mother.” Langston looked back at me and grinned. “You know how parents can be. I’m not sure anything is good enough for her boys and our mother’s been flutterin’ around, tryin’ to ensure everything is perfect.”

“Well, someone should tell her she accomplished her goal,” I informed Langston, choosing to slide right over the reference to mothers.

If anyone wanted parental advice, I was the last person they should come to. My own mother had put me up for adoption when she was a whopping fourteen years old. I didn’t know who she was, much less who had sired me. Nor did I care.

A nice couple had adopted me when I was a newborn, but a fire in our home had taken their lives when I was seven. The neighbor had managed to get me out, but by the time he did, the house was fully engulfed. According to the medical examiner, they died of smoke inhalation.

At that point, without any family who could care for me, I ended up back in foster care—where I was obviously destined to be. I spent several years in and out of homes, largely due to my age, along with my inability to behave. When I was fourteen, Rosa and Daniel Singer had come into my life. Although they never officially adopted me, they did foster me through most of my formative years.

While it hadn’t been a childhood grounded in routine or consistency, I couldn’t complain too much. I wasn’t broken in the sense I’d had a shitty childhood, and I damn sure didn’t want anyone’s pity.

However, I did attribute the lack of control to my innate need to be in control now. It was one of the reasons I’d ventured into the realm of BDSM and then practically built my life around it.

I noticed several others lining up, probably hoping to give their congratulations to the threesome. “Well, I should stop monopolizing your time.”

Langston smirked. “You headin’ back to Texas after this?”

“Actually, I’m off to California to meet with my agent.”

Landon cleared his throat. “Official business?”

I met the other man’s curious hazel eyes. “We’ve got a few things to discuss.”

“We’re still considerin’ your proposal,” he admitted quickly.

I shook my head and huffed a laugh. “While I’m a businessman first, today is not for that. We’ll catch up in a couple of weeks when you’re back from your honeymoon.”

Landon nodded, but I could see his reluctance. While I was eager to find out whether or not the partners had come to a decision regarding the proposal I’d made, I wasn’t going to allow that to interfere with the festivities today.

“Well, thank you again for handlin’ the venue,” Landon said, motioning toward our surroundings. “We couldn’t have asked for a better place.”

“Even if I remember specifically tellin’ you we weren’t lookin’ for anything fancy,” Langston tacked on. The significant stress on fancy did not go unnoticed. “I should’ve known how you rich boys work.”

I laughed. With a net worth of 750 million dollars, I could hold my own, sure. However, I happened to know that Langston and his partners weren’t doing too bad in the finance department. In fact, they were in the process of expanding an already outrageously profitable business. Chatter PR Global was officially the third-ranked public relations firm in the world.

Granted, my side ventures were quickly increasing my wealth and I could credit that to good business decisions on my part. Not only was I one of, if not the highest-paid actor in Hollywood, I was also a venture capitalist and I had my hand in many pies. Along with the dozens of start-ups I’d helped fund, I was a silent partner in many things, owned some impressive real estate that was turning nice profits. I’d learned to diversify early on and it had paid off. Even more so since I’d invested in a technology company that was in the process of launching a software platform that would change the way most people did business.

In a word, I was rich. No sense denying it. However, I was also pragmatic.

“I promised you wouldn’t be disappointed, Moore,” I reminded Langston.

“That you did,” he agreed. “You were true to your word.”

Admittedly, this had been the perfect venue for a formal collaring ceremony. In fact, it was a place I’d considered for myself should I ever find a submissive of my own. Unfortunately, at the rate I was going, I wasn’t sure that would ever happen.

“All right,” I told them firmly. “I’m off to see if I can get my assistant to relax a little.”

“Maybe offer him some champagne,” Landon suggested. “Or bourbon.”

I glanced over at Troy. I wasn’t sure any amount of alcohol was going to help.

“Thanks again for comin’,” Langston said.

“My pleasure.” I turned my attention to Luci one last time. “You keep these boys in line.”

“I will, Master Ramsey,” she answered, still slightly bewildered.

With a smile, I turned and ambled away, my gaze landing on my assistant.

Troy Shelton—my personal assistant for the past three years—looked as though he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Even in spite of that, he was a very attractive man. He took good care of himself, which I found ridiculously appealing. Well-built with his sculpted chest and narrow waist, tall. He filled out a tuxedo nicely.

His shoulder-length, dark brown hair hung loosely in that style that said he didn’t care what it looked like but he spent plenty of time getting it to do what he wanted it to do. His jaw had that purposeful stubble, his cheekbones were high, his nose perfectly proportioned to his face, and his mocha-brown eyes didn’t look tired or strung out. In my world, that was not the norm. Considering my demanding schedule and my equally demanding personality, that was a wonder, really.

The thought made me smile.

There was something inexplicably masculine about him, but underneath, there was something innately submissive.

When a waiter offered champagne, I took two glasses from his tray.

“You all right?” I asked when I approached Troy, handing over one of the glasses.

Uncertain brown eyes flew up to my face as Troy nodded. “Of course, boss.”

I smiled to myself as I scanned the crowd, taking note of the numerous bodyguards strategically placed throughout. While security of this magnitude wasn’t usually necessary at a function such as this, I’d had to come up with a backup plan when word leaked that I was going to be attending today’s ceremony. Luckily, I had friends in high places and it had only taken one phone call to ensure the press wasn’t going to sneak into the party without an invitation.

“By the way, boss, Ken called. Twice. Said he needs an answer.”

I frowned. “Ignore his calls,” I instructed. “I’ll discuss with him in person on Monday.”

“Have you made a decision?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” I told him. I’d known from the beginning of the unnecessary negotiations that I was turning down the part I was being offered. Although the movie would no doubt be a success, I was taking fewer and fewer roles these days for personal reasons. The only person who didn’t seem to get it was my agent.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Troy offered.

Casting a sideways glance his way, I kept my initial response to myself. There was something I wanted from him, but we had a long way to go before we ever got to that place.

“I’m good for now,” I replied. “We’re here to relax, not work.”

“Right, boss.” His eyes widened as a Domme walked by, leading her scantily clad submissive around with a leash.

While Troy was otherwise preoccupied ogling the people around us, I let my gaze trail over him momentarily. I had no idea what I was doing checking him out, but I found something uniquely appealing about the man. Although my mind had been set on one particular woman for so long, I couldn’t deny the fact that I had an overwhelming urge to dominate Troy.

Better yet, both of them together.
At the same time.
For those who knew me, that was an important detail that would come into play one day.

I just had no idea that one day would come quite so soon.

~ Copyright 2018, Nicole Edwards Limited.


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Thursday, August 2, 2018

New Release- Won't Feel a Thing by C.F. White

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Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Pride

Length: 64,000 words approx.

Publisher: Pride Publishing

Blurb


It takes more than a doctor to mend a broken heart.



Ollie Warne is fresh out of nursing school and working his dream job as a pediatric cardiology nurse at St. Cross Children’s Hospital. Wanting to start the year fresh from personal heartache and his track record of falling for the wrong man, Ollie’s New Year’s resolution is to rid himself of emotional baggage and live a life of carefree liaisons.



But before the resolution can even begin, Ollie is called to care for eight-year-old Daisy Monroe, who’s struggling after heart surgery. Her father, Jacob Monroe, never leaves her side, apart from the times her mother comes to visit.



The tempestuous and somewhat estranged relationship of her parents is cause for concern enough, but the father’s brooding nature has Ollie investing far more time than usual in his Room One patient. Striking up a friendship of sneaking takeaways into the ward, card playing until dawn and the occasional breaking up of domestic fights, Ollie finds himself drawn to Jacob and becomes a friendly ear for the man who’s harboring more guilt and past demons than even Ollie, which is saying something.



The growing attraction makes it hard for Ollie to keep his distance, though he has to—not only do the ethics of his profession demand it, but Ollie is still somewhat involved with another man. One who has a huge stake in Ollie’s life, both personal and professional.



Ollie is risking more than just his job by getting involved with a patient’s father—much more even than the success of his New Year’s resolution, something that was supposed to ensure that, this time, he won’t feel a thing.


Excerpt

Chapter One


New Year’s Resolutions

“You want my opinion?”

“Yes.”

“My honest opinion?”

“Yes,” Ollie repeated. “Please.”

“Brutal honest opinion?”

“Yes.”

“Even if you don’t like it?”

“Even if I never want to talk to you again.” Ollie took a sharp slurp through the straw of his smoothie and winced, his glasses tipping to the end of his nose. “Until tonight, anyway.”

“Then leave well alone.”

Ollie sighed. He sucked up another mouthful of his daily fruit and veg intake, flicked back his blond hair that had lost its vigor after a twelve-hour night shift and glanced away from Taya’s wide brown eyes. The eyes that signified she meant every damn word. Bitch.

“Told you.”

Taya freed her dark, waist-length hair from its curled bun and stroked it over one shoulder. She wrapped the band around her slender dark-skinned wrist then sipped her dainty cup of pink hot chocolate. The blue edges of her lips, caused by the freezing weather, were subsiding back to their usual reddish tinge with each guzzle of the pink cream and rainbow of chocolate candies scattered over her ridiculous sickly concoction. She hadn’t even offered a spoonful to him. Twelve hours straight on night shift clearly meant she needed the sugar all to herself.

“He’s not worth your time, your worry or your respect.” She clanged the cup down onto the glass surface of the table, pulled her winter trench coat over the scrubs she hadn’t bothered to change out of and reached for her packet of menthol slims.

“Neither are they.” Ollie pointed to the cigarettes.

Taya glared across the table. She unhooked the top of the packet, took one of the white sticks between her teeth and lit it with her pink lighter. Blowing the smoke into the freezing cold air, she waved her hand.

“We all have our vices, Oliver.”

Ollie stuck his middle finger up. He slapped it back down and shoved it into his jacket pocket. It was freezing, and Taya had to bloody sit outside the corner coffee shop in order to smoke her way out of the trying night shift. She was right. Everyone needed their vices, especially with what he and Taya did for a living. He sighed.

“I think he needs patience.”

“He’s got plenty of those.” Taya pointed her two fingers clutching the death stick at Ollie.

“Har fricking har. Patience with a c.”

“He’s a c all right.” Taya took another drag. At Ollie’s glare, she sighed and rested her elbow on the tabletop. “What? He is.”

“I think you may be the only female in the entire hospital who doesn’t like him.” Ollie slurped the dregs of his raspberry-ripple smoothie and shivered. He should have gone for a hot drink, but it was hard enough to sleep during the day as it was. Caffeine would only make it infinitely more difficult.

“That’s because I know him,” Taya replied.

“Urgh. Not you, too?”

“Ew.” Taya grimaced around her cigarette. “No, thank you.”

Ollie leaned back in the chair. He waved a hand to waft away the smoke drifting into his face. To give her some credit, Taya was trying to blow it out of the side of her mouth to avoid him, but the icy-cold January breeze from the earlier sleet downpour blew it straight back. Ollie zipped up his puffer jacket, folded his arms and jiggled on the cold metal chair.

“You nearly done?” He nodded to the half-full cup of violently pink chocolate.

Taya blew another puff of smoke into the air, stubbed out the remains of her cigarette and downed the rest of her drink, leaving a foam mustache on her top lip. She licked it away. “Yeah. Home to bed, miss the snowfall, back at eight. You?”

They scraped back their chairs and Ollie tucked a five-pound note under the ashtray for the servers. Anyone willing to come outside and serve drinks in this weather should most definitely get tips, even if his measly nurse’s wages would no doubt be far less than those of the coffee baristas working this part of London.

“I should go see my dad,” he replied.

Taya linked her arm in with his, curling her slender fingers around his quilted sleeve. Checking both ways along the crossroads lined by independent boutiques, high-class restaurants, unconventional cafés and health-food shops, she steered him across, narrowly missing a black cab speeding over the mini-roundabout. The glass-enclosed bus stop’s bench overflowed with waiting passengers, so he stood, waiting, his freezing toes within his inappropriate-for-the-weather slip-on loafers numbing with each passing second, and checked the time on the electric board for when the next bus was due.

“How’s he doing?” Taya asked.

“Good days and bad days.” Ollie sighed. “Keeps calling me Tilly.”

Taya tried to hold in the chuckle but failed miserably. Ollie didn’t mind so much. A good sense of humor was always best in these situations, not to mention their line of work. He pulled Taya in closer. It was fricking freezing and snowflakes fell from the overcast sky. How would he get back to work later that night? London came to a standstill if even one flake hit any mode of public transport. Him living in the other end of the city—the cheap end—would make it all the more difficult to travel across town. On occasions when there wasn’t a downfall, he would have cycled in. But that was out of the question with the ice on the roads. And the fact that he hadn’t woken up in his own bed last night. Ollie shuddered at the memory.

“Right.” Ollie bounced to keep warm while awaiting the number 252. “It’s January. So that means New Year’s resolutions. What’s yours?”

“Quit smoking.”

“Good luck.” Ollie meant it.

Taya stuck out her tongue.

“Well, we both know mine—”

“Which you broke last night.” Taya was a bitch like that.

“I don’t believe New Year’s resolutions should start until the second week of January.” Ollie rubbed his hands together, digging Taya’s arm into his side, and wondered why he hadn’t thought to bring gloves. Ah, yes, he hadn’t had any where he’d been before his shift started. He wasn’t allowed to leave any trace of his existence there.

“Riiight,” Taya said. “So that means from today, you’ll be steering clear of arsehole men?”

“Sadly, no. Unfortunately, I will no doubt encounter many of them in my time without realizing until it’s too late.”

“Amen.” Taya saluted.

Ollie wasn’t sure what the salute was about. But he wasn’t particularly religious, so maybe that was how it was done in church these days? Or temples, considering Taya’s family were Hindu.

“So, what is your resolution, then?”

“No baggage,” Ollie replied.

“Baggage?”

“Yep,” Ollie confirmed.

The gleaming new red Routemaster bus edged along the narrow High Street, bumping over the speed mounds meant to slow the traffic down, which Ollie thought ridiculous as the morning rush-hour pileup tended to last all day in central London. The streets were filled with scuttling people carrying takeout coffee cups, cyclists braving the ice, and the occasional honking of a taxi horn. This time of the morning, most people were trying to get to work and not home from it like Ollie and Taya. He was never quite sure who was keener to reach their destinations.

“I don’t mind a complete arsehole—”

“Obviously.” Taya cut Ollie off with a raise of her smoothed-out eyebrows. That new rainbow hot chocolate had clearly contained one too many e-numbers and sent her loopy. That and the long night shift. Not that she hadn’t been a little bit loopy to begin with.

“Ha ha.” Ollie pushed her forehead. “Like, I can handle a dickhead—”

“We all know.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ollie muttered. “No more white hot chocolate with pink dye for you, okay?”

“Sorry.” Taya pressed her lips together. She rose up on her tiptoes to check on the bus’s progress but needn’t have worried, as it had traveled all of a millimeter since the start of their conversation. At this rate, Ollie might get home in time to have a shower and come straight back.

“What I mean is—”

“You don’t want a man who can’t commit because of circumstance,” Taya finished for him.

Ollie was capable of finishing his own sentences, but Taya was getting warm from flapping her lips, so he allowed it. “Exactly. I’m married to my job. I love my job. Therefore, I should have the occasional fling and become the arsehole myself.” He pointed a finger at Taya. “Don’t fricking say it.”

Taya shrugged and mimed zipping her lips up.

“What do we nurses say daily?”

“‘No, you can’t have McDonald’s’?”

“Not that one.”

“‘You’re going to feel a little prick’?”

Ollie sniggered. “Not that one either.”

“Oh, I know. It’s ‘Of course I’ll change your TV channel for you—it’s not like I have anything better to do with my time.’”

“No! I mean the big one—‘You won’t feel a thing.’”

Taya nodded. “So?”

“So, my resolution is to no longer feel a thing.”

“Good luck.” Taya smiled. Bitch.

The bus pulled up and Ollie jogged on the spot, waiting for the doors to open. They hissed to the side, and even though he and Taya were standing correctly at the hop-on part of the Routemaster with the exit farther along the double decker, a tall man with floppy dark hair jumped straight off and bashed Ollie’s arm as he rushed up the High Street, heading toward the gleaming glass frontage of St. Cross Children’s Hospital.

“Ouch.” Ollie pouted and rubbed his arm.

“Ha!” Taya jumped the step onto the bus.

“What?”

Amusement shimmered across Taya’s face as she bleeped her Oyster card onto the yellow reader. “You just felt something.”

“Oh, bog off.”

* * * *

Ollie jangled the keys in the lock of his third-floor flat and burst in out of the freezing cold. He slammed the door, wriggled free of his coat and slipped out of his comfortable loafers. Rubbing his numbed hands together, he hurried up the corridor and decided to forgo the shower in favor of sinking under his fluffy down duvet instead.

He stripped out of his jumper and jeans, threw his glasses onto the bedside table and collapsed onto the bed. Grabbing the side of the duvet, he wrapped it around his shivering body, rolled onto his front and made a human sausage roll out of himself. He shut his eyes. Of course, that would be when his house phone decided to ring. He wasn’t going to answer it. That time of the morning, it’d only be personal-injury-claim chasers or some double-glazing salesman. The answer phone clicked on and Ollie’s recorded voice wafted down the hallway into his bedroom.

“Hey, you’ve reached Ollie,” it sang out. “I’m way too busy and important to come to the phone right now, and if you’re not with me then you’re missing out! So leave a message, and I’ll decide whether to call you back. Oh, and if it’s PPI, I’ve claimed four times and turns out I’m still not owed anything. Oh, and I haven’t had an accident in the last three years. Oh, and I’d simply luuurrvve to take your survey on local facilities I use in my leisure time, if I had any. Much love—bleeeeep.”

Ollie chuckled. Until the caller’s voice boomed down the phone.

“Oliver?”

It seemed like a question, especially with the pause. Ollie held his breath.

“Oliver?”

Ollie hoped he’d either hang up or get to the point before Ollie passed out from asphyxiation. And considering he was naked, wrapped in a duvet, he could just see the local paper headlines misconstruing his accidental death as some sort of sex game gone wrong.

“Right. You’re not there. Or ignoring me.”

Bright man, this one.

“You left your watch here.”

Ollie scrambled to get his arm out from under the duvet and checked his wrist. Bollocks. He shut his eyes.

“I’ve had to throw it out.”

Ollie shoved a hand over his mouth, adding to his suffocating possibilities, and ignored the sinking feeling in his gut.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

Ollie shook his head and sank farther into the duvet to cover his face.

“Don’t call me back. I’ll see you later.”

The answer phone bleeped, indicating the end of the message and signifying the beginning of Ollie’s New Year’s resolution.

The one where he wouldn’t feel a thing.



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 searches 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.



Having worked in Higher Education for most of her career, a life-altering experience brought pen back to paper after she’d written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Having embarked on this writing malarkey, C F White cannot stop. So strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride...



You can follow C F on Facebook and Twitter and check out her Website.








TODAY'S SPOTLIGHT

RELEASE DAY BLITZ- The Queen's Starfire Throne (Infernal War Saga III) by Hailey Turner

  The Queen's Starfire Throne by Hailey Turner is now live!   Every road must come to an end. THE DEAD. Facing a war where revenants out...