Category: Authors, Artists, and Promos

Dumped by his boyfriend, Frankie Mason goes out with the girls, gets totally trashed, and ends his night by falling in front of a taxi. He’s rescued by a man with beautiful green eyes who takes care of him until he’s put into an ambulance. Frankie curses himself as he realizes he doesn’t have the man’s phone number. Still in pain a few days later, he is dragged out to a club only to be saved by Green Eyes once more. This time, he isn’t letting the man go.
Unfortunately Frankie has to attend a team-building exercise, nicknamed Womb Weekend, organized by his company. Al is working so he doesn’t mind, until he discovers who the team leader is. Al has a lot of explaining to do!
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EXCERPT

ONE OF the joys of working in a large insurance company was that Frankie had a Monday-to-Friday job processing new insurance policies. He waved good-bye at five o’clock Friday evening and didn’t have to think about work or his colleagues until eight thirty Monday morning.
Until the day Frankie opened the e-mail from Human Resources. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Charlotte looked over from her desk. “What?”
“They’re sending me on a team-building exercise.” He didn’t appreciate Charlotte’s chuckle. “Winning Ways? What the fuck is that?”
“You’ve been caught. They get us all in the end. You get to spend the weekend in a swanky hotel, building egg wombs and sucking up to managers. Don’t sweat it. You’ll enjoy it.”
“Don’t bank on it,” he muttered. “Wait, egg what?”
“Egg wombs. You know.” At Frankie’s frown, she said, “You have to drop the egg out of a window without it cracking, using only a plastic bag and a cup.”
“Is that what they really call it?”
She shrugged. “Who knows? That’s what you’ve got to do. And the sucking up to the managers. They give you the ‘We’re all equal here. Call me Jeff’ speech but you know they’re just spying on everything you do.”
It was Frankie’s recurring nightmare—to be stuck in a small room with his colleagues and not be able to get away. He got that five days a week but at the weekend as well? “Karma’s a bitch.”
“What have you done?”
“Do you want the list?”
“You’ve been that bad?”
“Probably worse,” he admitted.
She smirked at him. “Frankie’s been a bad, bad boy, and now he is going to get his bottom spanked?”
“I wouldn’t mind if it was that sort of weekend.” Frankie grinned as Charlotte’s cheeks crimsoned. “Gotcha!”
“You’re wicked,” she said. “My mother warned me about boys like you.”
“My mother warned me about boys like me too. They sounded much more fun than the good, church-going boys she wanted me to meet.”
She gave him an odd look. “She knew you were gay back then?”
He rolled his eyes. “Girl, look at me. Could anyone not realize I’m gay?”
“You have a point.”
Frankie’s mum said it was obvious he was gay from the moment he came out of the womb. According to her description, Frankie flounced out to the song on the radio. Frankie thought that being born to Kylie must have been prophetic. It could have been worse—he might have been born to Meat Loaf.
“When are you going on the exercise?”
Frankie scanned the e-mail. “Next month. They’ve got a dropout and they want me to fill in.”
“Can you go?”
Frankie shrugged. “It’s not like my calendar is full or anything.” It would give him something to do. Since Chaz had thrown him out, his social life consisted of clubbing with Jonno or staring at the walls in his tiny flat, eating ready meals he could ill afford and wishing he had Sky TV instead of Freeview. “It might be fun.”
She gave him a dubious look. “Your life really is boring at the moment, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea.”
“Why don’t you come out with me and the girls? We’re going to try that new club in town.”
“Uh, gay, remember?”
“Uh, gay club, remember?”
He frowned. “There’s a new gay club in town? In this dump of a town?”
“God, Frankie, you really are out of it. It opened a couple of weeks ago. It’s near Primark, over the slappers’ shop.”
“I didn’t know. Anyway, why’re you going to a gay club?”
“Ignorance is no excuse, and I’m going to a gay club because most of my mates are dykes and the rest of us are married. It suits us fine not to be hit on by sleazebags. Anyway, the booze is cheaper and the music’s better.”
“How did you end up with lesbians for friends?”
Charlotte grinned at him. “Some of us aren’t narrow-minded little pricks like some people I could mention.”
“You mean….”
“Uh-huh.”
She did a dramatic head roll to their manager who sat not ten feet away, oblivious to their conversation. Ed Winters was a 1950s Tory poster boy. He disliked women, black people, anyone from the Indian subcontinent, curry, the French, the Irish, dogs, and particularly hom-o-sex-uals—he always enunciated the word as if a bad smell was under his nose.
Frankie grinned at her. Taking the piss out of Ed was one of the few joys in his life. “I’m on for the club. You say where and when.”
Maybe he needed a change from the scene with Jonno. Those clubs were hook-up sites, and much as he needed action, he needed fun. God, he really needed some fun.
“Done. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the straight girls don’t treat you like their pet poodle for the evening.”
He shrugged. “They can be my bitches.”
“They’ll love it. Do you want to bring the leashes?”
“I worry about you sometimes.”
Charlotte tossed her hair. “You love it.”
“Hell yeah!”
“Mr. Mason, Ms. Tiller, is something wrong?” Winters peered over his frameless glasses to stare at them.
They shook their heads and smirked at each other when he scowled and turned away.
Frankie looked at the files on his desk, and the e-mail telling him he had to play nice for a weekend. Charlotte was one bright sparkle in a sea of beige and gray. He pecked disconsolately at the keyboard. “Okay, I’ve confirmed my attendance at the egg womb thing. Now you take me out.”
Charlotte looked up from her phone. “Friday? The girls can’t wait to meet you.”
Frankie nodded. “I’m all yours.”
“Ah baby, if only that were true.” Charlotte blew him a kiss and turned her attention back to her own work.
Hmmm, a new club, potential new meat. Frankie needed something new to wear. He might be short of cash, but he could work that budget. Frankie rocked at the vintage look.

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 gotten 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.
AUTHOR LINKS
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/SueBrownsStories
Twitter: https://twitter.com/suebrownstories
Google+: https://plus.google.com/+SueBrownstories/
Blog: http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.co.uk/
Website: http://www.suebrownstories.com/
Email ID: [email protected]

And don’t miss:

TITLE: Anthony & Leo
SERIES: Frankie’s – Book Three
AUTHOR: Sue Brown
PUBLISHER: Dreamspinner Press
LENGTH: 30000 words approx.
COVER ARTIST: Paul Richmond
RELEASE DATE: March 25, 2015
BLURB: Watching Marchant train his new sub leaves Tony unhappy at not having found a Dom of his own. Running Marchant’s BDSM club, Tony sees who the Doms prefer and it isn’t him—too big, too old, and too hairy. When his friend Jordan suggests he look outside the club, Tony’s mind turns to Leo, a man he met in a traffic jam. Tony manages to arrange a date and happily learns Leo is funny, very toppy, and not averse to Tony’s lifestyle. As a bonus, Leo sells sex toys.
When tragedy strikes the club, Tony fears he can’t help the mourning club members, but Leo offers his unwavering support. After such a tough start, Tony believes Leo is the Dom he’s been looking for… until he catches him kissing another man.
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