The Romance Reviews

The Romance Reviews

Wednesday, 2 September 2015

Stupid Girl


Okay, I've made Bren really angry. And I mean really angry. Like he's not talking to me at all, he's so cross. If anyone ever tells me again "You should have had so and so do this..." I'm going to show them this blog post. I always go where a character leads, because otherwise, I get people giving me the silent treatment.

See, the whole premise of Wynne's Surprise is that there is a big of a love triangle between the heroine Wynne, she of floral adoration, Bren, the Scot with Swagger, and Wynne's boyfriend, Robert, who happens to forge that it's Valentine's Day. Dick move, bro. Anyway, Bren persuades Wynne to abandon Robert for a sexy jaunt in Morocco. Off they pop for the romantic Marrakesh, for pool side orange juices, sunshine, souks, tagines and the breathtaking Atlas Mountains. Bren breaks out the big guns to seduce the silk hair scarf off Wynne, and Wynne and I being of one mind, finds Bren irresistible.

Also, Wynne hasn't ever been the girl who's had the choice of more than one man, or a choice at all (particularly), so I thought, hell yeah, throw in a threesome! This can work! The minute, and I do mean the minute, I tried to write it in, Bren went super Glaswegian on me and said no, in so many ways, I didn't even understand what he was saying, but I got the jist. No, he's not sharing Wynne. No, he's not letting Robert's wart spotted dick anywhere near him or her. No, it wouldn't help their relationship. No, it's not a necessary test. No. No. Lots of f words. But mostly no. And no.

So here I am, out in the cold, in the darkness of Bren's following silence. All because I suggested something. Suggested. Not demanded. Suggested. Wynne's like, "I told you so." Thirty thousand words and now silence. Apparently, I have to make this up to Bren somehow, because Wynne had nothing to do with the idea, and it really is all my fault, since I knew he'd go mad. I DIDN'T KNOW!

God, the naughty corner really is bull.

Tuesday, 25 August 2015

The Scotsman




I've fallen head over heels. And that should worry me. Because I've tattooed Nick's surname on my body, it would be shameful to tattoo anyone else's name next to or in the vicinity of the Da Canaveze. But Bren MacClellan is vying for a patch of skin. It's my own fault.

I mean I looked at the picture of Jai Courtney and thought, yeah that's Bren, definitely! Now, this man plagues me. He believes in the power of good tailoring and how it emphasizes the very best of a woman's figure. A man who knows clothing better than I do? Check. Confident to the right degree. Did I mention he's Scottish? I don't know what to do, he's constantly in my head. Whispering naughty nothings in my ear.

It is horribly easy to be Wynne to Bren MacClellan's persuasions, trace that mouth of his, admire his boy booty (baby got back), listen to him curse modern fashion practices that undermine the skill of a tailor in that divine accent of his. He's fucking ambidextrous! Arrrrghhhhhh!!!

Bren wants to ruin me for everyone else, and all of them, from Nick to Tais, Luca to Beppe, Cain to Auden - they are all nervous about the pecking order, because of the Swagger of the Scot. (Ooh, good title...) That's by the by. He needs to give me some breathing space. I've got other dudes to deal with. And yet, I can see him framing my face, fixing me with those whisky eyes, and saying, "Keep your knickers on Billy. We've got ways to go before I'm finished with you."

Bren, I am really, really trying to....

Monday, 24 August 2015

Under Your Spell



Fair warning; this is bonkers. No two ways about it. It's a paranormal fairy tale, so you're going to need to leave logic to one side for a bit. Until you reach the end. Maybe until well after it's finished. I do love these two though. Strength through adversity. And love as a well deserved reward. Most of all, Kent is NOT boring!!

Addicted to Witch on All Romance eBooks

Addicted to Witch on Amazon

Eye of blurb

Auden Garceau is a musical beast in a golden cage. As the son of an aged rock star, to anyone else his life has always looked perfect. Decorated with awards and accolades, the shiny exterior doesn’t compare to the grim reality. He is without family, money, or even control over his life. Permitted a reprieve from his curfew, he’s booked to play at an employees’ only retreat just with the expectation of being paid at the end.


He never for a moment believed that he’d meet a woman like Dr. Helena Sarpong, who gate crashes her sister’s work event. One kiss with the beautiful doctor is enough to make him want not just more kisses, but everything she can possibly give him. As a man used to being told he has an addictive personality, he is more than willing to start a new habit - Helena. 

Essence of excerpt 

He lifted the jumper from her torso and gave pause to admire her, briefly wishing he lived in a time of the Renaissance artists who would have fallen to their knees in gratitude for a muse such as her. They would have been allowed to look, feast their eyes, but never, ever allowed to touch. Only him. His hand slid inside her jeans and he hardened instantly at his discovery. Scalp tingling at the tug she gave on his hair when his fingers slid inside her, he curved them with insistence. His mouth touched her neck, the swell of her breasts and back to her lips. She tasted like ecstasy, he thought, his mouth trailing to her earlobe, biting down as she began to tighten around his soaked fingers.
“Auden,” she gave a gasping cry.
Satisfaction pulsed through his sex at the need in her voice. He wanted her to give herself completely to him, like she had only a few hours ago.
“Auden, stop.” She pushed at his shoulders, her eyes round with surprise, looking just beyond his shoulder as her orgasm took her. With Helena still shaking beneath him, his fingers caught in the grip of her body, he turned his head. His heart froze. Romely stood there, her mouth parted in horror.
“What are you doing?” Romely whispered.
Helena struggled from underneath him and righted her clothing. “What’s going on?”
Auden opened his mouth to speak, and found his throat closed up. Goddamn you, Romely!
She turned to Helena. “Do you know he’s in a relationship? With me? We have been for years.”
Helena looked at Auden, her eyes narrowed. “Is that true?”
No! He wanted to scream. Not a sound emerged from him.
Romely spoke again. “We’re trying to work things out. At least I thought we were. Do you like stealing other women’s men?”
“Wait a minute.” Helena got to her feet. “I didn’t know. I’m not psychic. I didn’t see or hear anything from Auden that you even exist.”
“But I do,” Romely said. “He can’t get away from that simple fact. I do exist. He and I are meant to be together.”
“I’d dump him if I were you,” Helena said harshly. “He obviously didn’t think about you once.” She turned back to Auden, her palm connecting painfully with his cheek, the sound echoing in the hallway. “You don’t seem like a coward. But I know better than anyone how appearances can be deceptive.” She started up the stairs. “I’ll just get my things and leave.”
Romely inclined her head. “I think that’s best. I can give you a lift to the station, if you like.”
Helena’s mouth parted in surprise before she said, “I’ll be all right. Thanks.”
As Helena hit the top step, Romely spoke. “Well, that was really inconsiderate of you.”
“Fuck you, Romely.” Auden blinked the water from his eyes, caused by Helena’s slap. She had a right to be angry; he wished he could correct her. He wanted to change her mind so badly. This was such bullshit.
Romely snorted. “If you had, it’d be a different story now, wouldn’t it?”
Furiously, he got to his feet, fully intending to strangle the life from her.
“Ah ah!” she held up a hand—preventing Auden from moving any closer. “You still don’t understand, do you? Even after all this time. You are mine. Just as I’m yours.”
“I don’t want you!” he shouted.
“I don’t believe you. We can do this dance for eternity, or you can start thinking smart. No more girls like that.” Romely gave a sneer. “She seems scared of her own shadow. Why would you waste your time?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” He sat back down on the step in defeat. “You’re a sith.” Her mouth tightened in disapproval. “We can carry this on as much as you like. I’ll still hate you.”
Her eyes danced with joy. “You know where that comes from, don’t you? It’s only the other side of love.”
He sent her a look he prayed conveyed how fucking stupid he found her. “It comes from the fact you have stolen everything good in my life because I don’t see you as anything more than a spot I could bleach out. You’re strong, but you can’t change our rules. You can’t make me love you.”
“I’m leaving you alone to get there by yourself.” She sighed. “You will. Just, focus.”
“Lift the curse.”
“No, Auden. It’s for your own good.”
“What do you know about what’s good for me?” he asked, perplexed. “That’s the problem, Romely, you don’t know me. You just have this fanciful idea about me that isn’t true.”
“It is! You just won’t admit what you are. I know you deep down. I saw it all those years ago. I saved you from a life of waste.”
“And keeping me a prisoner in my own home isn’t waste of life?”
Romely’s temper flared. “If you weren’t fucking strange women, you’d be meditating on how to make yourself a better man, the man that deserves me!”
“Oh Jesus Christ, no!” he bellowed.
Romely watched him, wide-eyed. He hadn’t displayed that much emotion to her in years. She gave a small shrug. “Then we’re back to the beginning.”
Helena hurtled down the stairs. “I’ll post the clothes back to you,” she said, barely looking at him.
No, don’t leave, please!
“Helena,” he started, before Romely locked his jaw with a single look. Helena murmured an apology to Romely.
“How will you get back to the house?” he ventured.
Still not looking at him, she indicated the door. “I’ve called a cab. It’s waiting outside.” Her gaze lifted, connecting with his own. “Oh… Go to hell.”
There was his salvation, walking away from him. Romely closed the door behind her and turned back to him. “How shall we work through this?” she asked with an expectant smile. “I mean I’m upset, but I forgive you.”
The lights inside the house dimmed, the clouds darkened the sky. Every single piece of furniture in the vicinity rose from the ground and launched toward Romely. With a scream, she held up her hands as the furniture exploded into dust. Covered in powdered wood and grit, she heaved at him, “You did this to yourself!”
“Get out.” Not waiting for further argument, he trudged upstairs to his bedroom and closed the door. His hand tightened on the handle and he slammed the door into the frame again and again and again until the wood splintered and the handle came away from the door altogether. He threw the handle to the carpet and lay down.
Closing his eyes he envisioned Helena, looking like a fairy princess, hunting for rosemary. No. He wouldn’t allow this. There was no way he’d give her up. He’d had the briefest taste of freedom on Helena’s lips, and he wanted it all.

Now was not the right time to defy Romely’s curfew and get up to London. But he absolutely would. Find Helena and try to get around the impossibility of his situation. He had to.

Wednesday, 19 August 2015

Rock The Casbah



Hot Muse Hank and I are grafting. Well I'm doing all the graft, Hank is doing all the backchatting. To give me a little nudge in the right direction, I'm giving a little sneak peek of this story. It's Wynne, who you've all been introduced to. Last story of Season of Love Vol. One. Valentine's Day, an absent boyfriend and a friend who wants more and he knows just the place to go and get it...

Wyyne's Surprise © Billy London

She woke up with a jolt, tucked between the velvet softness of her sofa and the dense muscles of Bren’s chest. He stirred above her head.
“Are you okay?”
“I had the weirdest dream.”
“About?” he asked on a yawn.
“I had three tits and you were fondling all of them.”
Bren burst out laughing. “Why on earth would you dream about that?”
“I don’t even know.” She lifted her head and squinted at the clock. Midnight. It honestly felt like days had passed. 
“Some nap,” Bren yawned again, untangling his arms from her body to stand up. He looked adorably rumpled. “Do you want some tea?”
“Yeah, and maybe a snack or something.”
“Yes madam,” he sarked, strolling into the kitchen and leaving Wynne to sit up. The sensation of oddness hadn’t abated with the nap, and the strange dream only compounded matters. Who needs three breasts? The overwhelming emotion that came from the dream was how much she’d enjoyed Bren’s manipulations.
She noticed her phone on the table by the lamp. Masochism forced her to her feet and to pick up the mobile. While Bren made tea in the background, Wynne stared at the screen. Okay, maybe she’d crossed a few lines, perhaps a page or a notebook of lines, or rather they both had, but at least they hadn’t crossed it all the way. Six missed calls from Robert, seared her with guilt. Discomfort forced her to read the text messages he’d sent:

I’m sorry about today. Can you call me?
Wynnie it’s Valentine’s Day. Why won’t you answer?
Have you gone out?
You’re being really disrespectful.

“Tea,” Bren said and Wynne jumped in fright. She whipped around and saw him holding two mugs, an eyebrow curled. “I did tell you I was making it.”
“Yes, yes you did. Sorry.” She repeated the apology before taking the mug into her hands. Bren glanced down at her phone.
“Robbie?”
She hesitated. Bren took the tea and nodded her in the direction of her bedroom. “Go and call him.”
Wynne blinked, leaning away from him. “What?”
“Call him and tell him you’re going on a break. You’ll be back in a week, and you can talk then. If you want to.”
Word for word exactly what she wanted to say to Robert. Clearly, Bren was a better friend to her than to Robert. “Okay. I’ll be a few minutes.”
She scampered to her bedroom and gently closed the door behind her, resting against the wood for some semblance of reality to lock her to the ground. That line she’d crossed with Bren a few hours ago seemed more and more blurred. Technically, not calling your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day until after she agreed to a holiday with her male friend she had intense sexual feelings for, could be considered as a break up. Right?
With a deep breath, she dialled Robert’s number. When he answered she had to hold the phone away from her ear to understand what the devil he was shouting about.
“...inconsiderate bullshit I’ve ever come across! Where the fuck are you?”
Wynne’s mouth tightened, her chest heaving with indignation. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that. How dare you?”
He was silent for a moment, but launched back in. “You haven’t answered my calls for five hours. Where are you?”
“At home. To be honest, I didn’t want to speak to you and you’ve proved me right.”
“Look, I was going to say that everything’s clear now for us to take the holiday now...”
“I don’t want to go with you,” she said bluntly.
“What?”
“You heard me. I don’t want to go with you. The inconsideration has come from you, it always comes from you and you have the temerity to call me and say I’ve been inconsiderate? I am always apologising to you. I am always saying sorry. For what? I haven’t done anything, except try to do something good for us, as a couple. And you Dragon’s Den-d me. So, I’m going on that holiday. But not with you.”
“Who are you going with?”
“Think of it as none of your business any more. You’ve got what you want Robert. You’re single again.”
She ended the call and threw the phone onto her bed, where it collided with the side of her suitcase. Well, that made it official. Single and ready to mingle. Under Bren...
Stop and be quiet, she told herself firmly. The case had been packed for the better part of a week, and now, she wanted to change everything inside it. She chucked out her old faithful, thinking that Robert wouldn’t  mind, and decided to buy some new bikinis at the airport. Instead of the tried and tested linens that were smart and cool, she packed in floaty silk shirts and maxi dresses that she’d worn to weddings. The fancy cardigans that were studded, edged with pearls or with sequins, ones that were too nice for anything else, went inside the case, along with four different pairs of sandals and three varying heels of different heights, finally she shoved in two flip flops. That would be sufficient, unless something else at the airport took her fancy.
A knock sounded on her door and she reached back to open it, only to body slam her suitcase, to try and close it.
“Wynnie, what are you doing?” Bren asked.
“Packing, chum.” She turned her head to grin at him. “I may have overdone it.”
He scooped an arm around her waist and lifted her from the strained case. “Stand up. I’ll close it and you zip. All right?”
“Teamwork,” she said giving him two thumbs up of approval. “Got it.”
With his two large hands, Bren pushed down on the case, his arms framing Wynne. He traced a kiss in her hair and said, “Go. Quick now.”
Reaching forward, Wynne found Bren’s groin pressed into her bottom and her face flamed with embarrassment and lust.
“You’re not zipping.”
“You’re sort of grinding me.”
He sighed. “I’ve already done that tonight. It wasn’t like this.” Accurate. “Zip, woman. Zip!”
She did as bid, the metal teeth catching her lone, acceptable bikini. Reversing, she shoved the material into safety and continued until the case was closed. Bren turned her around, one arm around her waist and kissed her all too briefly.
“Everything all right? You’ve made quite a mess.”
Mess of my life or my room? She instead murmured in agreement. “What time’s the flight?”
“Seven am.”
“Can we leave early? I need to do some shopping.”
He looked over her head to her case. “And where will you fit it?”
Wynne grinned at him. “Isn’t that what your case is for?”
“No, but I’ll let you this once.” He lifted the case from her bed. “Do you want another nap, or do you want to stay up?”
“I could really do with some more sleep. I’m all sorts of tired.”
Bren placed the suitcase at the end of her bed, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You go to sleep. No flatmates tonight?”
“They’re all out with their significant others.” He smelled so lovely. Familiar and comforting. 
“Then you’ll have all the rest you need. I’ll get you up in a few hours, especially if you want to shop.”

“I do,” she admitted, looking over his arm at the discarded pile of old bikinis. “I really do.”

Tuesday, 11 August 2015

My Girl Is A Dime


Me and duplication! That's what happens when I listen to the same music writing different stories. It's like I'm cheating. It means I have to sort out new soundtracks which don't feature elsewhere. One hopes. I figure I can jiggle things around. And anyone who tells me that Bieber track wasn't out in November 2013, I know. It's one of the few I can stand - only because it has a 90s R&B feel to it that appeals to the teenager in me. 90s R&B caused teenage Billy soooo much trouble...

The soundtrack for Sweet Child of Mine goes a little like this....


  1. Kings of Leon No Money
  2. David Bowie I'd Rather Be High (Venetian Mix)
  3. Bruno Mars Gorilla
  4. Nelly Furtado Turn Off The Light
  5. Arcade Fire Ready To Start
  6. Rudimental feat. Emeli Sandé Free
  7. James Blake Voyeur 
  8. Lorde Royals
  9. The xx Islands
  10. John Legend Save The Night
  11. One Direction Best Song Ever
  12. Alicia Keys Un-thinkable (I'm Ready)
  13. Little Mix Wings
  14. Connie Britton No One Will Ever Love You
  15. Armand Van Helden You Don't Know Me
  16. Janelle Monáe Dance Apocalyptic 
  17. Bombay Bicycle Club Always Like This
  18. Edwin Star War
  19. Janet Jackson feat. Q-Tip and Joni Mitchell Got 'Til It's Gone
  20. Justin Bieber All That Matters
  21. Ellie Goulding JOY 

Tuesday, 4 August 2015

The Witches Promise


I've stopped tinkering around with Addicted to Witch. Really, honestly, truly. All that remains is the cover, which the fabulous Bree Archer is working on, and the soundtrack, which I have also stopped tinkering with. Really, honestly, truly. I should have done the soundtrack first. It would have reassured me of every word I wrote as being batshit crazy. 

  1. The Arcade Fire - Ocean of Noise
  2. Lupo Fiasco - Superstar ft Matthew Santos
  3. Generationals - Put A Light On 
  4. B.o.B - Ghost in the Machine
  5. Take That - The Greatest Day
  6. Elton John - Your Song
  7. Queen - Don't Stop Me Now
  8. Damien Rice - Volcano
  9. One Republic - Secrets
  10. Emeli Sande - Where I Sleep 
  11. Goldfrapp - Strict Machine
  12. Wendy Rene - After Laughter
  13. B.oB - Airplanes ft Hayley Williams
  14. Editors - The Weight of the World
  15. Timberland - Undertow ft The Fray and Esthero
  16. Coldplay - Paradise
  17. Florence and the Machine - No Light No Light
  18. Madonna - Live To Tell
  19. Alicia Keys - How It Feels To Fly 
  20. Kings of Leon - The Immortals



Thursday, 23 July 2015

Change the Game


POST NUMBER 250!!! How exciting that it ends up on this news?!

The joy of finishing a story can never be understated! The relief can be cut into eight and shared among family. No lie. I started and finished 85% of it in November last year, and couldn't figure out how it would end. On, actually that's a lie. I knew, I just couldn't write it. The story was like "and what?" to me, mocking me each time I opened it on Google Docs. And work imploded, so I was doing eleven hour days (I know some people do a lot more, but for me - this was looooooooooong) and I had no energy to be sucked into the emotional vacuum of this tale. I'm sure I've posted this excerpt before, but it seems to have vanished. (I'm watching you Facebook...)

It hasn't got a final title yet, I've been calling it by the initials of the main characters JMAZ.
Jamie or by his Spanish name Jaime
Mical bitch who's a witch
Aaron Jamie's best friend who happens to be a werewolf (hence the name puppy)
And Zlatan who is possibly my most favourite secondary character ever. I love him like I love Hernando from Sense8.

My iPhone repeatedly changed JMAZ to Hamaz, frightening me deeply. Just so you know what has given me so much joy to shove to the side to write anything else, here's a snippet of the hero's best friend getting in the heroine's face. Trying anyway...

Aaron marched up to Mical and said, “What the fuck are you doing?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Aaron! Looking as beastly as ever.” Her midnight eyes ran over him critically. “Didn’t fancy shaving?”
His face flushed with embarrassment. “Why would you…” He leaned across the bar and hissed, “You coming back here… What the fuck? This wasn’t the plan!”
Mical shrugged. “Change of plan.”
“Says who?”
“Says me, little puppy. I asked for your help, because you care about Jamie.” She wrinkled her nose, looking him up and down. “A little more than is healthy for one of your description. So, do me a favour. Shut up, back off, go away. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll leave you a bowl of Pedigree Chum for you.”
Aaron backed off, too aware of what she knew and what she could do to him. What she’d done to him before. His own anger pushed him forward once more. “You don’t get to come here and fuck everything up. Not without an explanation. And not if you love Jamie the way you swear you do.”
Her eyes flashed and at last, the true person behind the shiny, glossy model-like beauty began to emerge, in the lengthening of her chin, the engorgement of her eyes and the tightness in her lips. “Never question my feelings again. I’ve warned you before. Or do you fancy walking on all fours tonight?”
Aaron shrank from her. She wouldn’t dare! “It’s not… It’s not that time.”
“Only because I haven’t made it that time.” She leaned back and her face returned to normal. “Now, you can have a pint, but you need to behave yourself.”
“I’ll be over there. Waiting. Whatever you say, you owe me.” He stared at her until she lowered her gaze, his heart beating frantically in fear. Of course she knew he was right. Why would she deny that, when she knew she’d done a complete U-turn on what they’d agreed?

Mical handed over a pint of bitter. “I suppose I do.”